Part I - Prologue -The Mare in the Warp

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Planet Canterlot, third planet of the Equis System, capital of the Pony Imperium
Imperial Palace surroundings, near the Adeptus Equustodes barracks

The streets of Canterlot were busy as always. Even this close to the imperial palace, there were still hundreds of thousands of citizens trying to have an audience with the Empress, trying – and more often than not, failing – to get passed the Administratum army of clerks and bureaucrats.

Could be worse, Spike thought, reminiscing about the outskirt of the imperial city. A shiver went through his spine at the thought. A waiting line... becoming an entire town? That’s madness.

He quickly dismissed these concerns and focused on the task at hand. Lady Twilight had summoned him... and he had to pay a visit to a friend. The dragon kept going, trying to organise his thoughts as he was closing on his destination.

The Equustodes quarters were somewhat out of place in the great imperial city. Attached to the palace like a power armour to its warmare, the small functional barracks looked almost bare amidst the exuberant and richly decorated temples and offices. Granted, the golden adamantium walls and statues of heroes of forgotten wars, kneeling before their glorious mistress which delimited the outer court in front of the entrance, were nothing short of ostentatious. Its residents didn’t care much about it however, for those four heavily defended walls marked a ground as sacred as any temple in the galaxy. For these walls housed the chosen children of the Empress, created for and devoted to her service and protection. They were Equustodes, the Empress’ champions and guardmares, they earned it by birthright and the blood spilt on the battlefield. This title and what it encompassed carried more weight than gold and was as holy as any relic, and they were proud of it.

The building had one visible entrance which was guarded by two heavily armed Equustodes at all times, unmoving and threatening, living statues in stature and posture. None could hope to escape their watchful gaze, none could get passed their unwavering attention. If one was lucky enough to be admitted inside, they would be greeted by martial rooms, linked by heavily defended corridors and guarded by eerily similar pairs of golden clad warmares, standing next to every door.

Dozens of the elite warriors lived here. This was their home whenever the Princess didn’t need their services, should it be in the Palace itself or around the expanding Imperium. Every second of their time, save for the few moments they occasionally needed to sleep or eat, were dedicated to making them better, worthier, through extensive martial training, lengthy tactical and strategic discussions or meditation and mental strengthening. Every moment of their life was dedicated to honing their already impressive, gene-crafted martial skills and willpower.

Excellence is not enough when perfection is expected.

Twilight Sparkle believed firmly in those principles, but her interpretation of them was considered by many to be unconventional.

She understood the value of training, she did her share with compliance and enthusiasm, but it was still not enough. Something in her ached for knowledge and she could never resist the urge to consult the immense library, deep under the building, holding some of the most hidden secrets of the Imperium. The time her kin spent bonding and improving their mutual experience, she spent between bookshelves, learning about the early age of the Imperium, about the few secrets of the Warp that she could safely learn, on the entities that reigned on the fringe of the galaxy, or sometimes outside of it.

And that day, the genetically enhanced mare had found the opportunity to do more than one at once.

The book in her hooves was ancient – antediluvian even. Its covers were bare with the exception of the front, decorated with a silver unicorn sigil. Its content was so old most of the information inside would have surely been deemed heretical had it been written this millennium. Yet the data was too valuable for Twilight to dismiss.

What she had between her hooves was an antique and original historical record from the Early Imperium. It was by no means like one of those old Administratum records that hold nothing of real interest. No, this one was an incredibly rare and fascinating exception; an authentic and original report of various conflicts having affected the Canterlot system itself with a heavy emphasis on the Great Heresy and the Nightmare War.

Twilight had a hard time containing her excitement. Military minds of the highest levels had tried to outsmart each other in battles spreading across entire sectors, armies had been used in the most clever ways to achieve victories over the rebels, planets had been sacrificed to ensure the security of other systems...

Even though the report didn’t detail every detail of the fights, it was still enough to give her an accurate view of the conflict and its ramifications. There was definitely a lot to learn from it.

Something, however, had managed to top it all.

The resolution of the war was shrouded in mystery, as there were a limited number of people able to write a detailed and precise recollection of the facts at the time. Twilight knew the legends, she knew the history and she, of course, knew of the parts that were kept hidden from the regular citizens. She knew of the renegade Primare’ch and the war that ensued the Warmistress’s treason, she knew of her fallen sisters and what the darkness of the Immaterium had turned them into. She knew of the secret war the Imperium was waging against Chaos and the heretics and renegades that served it.

What she didn’t know, however, was the exact way the Nightmare War had ended. It was said that in the last days of the Great Heresy, the Warmistress had a deadly fight with the Empress which ended with her victory upon the traitor. Nothing more. This vague account was good enough for the common pony, to keep them hopeful and productive while reminding them the power of the throne, but having faced the force of Chaos first hoof, she suspected it was just part of the necessary propaganda. The Warmistress had been the favoured warmare of the Empress. She had the reputation of a ruthless and careful general who chose her battles carefully and never engaged unless she was sure to win. Surely the final fight had been more complex than that. Now Twilight had the confirmation that her suspicions were right.

This book, however, despite its concise nature, contained great details on the end of the crisis and many of them were quite intriguing. It was stated that the Empress had used a powerful weapon to get rid of the Heretics assaulting the planet, including the Warmistress: the Elements of Harmony. Yet, there was no mention of such a weapon in any books of her knowledge, which, admittedly, covered a lot of books. The fact that such an asset would go forgotten was troubling.

Needless to say, she had been looking for clues about it in hope of finding some answers. As hours piled up she had started to form some good hypotheses. All she needed now was more sources and data to go on.

Steps on the stone floor interrupted her train of thoughts. She did not need to see to whom they belonged; they were clawsteps, not hoofsteps, and that tended to eliminate most other potential visitors – notwithstanding the fact that her superior hearing and eidetic memory could help her identify individuals based on their sole step patterns; but she did it anyway, for negligence was the root of heresy.

As she expected, a small purple and green dragon, wearing the grey and black meditation robe indicative of his serf status, entered the room and took his place next to her. He had an inquisitive look on his face, as he always had when he caught his Lady starting research on a new topic.

“Right on time, Spike,” started the unicorn, returning to the record. “I need you to fetch some books for me...”

“Huh... sure, Lady Twilight,” Spike answered awkwardly. He tiptoed a moment, clearly torn about something. Twilight didn’t notice, nor pay attention, as she was already focused on the document. After few seconds, he finally dared speak. “Shouldn’t we go to Moondancer’s funeral though?"

“Oh, Spike! Don’t be silly!” she dismissed absent-mindedly. “We don’t have time for this sort of thing. Now could you find me a copy of Predictions and Prophecies? And books related to the legend of the Mare in the Warp too.”

“The Mare in the Warp?” he answered, his body almost moving on its own. “But that’s just an imperial guards’ scare story...”

“I do not think so. Not anymore anyway. I have a feeling there’s more to the legend than we were led to believe...”

Spike opened his mouth to retort, then resigned himself with a sigh. There was no talking to Twilight when she was in that mood. The dragon serf quickly disappeared between the shelves.

I’ll see you later, Moon Dancer, he thought with a hint of guilt. It’s not like you’re going anywhere anyway…

☀☀☀

One would think finding the date, or at least a very close approximation, of a previously unknown astronomical event relying only on a few legends and poorly dated historical events would be an impossibly difficult and possibly lifelong task. And in most cases, one would be right. But one would not have access to an imperial library, nor an extensive memory on everything book-related driven by an extraordinary focus.

It only took three days for Twilight to find the answers she was looking for. They were not reassuring.

“Spike?” she called. “Write a message to the Throne. Use my accreditation codes.”

The dragon nodded and took an antique piece of vellum and a quill out of his uniform.

Beloved Empress,

Please forgive my boldness, but my researches in ancient lores, warp magic and historical battles have led me to believe that we’re on the brink of a catastrophe.
If my calculations are correct, the Warmistress and part of her armies that were previously defeated and exiled in the Warp could, and I have very good reason to think that they indeed should, come back in a matter of weeks, if not days.
I humbly suggest that the highest defence protocols should be put in place as quickly as possible.

I eagerly await your orders.
Your faithful Equustode,
Twilight Sparkle.

After a quick check of her serf’s work, she nodded in approval and let him send the letter through his magic.

“Are you sure this is okay?” the dragon asked.

“Of course,” she affirmed with unwavering confidence. “In all my years of service, I’ve never done anything but my best for the Empress. I’ve been her most loyal citizen, guard and student. She knows I wouldn’t send her such a note without reason. She will consider my words.”

She had no sooner finished her sentence than a big, rolled up sealed parchment blurted out of Spike’s mouth in a green flame. A knowing grin drew itself on the mare’s face. The dragon took the letter, and with his Lady’s approval, unsealed it and began its lecture.

TO: EQUUSTODE TWILIGHT SPARKLE
FROM: THRONE OF CANTERLOT

YOUR MESSAGE WAS RECEIVED AND ACKNOWLEDGED BY THE EMPRESS. AS USUAL, YOUR DILIGENCE AND THOROUGHNESS DOES YOU CREDIT, AND THE EMPRESS GREATLY VALUES THE INFORMATION YOU BROUGHT AND THE EFFORTS NEEDED TO PUT THEM TOGETHER. SHE WILL PONDER UPON IT AND ACT ACCORDINGLY IN TIME.

HOWEVER, THERE ARE SOME CONCERNS ABOUT THE TIME YOU SPEND IN THE LIBRARY AND THE TOMES YOU HAVE CONSULTED. YOU ARE ASKED TO RETHINK THE WAY YOU SPEND YOUR TIME.

AS A REWARD FOR YOUR DEDICATION NEVERTHELESS, YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN TO CHECK THE EFFECTIVENESS OF THE DEFENCE SYSTEM OF PV-01, IN THE PONYVILLE SYSTEM. MAKE SURE THAT THEY ARE EFFICIENT. A LIST OF THE PONIES RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DIFFERENT PARTS OF THE PLANETARY DEFENCE WILL BE GIVEN TO YOU PRIOR TO DEPARTURE, IN EIGHTEEN HOURS. FOR THE DURATION OF YOUR MISSION, YOU WILL COLLABORATE WITH THEM AND ASSUME A POSITION OF LEADERSHIP IF NEED BE.

MAY THE EMPRESS LIGHT ALWAYS BE WITH YOU.
SUCCESS IS COMMEMORATED; FAILURE MERELY REMEMBERED.

There was a minute of uncomfortable silence.

“Well at least she considered your words...” he tried, in a comforting tone.

Twilight only grunted in response.

Part I - Chapter 01 - Ponyville

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Immaterium,
Equustode transport ship Spes Reliquus

The Spes Reliquus slid into the Warp, safely cocooned in its Gellar field, unbothered and mostly unnoticed by the entities that inhabited it.

The ship was a small one, made for speed rather than war, in order to transport a small contingent of the gold-clad warmares through the Imperium as quickly as possible. This made it unusual in many ways. For instance, it only needed a skeleton crew of brainless servitors to travel across the interstellar void, instead of the crowds of thousands usually required.

Even when at full capacity, the Spes Reliquus gave off a feeling of emptiness. And today the feeling was exacerbated for this trip only carried two people. The first one was a dragon serf. The second, fighting in the rudimentary training room of the ship, was a ’slightly dissatisfied’ lavender equustode.

Three enhanced combat serfs were paying for the euphemism.

Twilight ducked. A combat stick passed right where her head had been an instant earlier. Her magically-wielded training staff whirled. The blunt point made a very satisfying sound as it connected with the mindless pony chin. She caught a movement on her side. Another blow came, aimed at her flank. The staff kept spinning, barely slowed. The combat mace got caught in the loop. The weapon flew away, soon followed by its user. Twilight turned to face her last opponent. Now alone to face the warmare, the serf shifted to a more defensive stance. The staff kept going, so fast it looked like a purple blur surrounding its wielder. Both fighters waited for the other to make the first move.

Twilight broke the stalemate. Her staff changed its course and flew toward her opponent’s hooves. The serf awkwardly avoided it, trying to use the opening and kick the mare in the process.

Gotcha.

In a blink, she changed her grip on the staff. In a blink, its trajectory twisted, striking the serf on the flank, hard, pinning him mercilessly to the closest wall.

The fight was over.

The warmare took a few steps back, returning to her side of the makeshift arena, her weapon hovering slowly. The combat had lasted less than a minute, just as the one before, and the one before that and the tens that had preceded them. Twilight had barely broken a sweat.

The exercise was pointless. The servitors were simply not good enough to provide a challenge to the warmare, but what else could she do?

“Again,” she demanded flatly. “Three hits this time, and raise the level to lethal.”

They stood up and took back their weapons.

They did not feel pain nor fatigue – whether or not it was fortunate was debatable – so they would comply, or at least try to do so until their bodies were utterly ruined. So up they stood, ready to serve again.

As one, they readied themselves, training sticks firmly held in their mouths; their empty glares fixed the unmoving mare, looking for openings.

As one, they slowly circled around their prey, using her blind spots to prepare their offensive. An eerie silence settled in the training room.

As one they attacked.

Twilight immediately recognised the pattern. This particular strategy’s goal was to confine her movements, slowly erode her defences and ultimately overwhelm her. She could either break the trap with overwhelming force or try to get out of it before it closed on her. She opted for the latter.

Raw magic flashed as Twilight teleported away from the sticks and flashed again when she reappeared behind one of her foes. The equustode’s staff struck both hind limbs, making him fall before he could kick her, then, using his left hind leg as a pivot, she made the staff turn to break his left foreleg. The serf fell like a puppet whose string had been cut.

One.

The two remaining serfs charged her, trying to submerge her with a vicious flurry of blows. Twilight used the reach of her staff to contain the assault, waiting for an opportunity to strike. She lured the serfs with increasingly subtle feints until one of them took the bait. Rushing into the opening she left in her guard, the stallion broke off to hit her legs, forcing his ally to change his pace. For a second the unity of her attackers was broken. That was enough for the unicorn. She quickly deflected the blow and disappeared in a flash. The feinted servitor readied himself for another attack from behind, kicking hard, in hope of touching or even stopping the elusive opponent...

Twilight Sparkle didn’t even bother to do anything. She just let herself fall on the stallion from the ceiling where she had teleported. His back made a painful sound as she landed on him. Three blows wouldn’t be needed for this one.

Two.

There was a quick movement behind the spacemare, and she barely reacted in time to avoid being hit. The remaining serf was using her last move against her. At such a close distance, her staff was of little help and as she stood on her fallen foe, she couldn’t have a good hooving, making manoeuvres delicate. Her opponent made sure of that. It was Codex tactic. She knew it by heart. Yet here she was, stick and hooves passing dangerously close, leaving her no time to concentrate on an elaborate spell such as teleportation.

The unicorn was seriously rethinking some of her recent decisions...

☀☀☀

Spike slowly progressed along the empty corridors of the ship, framed by several mindless drones, pulling behind him his Lady’s armour and weapon. His pace was careful and deliberate, not so much because of the weight he carried, several times his own, but because he was well aware of the equustode’s gear’s value, once again, several times his own.

There was no hurry either. Even considering how vague and abstract the concept of time was in the Warp, it would likely be hours before they actually reached the planet and landed on the astroport. Not to mention this wasn’t even a drill; there would be no fighting involved and his mistress’ gear would not be needed. But what duty asked of her meant that she had to be prepared at all times. And so she was, and, as always, Spike would be there to help.

This was not part of his duty as a monitor – his official role was to take care of his Mistress’s correspondence with the throne and help her to efficiently access and use the mind-boggling amount of data her frequent researches required – yet he still helped with tasks such as these because he liked to think he was more than just a message carrier, more than a servitor. He was Lady Twilight Sparkle’s number one assistant, the closest thing to a friend he’d dare to be and, since he did not have a place at her side on the battlefield, he would assist her outside of it as he could. This included carrying priceless pieces of armament or listening to her discussing “the strategic value of her assignment”, which, as far as Spike was concerned, was a fancy way of ranting.

“It was pretty okay this time,” the dragon serf said conversationally to one of the drones.

The lobotomised pony said nothing, as he was not programmed to. Spike wasn’t even sure they could understand him beside basic commands, but he didn’t mind.

“I thought she’d protest more about being sent far away from the Palace, you know? One time she’d been assigned to a mission with Flawless Mist and she complained about it for weeks... but they sent her to a small planet at the worst time and she barely speaks about it. But I guess–”

His sentence was cut short by a purple flash of light, immediately followed by a deflagration.

“Never mind,” the dragon commented with a sigh.

Without another word, he made his way toward the training ground.”

☀☀☀

“Three...” Twilight uttered between catching breaths.

The three serfs were now laying in painful looking positions, as far away from the warmare as the place permitted. Two of them would have to go under surgery to be able to serve again. The last one would probably be reallocated to more menial tasks.

A pang of guilt struck the unicorn as the frustration partially left her body. Baseless violence was one thing, that she was not proud of, but carelessness was something she could not allow herself to fall into. Three serfs, even heavily enhanced ones, were not supposed to be a challenge. Not for her.

The words of the letter came back to taunt her.

You are asked to rethink the way you spend your time, the letter had said.

But I’m right! she thought bitterly as she hit the ground with her hoof.

“Gee! Somepony’s angry...” Spike said, carefully unloading his mistress golden artificer armour on a table in a corner of the room.

Twilight didn’t answer immediately. She had been so lost in her thoughts, she had not heard him enter. “I am not angry,” she lied – though whether it was to Spike or herself was questionable.

The dragon cocked an eyebrow. “If you say so,” he answered wryly.

“Okay. I may be a little dissatisfied with our current situation.”

“Dissatisfied?” repeated the dragon with a glance to one of the combat serf.

“Okay, I’m frustrated!” she finally conceded. “This... this task, this whole situation is getting on my nerves!” Her hoof hit the metallic ground again, louder this time. “We should be preparing for the return of the Warmistress, not supervising some isolated spacemares in a forgotten sector!”

There. It was said. There was nothing else to add.

Spike had known and served Twilight for decades now. He had learned to read the subtle clues in her mannerisms to read her mood and serve her to the best of his ability. To see her express her anger and frustration that way, that she’d express it at all, was really the sign that the answer of the Empress had shaken her hard. The worst, however, was not to see his mistress’s doubt, it was the knowledge that there was nothing he could do about it.

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

“Look on the bright side, Lady Twilight! You’ll get full access to the library and the planetary archives. You will basically live there. You already have done most of your research, the rest can easily be done there.”

The warmare stayed silent a moment, lost in her thoughts. A mischievous grin was slowly forming on her face. “You know what, Spike? You’re right.”

This was a reaction he had not foreseen. “I am?”

“Absolutely! Once I have checked the defences, I will have plenty of time to verify my hypotheses and prepare for the resurgence. If I manage my time right and delegate, I can probably even dedicate my whole time to it!”

“Hum... are you sure this is the most efficient way to check the planet’s security? And what about the spacemares you were supposed to supervise?”

“If I am in charge, then I can just ask them to do their things while I do something else,” she calmly stated. “They’re grown mares and I have better things to do than chaperon a bunch of grunts.”

Spike opened his mouth, looking for words... but a sudden change in the lighting, indicating that they were about to leave the Immaterium, interrupted him. The travel had been even shorter than he’d foreseen. The dragon shook his head and let the subject die. There was no talking to her when she was in this mood and there were more important things to do now than argue about this.

“If you say so, my Lady...” he sighed. “Since we’re arriving soon, maybe I could help you don your armour?”

“I would like that very much Spike,” she answered warmly.

☀☀☀

As they left the Warp, a fully-armoured Twilight Sparkle had, at last, the opportunity to see the system for herself. It was small, one of the smallest in the sector in fact. Only two planets, PV-00 and PV-01, orbited the young, red star.

PV-00 was a bluish gas giant with nothing to offer. Its only noticeable feature was a deep green satellite, a former planetoid of the system trapped in the gravitational pull of the giant, with an orbit almost perpendicular to the rotation of its planet. Said satellite was filled with jungles and a wild and untamed fauna that had resisted colonisation so far. Those familiar with the system poetically called it “the Everfree Forest", which was better than its official name, PV-00aCS01FPoV03.

PV-01, or simply Ponyville, since no other planet was worth stealing the title, was barely more interesting at first glance. It was a small Canterlotian planet. One among billions and billions in the galaxy. It was weakly populated; barely rich enough in gems and precious minerals to justify the existence of mining excavations, and its military force was flirting with the minimum required to ensure the sector’s security.

In truth, PV-01 had one resource worth mentioning that made it valuable to the Imperium. Despite its size and the apparently weak sun, it had a tremendous capacity to produce food. The ponies of the region produced roughly a third of the food for this part of the sector, and with its close proximity to Canterlot and the indirect road toward the heart of the Imperium, it had become sort of a strategic asset.

War vessels often patrolled the area, and the Empress herself sometimes sent some of her warmares to check on its defences. However, despite all this, the system was almost forgotten. The Imperium was looking toward the other end of the galaxy, and with centuries passing, the planet and its benefits had been progressively overlooked.

Twilight knew all this. Of course she did; there were entire shelves dedicated to this system in the imperial library. But she couldn’t help feeling as though the planet was not worth her time, and seeing it up close under the weak light of a pathetic sun only made it worse.

Why am I here?

As the vessel slid its way through the thick atmosphere, the genetically-engineered mare couldn’t help but think about it. Truth to be told, she had a hard time not thinking about it. Why was she here? Did she upset the Empress by contacting her directly? This had never been a problem before, not in 264 years of service... Did she accidentally touch a sensitive subject? Were the book and its stories of heretical nature? Was she tested without her knowledge? Did her curiosity finally get the best of her? Maybe she should have sent the book directly to the Imperial Archivist to make sure she could access its content... What if it was written by Heretics to tempt the weak minded? Or worse, written by the Inquisition to test the faith of the closest guards of the Empress? Was it a test? And if so, had she failed it? She had to... this explained her situation. Or maybe she had to show how she could handle this kind of situation? Was it already too late for her, or had the struggle just begun?

If only She could give me guidance...

Part I - Interlude - Among the dead

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Planet Canterlot
Imperial Palace, Throne of Canterlot

Dead in the center of the Palace of Canterlot, guarded by walls of gold and adamantium, was the most precious and powerful relic of ponykind: the golden throne. Made of gold, lost technologies and spells long forbidden and forgotten, it was the testament of millenia of pony’s intellect and craftsponyship, the culmination of their genius. The throne sat at the top of a thousand-step stair, dominating a room as vast as a town.

On it sat the only being fit for it. The Empress.

For the last ten thousand years, she had been sitting on this throne, unflinching. Her body glowed like a thousand suns from the raw psychic energy pouring out of her, illuminating the whole room, revealing the countless ponies gathered here.

They watched her in awe, with love and devotion as they channeled their power into her. Thousands upon thousands, millions upon millions of ponies, from all ages and creeds, united in one purpose, feeding the magic of their Goddess.

They sacrificed their very life so she could illuminate the Warp, so the voidships of the Imperium could travel safely across the start.

Every few minutes, one of them would die. The lucky ones would be drained so thoroughly they would become a part of the Empress’s essence. Most of them simply collapsed due to thirst, hunger and exhaustion. But ultimately they would have fulfilled their goal and another would be sent in their place. There was a time when this would have made her react. But a few days of this had entirely desensitized her. Millennia had made the scene into less than white noise and background images.

More ponies died every second on countless battlefields to ensure the safety of her empire anyway.

Today was slightly different. The alicorn-goddess was pensive, even more removed from the reality around her, if such a thing was possible. Thoughts of the past had come back to haunt her. Memories of another time when her hooves still walked among the stars, inside mighty vessels, on foreign worlds, on battlegrounds that would be only told of as legends of a forgotten time. Memories of her and her closest soldiers... friends... sisters in battle.

Especially one. One that could once claim those titles more rightly than anypony. Her lips moved, but no sounds came out. They formed two words. “Warmistress... why?”

☀☀☀

From her spot, Celestia could see her worlds burn. She had spread war upon countless planets for the sake of her empire, for the sake of ponykind, and now said empire was torn apart because she could not contain her most efficient weapon.

The deep blue, star-maned alicorn stared her down, her cold eyes seemingly piercing into her soul. Nothing remained of the love she once had for “her Empress". Now only resent, contempt and hatred filled her soul, and they were all pointed toward the white alicorn.

“Why?” whispered Celestia.

“Don’t you dare play ignorant with me Celestia,” snarled the Warmistress. “You brought this on yourself.”

“Why?” she repeated. The hurt was still in her voice as she spoke.

“Stop this charade, ‘Empress’.” The word was filled with all the disdain and hatred the Warmistress could gather. Celestia flinched slightly. It was imperceptible, the barest muscle spasm. But the Warmistress noticed. A smile grew on her face, revealing a fang. “It’s time to die.”

Two pink eyes slowly rose, leaving entire systems consummated by the flames of war, to stare into the turquoise reptilian eyes of the Warmistress.

“Why?” she demanded. There was no more weakness in the voice.

There was a second of silence. For an instant, the Warmistress was once again in front of her Empress. The respect she once had... the admiration, the sheer devotion came back, like a balm on her crushed pride. But she was too far gone. The feeling only made the pain greater when it returned. It only fuelled her rage to even higher levels.

“YOU WANT TO MAKE ME BELIEVE YOU DON’T KNOW?!” she shrieked, powerful waves of energy cracking around her every couple of words. “YOU DARE? YOU BETRAYED US! YOU BETRAYED ME! ALL MY LIFE I SERVED YOU! I SERVED THE IMPERIUM NIGHTS AND DAYS! I GAVE MY LIFE FOR PONYKIND AND WHAT DO I GET? DISGRACE! SHAME! UNGRATEFULNESS! I WAS YOUR MOST LOYAL MARE! AND YOU BETRAYED ME! AND NOW YOU WILL FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS!”

“I never betrayed you... I would never...”

“ENOUGH!” she interrupted. Both mares looked at each other in the eyes. The warmistress’s magic activated and her war hammer, World Crusher, left its maglock to hover at her side. “I know now. You don’t deserve to rule. I will do what you never could. I will conquer the galaxy in the name of the Old Gods and burn any mention of your name from history!” The Warmistress paused, letting the words sink in. “I. Will. Erase. You.” She promised, emphasising each word by kicking her hoof on the ground.

“Don’t...” Celestia pleaded. Her magic was surrounding the handle of her sword but she still refused to unsheathe it. “I do not want to kill you. Stop this folly. There is still a place for you in the Imperium. Stop this madness now!”

“You can’t stop me. You’re weak and a foal. Now die!”

☀☀☀

The screams of a unicorn, consummated by their magic and the call of the Warp, made the Empress snap out of her daydream. Two Equustodes came to get rid of the fuming corpse while another brought their replacement. For a second, Celestia wondered if her lack of focus caused this.

The thought died quicker than it had arisen. She didn’t even care.

Millennia around the dead would do that.

Part I - Chapter 02 - The Spacemares

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PV-01
Ponyville, Administratum quarter

Twilight sighed heavily as she left the governor’s office. The administrative formalities had taken a precious amount of her time.

The planetary governor, a wheat-furred, grey-manned mare fatefully named Mayor Mare, insisted that a ceremony and a speech, broadcast to the whole planet, were in order. Twilight had stayed as civil as she could, but the tenacious mare had not taken "no" as an answer until Twilight used the full extent of the Empress-given authority.

“I hope it doesn’t go like that all along,” she sighed as she left the building, “I really want to end this...”

“Come on, my Lady!” cheered Spike. “You know how civilians are when they see warponies like you. I’m sure you’ll feel better around other soldiers.”

“I really hope you’re right...”

With a small nudge of the head, Twilight indicated her escort, a very imposing pink soldier of the local army, to lead them to their destination.

They walked in silence, occasionally broken by the awed, hushed rumours of ponies whispering in the distance when they caught a glimpse of the golden armour; Spike’s occasional questions about the town; and the monosyllabic answers of their guide.

Twilight didn’t really care, in fact, she preferred it that way; the lack of interaction let her think of ways to micromanage her stay. Spike, however, was getting increasingly frustrated by the lack of communication. “Just tell your name!” he demanded for the umpteenth time as, for the umpteenth time, the soldier pointed the roll number on his chest.

The sudden burst interrupted Twilight’s musing. She rolled her eyes as she intervened to help the dragon. “Please soldier, just humour him,” she asked calmly.

“Pain Keeper, Lady Sparkle,” the guard answered with a calm and even voice.

“See, Spike? It wasn’t that hard,” she teased.

“Easy to say for the genetically-engineered warpony with a power armour...”

“I’d thought simple sentences with basic intonation would be pretty easy for a servitor of the Empress. Did I overestimate you, Monitor?”

The remark was as mocking as it was chastising.

Spike took it as a cue to keep quiet.

“I am sorry, my Lady,” he apologised humbly.

Twilight feigned indifference. There was a tacit contract between the equustode and her servitor. She’d given him more freedom than most serfs and even allowed herself to treat him as a peer. But in exchange, they would have to play their part and he would have to remember his place whenever they were in public.

She hated that she had to remind him of his place, but it was better than the alternative... One faux-pas could become the reason for Spike’s lobotomization. Scolding him publicly was a small price to pay to keep him whole.

Twilight glanced at Pain Keeper, checking his reaction, only to catch him staring at her and Spike. He quickly turned his gaze away once he realised he’d been seen.

The reaction was not out of place, but it still piqued Twilight’s curiosity. However, before she could confront him about it, he suddenly stopped.

“We have arrived,” he said with a salute.

The planetary fortress emerged from the building-ridden horizon, like a rock appearing from a dissipating fog. Twilight stepped out of the city streets to enter a vast, empty plaza, surrounding the fortress isolating it like an island. Twilight roughly estimated that at least five hundred metres separated her from the wall. Half a kilometre with no cover and well in the range of heavy weaponry fire, or even an accurate marksman.

This was a heavily fortified island.

And it was just as imposing up close. While not as towering as the equustode’s quarters, the Planetary Defense Force garrison was very efficiently designed.

Impressive... she admitted to herself. Pretty thick walls, sharp angles to disperse the waves of besiegers, wide shooting angles for the defenders, auspices...

The list went on in Twilight’s mind. Dozens of auto-turrets every five metres guards on duty in the parapets, anti-vehicle weapons, wide metal panels to allow sorties... And that was only the outer layers. She was guessing heavy cannons, energy shields and lots more surprises inside. If the rest of the place was as heavily defended at the outside, her work would be done in a breath.

A small smile illuminated her face for the first time she’d arrive. She turned around to thank the guard. “Thank you,” she began as she realised that her guide had disappeared. “Pain Keeper?” She looked around and saw nopony. “Pain Keeper? Have you seen him, Spike?”

“No, my Lady.”

“Strange...”

It was bizarre enough that the soldier would leave. The fact that he would do so without the genetically-engineered warmare to notice added a layer of weirdness that raised a red flag in Twilight’s mind. But could she allow herself to delay her mission for a single disappearing pony? She pondered on it for a few seconds before coming to a compromise.

“Spike? Could you tell me who’s responsible for the intelligence service on this planet?”

“Sure, my Lady.”

The dragon produced a dataslate from one of his many pockets and typed on its polished surface several times, sending commands and instructions, going through the countless registries gathered by the Administratum. The device biped agreeably as he did, complying.

’Bip! Bip! Bip!’

“Just a second, my Lady.”

’Bip! Bip! Buzz!’

“What?”

He tried again.

’Bip! Bip! Buzz!’

“That’s strange...”

’Bip! Bip! Buzz! Bip! Bip! Buzz!’

“What is wrong?”

“Well…” He typed on the slate a few more times and was again rewarded by a denying buzz. “There’s an intelligence service in this planet, but there’s only one pony in it and the file is missing...”

The warmare repressed a sigh of frustration. Great. One more thing to deal with, she ranted mentally. “I’ll think about it once I have checked everypony,” she decided with a sigh after having considered her options. “Keep an eye open in case anything strange like this happens again.”

“At your orders, Lady Twilight. Is it really worth it, though?”

“A suspicious mind is a healthy mind, Spike.” She recited.

“Or is it?” he retorted with a sly grin. “Who said that? And why?”

The unicorn sent him a stern look... then rolled her eyes and allowed herself a smile. “Let’s go, Monitor, we are waited for.”

☀☀☀

Twilight strode the fortifications with an appreciative look.

Her first impression was confirmed. Whoever was in charge seemed to be keen on doing the most with whatever they had at hoof. The barracks and its defences were superbly kept. The soldiers looked ready, the defence was solid and the equipment, while old, seemed efficiently used. It wasn’t the best defensive outpost in the galaxy, but for a backwater world like this one, it was an impressive piece of work nonetheless.

“What’s the name of the mare, Spike?”

“Sergeant Applejack,” the dragon answered instantly.

“Let’s find this Applejack.”

They found her in the training ground.

As a Spacemare, she was unmistakable and her shared heritage with the equustode was obvious. Just like Twilight, her body was the result of genetic manipulations and artificial organ transplants rather than the chaos of random, naturally-occurring mutations, and her massive frame was only the beginning of it. She was a masterpiece of genecrafting and lethality inside and out. Twilight knew that underneath that massive body, there were stronger bones, denser muscles and extra organs to make her into a weapon, faster, stronger, more resistant than any pony could ever hope to be.

The similarities stopped there, however.

Horsetartes were the best the Imperium could produce with limited time and materials. They were soldiers, mass produced to answer the necessities of war. Twilight and the other equustodes were pieces of art carefully crafted from the best materials to personally guard the Empress. The process that had led to her creation was more extensive, more refined... better... She was a carefully crafted warrior, unique and perfected to her utmost potential to defend the heart of the Imperium. Both her and Applejack’s kind had their use, but there were no denying the truth.

Twilight pushed her examination further.

She was slightly taller than Twilight, bulkier too. Her long blond mane was tied in a ponytail, held by a red ribbon engraved with sacred passages, oaths and rituals Twilight could not decipher. The same kind of decorations was present on her Imperial Hooves Mark III power armour and on her yellow shoulder plate, and Twilight suspected that even more were hidden behind the myriad of honorary titles and decorations that adorned her attire. Whoever she was, she had seen her fair share of battles and she’d been somepony to count on.

She was busy inspecting the disassembled pieces of a heavy bolter that was likely her own weapon. In a burst of curiosity, Twilight started to pay close attention to the earth warpony work, critically, silently testing her skills. The inspection lasted a few minutes before Applejack expertly reassembled the weapon.

Flawless, Twilight mentally approved.

Her work finally done, the Spacemare finally acknowledged her visitors. “Salutation.” Twilight put her hoof on her chest. "I’m Equustode Twilight Sparkle. Sergeant Applejack I presume?”

“That I am,” she replied with the strong accent of the fringe worlds, imitating the gesture. “It’s an honour to meet you. The Dulce Pomum Battalion welcomes you. How can I be of service, Twilight Sparkle?”

“The Throne has chosen me to personally check on this system defences. I was told you’ve been assigned to the planetary defence forces?”

“I sure am.”

“Good. I will need a complete report on the state of the ground forces.”

“Sure,” she said as she maglocked the heavy weapon to its strap on her collar. “Follow me, Sister.”

Twilight froze. Applejack took a few steps before she noticed that she was the only one moving. She turned toward Twilight. “Is there a problem?”

Twilight bafflement grew. They were not sister. They were worlds apart in therm of ranks, skills and importance. They were not sisters, not even by the loosest definition of the word. “Just call me by my title, please,” Twilight simply said.

“As you wish, Equustode.” she said, turning back.

☀☀☀

Twilight left the officer mess with a weary sigh. This was definitely not what she had in mind when she asked for a report. The orange mare had insisted that she personally checked every officer on her command and verify their skill individually. What should have taken an hour and almost no efforts had become a full day marathon. She would never have thought possible that such a mundane task would be that time-consuming.

“Who’s next Spike?”

“Techmare Rarity of the Iron Hooves,” he answered right away. “She’s single-hoofedly taking care the automated defences and the maintenance of the armoury.” Spike paused a moment as he checked his dataslate for more information. “She’s usually in a working station under the barracks,” he added with a smile.

“Thank you, Spike,” she said gratefully.

Spike kept smiling and simply nodded.

☀☀☀

Finding Rarity’s craft room had been easy.

It was very conveniently located and extremely well organised, making it easily navigable but hardly defensible, much to the equustode’s bother. The two visitors wandered through dark, empty rooms full of broken and half-repaired equipment without saying a word. Twilight couldn’t help but notice that most of them had not been considered standard for centuries or even millennia. Proper maintenance rites for such equipment had been lost – or kept a secret by the Mechanequus, which was basically the same thing – making their presence here surprising, to say the least. Twilight didn’t dwell on the thought, for unravelling the Mechanequus political struggles and its ties to such a remote planet would likely take two lifetimes, and she hardly had a few weeks before the Resurgence – the fated return of the Warmistress.

The Techmare was, quite logically, located at the centre of the place, in a small craft room. Her attention was fully focused on her work. From the back of her strange, slim, red power armour, four servo-arms equipped with various tools and claws were frantically acting upon some cubic device Twilight could not identify. Flames and plasma flitted around the artefact, making shadows dance in the room and creating unreal colours and strange patterns on the white fur of the unicorn. Sometimes, a spark would fly above her head, revealing curled locks of a purple mane trapped by a protective helmet.

Knowing better than to interrupt an Astrotechnequus during her work, Twilight decided to wait and watch silently.

She was not the only one.

The dragon was transfixed by the spectacle. Twilight smiled at the sight. To see the talkative serf silenced that way, by a Techmare’s work nonetheless, was unexpected. It’s nice to see him show so much deference to somepony’s work, she thought.

But even she could see that there was more than respect on his look. There was something more. Something she was unable to fathom but had seen countless times in other ponies: infatuation. There was something touching about it. At times like this, she remembered that Spike was still a young dragon, with limited experience of life... and the consequences of said youth in a galaxy at war.

The smile faded, replaced by a cold and determined expression. She nudged him to catch his attention.

“True happiness stems only from Duty,” she mouthed with a reproving scowl.

The dragon made a chastened face and snapped to attention, now watching his feet and avoiding any look in the general direction of Rarity. Twilight hoped she had dealt with the problem. Or at least made it tolerable for the times to come.

They didn’t have to wait for long, all things considered, but the silence had grown uncomfortable and both Twilight and Spike were happy to have an opportunity to break it. Twilight jumped on the first chance to make her presence known, waiting for Rarity make a pause from her work.

“Salutation, Soror Astrotechnequus.” She saluted, her hoof on her chest. “I am...”

Four servos greeted her before she could finish her sentence. Twilight body tensed as the mechanised limbs came close to her, but she relaxed when she felt the tools delicately touch her armour. The Techmare turned slowly, her cybernetic enhancements still on the equustode.

“Salutation, Lady Equustode,” she answered with a surprisingly refined tone. “Would you please follow me?”

“May I enquire where to?” Twilight asked uncomfortably, still surrounded by servos.

“Well, darling,” – Twilight cocked an eyebrow at the second unusual nickname she’d earned in less than a day – “this room lack the necessary tools to ensure full maintenance of your apparatus,” Rarity replied.

“My appara-... I’m sorry but I think you are mistaken. I am not here to have my gear checked. I’ve been sent to inspect you.”

“Nonsense,” she countered. “I do not need any checkup. Your armour, however, suffers several minor malfunctions that could very well become critical if exposed to the stress of battle, I simply cannot let you go like that,” she stated.

Still surrounded by servos, and unable to find reasonable arguments against long due repairs, as minor as they could be, Twilight resigned herself to her fate.

Spike watched the scene unfold without a word, small hints of a smile on his face.

Soon, Twilight found herself in an ample meditation robe while Rarity worked in several parts of her plate at the same time. The Techmare filled the silence in extensive details of the base defence, mixed with questions about the Canterlot system and unexpected attempts of small talk.

Not willing to displease his Lady once more, Spike had chosen to wait outside. He wasn’t sure about what happened just before, but he had made a mistake somehow. Maybe he was not worthy of watching Rarity works. He must have looked upon some deep Mechanequus secret while ogling... Or maybe his newly found, and rather sudden, admiration for the Techmare had made him neglect his duty somehow?

So lost he was in his musing that he didn’t see the imposing figure slowly approaching until it was right on him. The irony wasn’t lost to him.

“Tell me your allegiance dragonling,” said a voice deeper than any mortal throat could produce.

☀☀☀

It took hours for Twilight to take back her armour. Not that the repairs were complex. The truth was that Rarity kept trying to “improve” it. Once again, the Empress-given authority had to be used to save several days of pointlessness. Yet another sigh escaped Twilight’s muzzle as she left the workshop.

“Spike?” she asked. “Next mare please.”

Silence answered her demand.

Only then did Twilight realise that Spike was missing.

She instinctively looked around for clues, her heightened senses scanning the room like an auspex. No fighting traces, she noticed. Her serf was very capable of defending himself. The chance of him being captured without leaving a trace was infinitesimal. A potential threat would have to pass Rarity’s sensors and not get caught by two warmares to even get close to him. He likely followed somepony, she conjectured. Who was the true enigma here.

She checked her surroundings, her retinal display scanning the room in detail, her other senses instantly looking for any trail of the dragon. She quickly located him. He was not far. Speaking to somepony. She instantly relaxed. The tone seemed friendly and thus not cause for concern.

As she walked toward them, she tried to determine the mysterious pony’s identity or nature in advance, wondering again who could provide her serf with a good enough reason to fail his duty, albeit temporarily. The task was surprisingly arduous. Strange distortions on their voice made it totally unintelligible once reverberated by the empty rooms and corridors, like a muted, corrupted vox broadcasting in an empty cathedral.

Twilight was close now.

He was calmly talking to a figure still hidden behind a corner. Judging by his respectful tone and the way he had to lift his head to looks at his interlocutor, Twilight deduced it was probably one of the Spacemares. Obviously, not Rarity and probably not Applejack either, judging by the difference of tone and register. This voice was way deeper than theirs and yet, incredibly soft. Its pace was slower, conveying a feeling of raw power carefully kept in check, like the rumble of a powerful stream kept behind a rockrete dam. The unicorn caught up with the dragon, eager to get another step closer to the completion of her mission, literally in this case.

To say she was surprised to see who Spike was talking to was an understatement.

She was a Dreadnought.

Twilight knew of them. Of course, she did. Their existence was an integral part of the Legios’ history. The greatest heroes of the warmares, those whose martial prowess, mental fortitude, courage and wisdom had transcended even the standards of their legions… Those incredible warmares were sometimes given a chance to fight again despite deadly wounds. Their agonising bodies, or whatever remained of it, would be maintained alive inside an amniotic jar and then encased inside imposing behemoths of metal.

Ready to serve, once again.

When the equustodes where a more active force in the conquest of the galaxy, a few of them – Primara, Senitora, Sagittaria... – had been reborn as such and kept their legends going centuries after their first “death”. Those times, however, were long gone and the elite force of the Empress became more and more of an ultimate defence asset, a last resort, an emergency measure if things came to worst. Nowadays, all of the golden warmares’ Dreadnoughts were sleeping under the palace waiting to be called to arms.

This was Twilight’s only experience of these beings – the silent, immobile silhouettes of her predecessors. The sight had filled her with awe but it was something else entirely to see one alive, moving, especially in times of peace, especially here.

It was as impressive as she was in right to expect.

The sarcophagus was bulkier than the ones she was accustomed to, wider but shorter, making it almost a metre taller than her and twice as large. Its angular form somewhat reminiscent of a pony but made way bulkier by its reinforced adamantium plates. The hind legs were very powerfully built and as big as the average pony. Twilight knew that it would permit the mare inside – or rather her remnants – to make optimal use of its agile and powerful forelegs for an extended duration, making the machine a deadly close combat foe. In addition to that, two powerful jet engines coupled with two folded adamantium wings – the warmare had probably been a pegasus once – and several decorations and honour marks were spread all around its yellow paint while a few long pink banners hung from above her head all the way down to her “flank”.

Whoever was inside was a veteran of countless wars turned into a weapon... or so Twilight reminded herself. The machine exuded an almost supernatural calm and discretion as if it might vanish if she approached it carelessly.

She made a few extra steps, getting in the view of the dragon and his towering companion.

Noticing his mistress, Spike bowed respectfully in her direction, then turned back toward the Dreadnought.

He bowed reverently and extended an open palm toward Twilight. “Lady Fluttershy, may I introduce you to my mistress Lady Twilight?”

“...” the vox buzzed shortly as the sarcophagus turned toward the unicorn and bowed slightly.

Spike dutifully kept on with the introductions.

“Lady Twilight, this is Lady Fluttershy, formerly sanguinary priestess and active member of the fourth company of the Blood Alicorns. She’s assisting the medicae of the planet with her great knowledge in term of medicine, genetics and many other things.”

Twilight hid her surprise behind a solemn nod. To think such a venerable warrior would be relegated to such a task was unusual, to say the least.

“It’s an honour,” she humbly said.

Once again, the mare inside the machine only replied with an empty vox buzz, and the same happened to all her tentatives to initiate any meaningful dialogue.

Is her equipment malfunctioning or is she refusing to talk to me? Twilight wondered, increasingly frustrated and embarrassed by the situation.

Spike was finally the one to rescue his Lady from the awkward one-sided discussion.

“If I may, my Lady,” he hinted. “I’d like to remind you that we have to prepare our report to the Throne.”

Taking her cue, Twilight nodded.

“You’re right, Spike!” she affirmed. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“Well we will leave you, Lady Fluttershy,” he said. “My lady has a lot to do, and we won’t keep you from your maintenance routine. Thank you again for your help. May the Empress be with you.”

“And with you, Monitor Spike,” she said in her deep yet soft vox-produced voice.

And, after a nod toward Twilight, she was gone.

“That was weird...” coughed Twilight.

“Yeah, a guard passed and she did the exact same thing,” the serf informed with a shrug. “I think she only talked to me because I was a dragon.” a victorious grin appeared on his face. “But on the bright side, she gave me some of the information you need!”

“Good job, Spike,” she acknowledged with a smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“How many mares left?”

He consulted his dataslate. “Just one,” he said after a second of hesitation.

Finding some remnant of courage in that perspective, Twilight braced herself. “Let’s go.”

☀☀☀

Twilight grumbled as she left the barracks. The day had passed faster – or rather everything had gone slower – than expected. The sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizon, the red-orange sky bleeding slowly from its fiery wound. The brightest stars started to shine, competing with the lights of Cloudsdale, the imposing high atmosphere mobile base floating above the city, and its patrolling light vessels.

In less than an hour, the street lumens would outshine them all, directing tired overworked ponies toward recreational quarters or their habitation and barely rested ponies toward their working places. This a doubt gather a most unnecessary crowd around the equustode, slowing her even more.

Hopefully the last mare will be easier to handle, Twilight thought, sceptical of the thought as soon as it popped in her head.

“Can you tell me more about the last warmare, Spike?” she asked tiredly.

“Her name’s Rainbow Dash. Sergeant Rainbow Dash of the White Scars. She’s stationed in Cloudsdale, the aerial mobile defence platform,” – something caught his attention above his mistress’s head and his voice got lower and lower as he continued until he completely stopped – “There should be shuttles to...”

The unicorn looked above her to see what distracted her monitor.

There was something above them.

Something big.

Something falling right on them.

For a second, she thought it was an animal or a spaceship but she soon realised what it was and, for a precious second, she shared Spike’s stupor. It was a pony. Falling out of the sky. Right on them. In a fraction of an instant, the enhanced sight of Twilight permitted her to encompass the whole scene in great details.

It was a pegasus. She had a unique rainbow coloured mane cut short and a cyan coat. She wore the White Scar power armour coupled massive jetpack engines on her back which make her appear very distinctly against the crimson sky.

How Twilight could have missed her, she had no clue but her mind was racing in other directions. What is happening? was her first question. Her mind created scenario after scenario after scenario to answer it. Why is this White Scar falling on me? Is she Rainbow Dash? Did she faint? Jetpack malfunction? Was it sabotage? An attack? Another question, more pressing, quickly took over. What do I do now?

She didn’t have the time to stop the fall nor to redirect the pony elsewhere. She also lacked time to raise a shield for Spike and herself...

She was out of options.

Faster than she thought possible, she kicked the dragon away – careful not to harm him in the process – and braced herself for impact.

It never came.

Instead, she felt the temperature rise and fumes reach her nostrils. The noise of raging engines filled the air for a few seconds before shutting down. The silence that rose right after was deafening. Finally, Twilight rose her head again. The blue-furred Spacemare fell on the ground just in front of her at the same time.

Twilight was at a loss for words from both anger and amazement.

“Sorry...” the pegasus said with an apologetic smile on her face. “I thought the area was clear. It’s kind of hard to change my direction once launched. Are you okay?”

“What was that all about?” she asked once she came back to her senses. “Who are you?”

“The name’s Rainbow Dash and that was my daily emergency intervention training routine,” she said proudly.

“You do that daily?” Twilight answered, baffled.

“A mare’s gotta stay sharp,” she declared proudly, bombing her torso. “‘Faith and training will kick heretic ass on the battlefield’ or something like that.”

“I think you mean ‘only faith in the Empress and your training will save you on the battlefield’,” she corrected. “Those are the words of Veteran Sergeant K–”

“Yeah! Exactly that!” the pegasus interrupted. “Who are you by the way?”

Exasperation threatened to overwhelm Twilight. She took a deep breath to regain her composure.

“I am Twilight Sparkle, equustode on a mission for the Empress,” she announced. “I have been sent to check on this planet and its defence, which means I have to refer to the Spacemares in charge, including you.” Twilight sighed. “But I guess it can wait tomorrow.”

“Why wait? I can give you whatever information you need.”

“I need extensive and precise reports,” Twilight explained with a lot of emphasis on “precise”. “And I need them before I do my own dispatch to the throne tonight. So unless you can go fetch and get them back to me in less than half an hour...”

“Exactly! Why wait?”

“You mean you have them on you?” asked Twilight, surprised.

“Hum no... but I can fetch them easily.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they must be somewhere in Cloudsdale,” she said, pointing at the defence base high above their head. “I’ll get them in a breath.”

Reason dictated that she had a ship at the ready to make the trip. But reason, and several chapters of the Codex for good measure stated that one should not jump from unknown height only to activate their jetpack at the last second.

There was no vessel in sight, therefore the mare in front of her had just claimed that she could reach a High Atmospheric Mobile Base in less than thirty minutes by herself and then do the road back fast enough for her to have the reports. Reason dictated that it was impossible. But the reason seemed to have a hard time on this planet.

It was time to settle the score.

“Victory needs no explanation, defeat allows none,” she quoted wryly.

Rainbow Dash tensed. She wasn’t sure of the meaning behind the quote, but she could feel her word and worth were being attacked.

“What do you mean?”

“Prove it,” taunted Twilight.

The pegasus took the bait with the appetite of a shark. “Where will you be in half an hour?” she asked.

“In the town archive, but–”

“Meet you there,” she interrupted.

And with that, she was gone. The thruster came to life once again, propelling the pegasus at an astonishing speed, leaving a quite unorthodox rainbow coloured trail of fume behind her. For a fleeting second, Twilight wondered if this was supported by the Codex, but she wasn’t even sure which entry would address the problem of coloured jetpack trails.

Soon the pegasus was but a blurred figure for the simple eyes of Spike, but Twilight could still see in great details Rainbow Dash using every little trick known to pony to optimise her flight, somehow gaining more and more speed as she got higher. Still, Twilight knew that this wouldn’t be enough to get to the base. Despite her skill, the mare was simply too slow.

As an answer to the thought, the engines shut down, decapitating the twin rainbow snakes. The mare kept rising, but slower and slower, her trajectory curving slightly. Twilight did not sense any panic in Rainbow Dash’s attitude. There was more coming, she knew it… and she couldn’t help but wait expectantly for it. A few seconds passed. The White Scar was suspended into the air, floating in the instant where gravity didn’t exist anymore...

At that exact moment, a ship passed between the spacemare and her spectators… and the pegasus was gone.

It took two seconds for the unicorn to link the dots. Even then she couldn’t believe it. “Did she just...?” she asked out loud.

“What did she do?” Spike questioned with insistence. “I can’t see a thing from this far!”

“I think she just hooked herself to a moving ship...”

Spike watched the ascending vessel for a few seconds. “Amazing...” he stated matter-of-factly.

☀☀☀

Twilight stayed a moment, observing Cloudsdale. She found herself wondering if Rainbow Dash had already arrived. The inanity of the thought broke the spell. Her time was limited and whether or not the pegasus had done her job was irrelevant, moreover, the more she waited, the more likely she was to meet the populace.

It was time to move.

They progressed in silence, walking back to their starting point. The mare was lost in her thoughts and followed Spike’s guidance. She didn’t need to, but it was more convenient for her to do so. After all, the dragon had the itinerary memorised, and he was used to supervising his mistress walk in addition to his own. In fact, he had personally requested more conditioning to be able to do it more efficiently.

The meeting with the spacemares had left its mark in Twilight’s mind. Who are those mares? If I didn’t know any better I’d thought they are equustodes themselves...

And there was a certain kind of familiarity with her own sisters. Maybe it was the fact that they were from different chapters, maybe it was their ridiculous and superlative aptitude to the task they’d been assigned to. This in itself was baffling. If their files were accurate, and they all appeared to be, all of these warmares had honoured their chapter for more than a century before being sent here… and then they had diligently built the world’s defence for another hundred year, doing wonders with the mediocre material they had at hoof. This didn’t make sense…

Why would their chapter deprive themselves of such brilliant elements? Why sending them here? Wh–

“We have arrived, my Lady,” Spike informed her, cutting her reflexions short.

Twilight snapped out of her trance, reconnecting with her environment. They had indeed arrived. The military area had given place to civilian infrastructures separated by wide, curving, paved roads. The archives stood in front of her, at the other end of a vast plaza, probably to accommodate a highly hypothetical crowd of discontent ponies. It was, as always Twilight supposed, empty, save for an imposing figure in its centre. The equustode was not even surprised to see Rainbow Dash waiting for her. She was nonetheless impressed.

“Has it been half an hour already?” Twilight asked, trying to look unfazed.

“Only twenty-three minutes,” grinned the pegasus. “But I thought you were in a hurry so I made sure to be here in advance.”

Rolling her eyes, the equustode made a sign for Spike to take the dataslate the spacemare had brought.

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

“You’re welcome, Twilight Sparkle,” said the pegasus, still grinning. “See you around!”

And, in a less flamboyant way than before, she was gone, leaving two Canterlotians and two rainbow-coloured smoke trails behind her.

I’ve only been here for a day, and I am already tired with this nonsensical world, she thought. “All I want now is to report to the Empress,” Twilight said out loud.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The voice was familiar, which should have been a relief for Twilight if not for two facts. The first was that she could not identify its owner, something that her eidetic memory was supposed to make impossible. The second thing was that it came from behind her, and the fact that somepony had managed to slip past her and get on her blind spot was definitely not a good sign.

Why, Ô Empress, why? the equustode complained mentally.

Her horn flared, ready to catch her staff or cast a spell. She prepared to turn when several things happened.

From the corner of her eyes, Twilight could see two cloaked figures, ponies, one big, one regular-sized, a few metres away. The big one was probably the one who had talked to her earlier. She could try to catch them, but there was another thing. A metallic sound, like a hollow metal ball bouncing on the ground. She knew that sound, it was the sound of danger, a signal to take cover. The sound changed to another one, high pitch and continuous, as the ball rolled the rest of its way to her hoof.

As Twilight finally lower her gaze to see the grenade hit her armoured leg with an underwhelming “ting".

Crap.

Part I - Chapter 03 - The Dusk of Hope

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PV-01 orbit
Planetary defense vessel Dusk of Hope

Like everything about this world, the orbital defence fleet was underwhelming yet efficient. Ponyville stood as a paragon of that very concept. The Dusk Squadron had been put in charge of the system for a few decades now and it had been a rather uneventful task. There was once a wannabe pirate lord who tried to test the defences of the planet, and there was another time when the imperial squadron needed to escort an important Inquisition ship, but that had been the peak of excitement so far, something Rolling Die was more than happy with.

The deep voice of her commanding officer sliced through the silence. “Retry contacting the ships, operator.”

But I guess that couldn’t last, she thought as she focused her attention back on her screen.

She could feel the tension on the bridge, just like everypony else. Captain Typhoon Snivel hated coffee. Everyone knew that. He tried to hide it every time he had to drink it, but his bionic forelegs always tensed when he opened the flask – the same kind of tensed spasm they had when someone mentioned the griffons to him. That’s why he only drank it at two times: when he absolutely needed to stay sharp, and when the situation was about to get ugly.

He had been sipping his flask for hours now.

She really hoped he had a very bad night.

Dominating the bridge, Captain Typhoon Snivel tried to keep an air of serenity despite the lingering, bitter smell of coffee and his instinct yelling at him that something was wrong. The maroon unicorn checked his screens once again as his operator worked on her interface and ran the scans. The data stream in his bionic eye sent him all the information his crew extracted from their cogitators, and the result was invariably the same, whether it came from his optic or his crew.

The Crusader of Tartarus, the Just Retribution and the Last Barrier transmissions were cut off.

His metallic forehoof got on his temple, displacing some locks of his white mane, the coolness of the prosthesis soothing his worried mind. There had not been any problem in the system prior to that. No signs of incoming attack, no ship intrusions, nothing. They had detected the loss of transmissions less than ten minutes ago – well within acceptable margins. There were perfectly reassuring and plausible reasons for those ships not to respond; most of them were very probable even. Local electromagnetic anomalies, basic maintenance issues, solar flares... heck, even coincidences couldn’t be totally ruled out. But Typhoon Snivel knew things were never that simple. The first thing he had learned during his forty-seven year of service was that believing the reassuring options was most likely to kill you and the millions of ponies you were supposed to defend. He had learned this lesson the hard way.

In truth, Typhoon Snivel had already made his mind, he merely needed the thought to crystallise before he committed to it.

After a few seconds of tensed silence, he finally gave his order.

“Alert the rest of the squadron. Unknown threat detected.” Typhoon took a sip of coffee. “Navigator, I want us in interception trajectory with the Crusader. All hooves in quarters, raise the shields and don the weapons. I want this ship as ready as if the Warp itself was coming down on us. Which may very well happen.”

Typhoon Snivel emptied his flask. This time he could not prevent disgust to take control of his face.

Empress, I hate this thing, he thought.

“And bring me more coffee,” he ordered, motioning his empty flask.

So long for enjoying a quiet life... Rolling Die thought, repressing a sigh. This is going to be a long day.

☽☾

“This plan is terrible! We should have attacked them directly!”

Death Scream said nothing.

She was the veteran of countless battles. She had once fought for a week without ever rest or stop against the griffons in the Ultima Segmentum, playing hide and seek with death, hacking and slashing without end with no hope of escape. This had been the most excruciating and draining experience of her life. And now, she was starting to regret it.

She and her battle sisters had been drifting in space for two hours, thirty-three minutes and twenty seconds. And Smallpox had been ranting nonstop for the whole time. There was something in the way the spacemare talked, in the way she complained, that was nerve-grating, that was almost supernaturally unnerving, frustrating, but it was usually contained into occasional one-liners or witty remarks. This constant monologue, this incessant whining noise that none of them could ignore nor mute – for they needed to stay in contact at any moment – was torture only the Gods could have devised.

Had Death Scream known that Smallpox would be so annoying, she would have sabotaged her armour beforehand. Her helpless suffocation would have been a way sweeter melody.

“This is beneath us! We are the scourge of the galaxy, not torpedoes!” the annoying spacemare continued.

Tapping in lengths of willpower she didn’t even know she had, Death Scream once again ignored her irritating sister by concentrating on her objective.

To her defence, this plan was a lot of things and crazy was the least of them. When the Sorcerer told her that she, along with two squads would be sent into space for hours, in hope to catch a frigate and get inside using unknown Chaos magic, and then capture said frigates, her first reaction had been to laugh. Her second had been to catch her breath and try to get up after Moon Terror had hit her in the barrel.

Damn her and her pet Sorcerer!

Yet she had to admit, the whole scheme was ingenious, even considering its borderline suicidal part.

Their target was close now. So close in fact that, without any other mark, it just looked like a big metal wall dividing space in two. Up so close, it was easy to forget that it was in fact ridiculously small compared to other battleships. Death Scream wasn’t duped at all. This was but an escort ship. A small thing made to harass and distract the enemy while the true war vessels, bigger and better armed, were made to wage war, destroy whole fleets and burn worlds.

Pathetic.

It was truly pathetic.

That the Imperium was too weak to even defend its worlds was truly a testament to its decadence and further proof that its fall was a long time due.

She didn’t dwell on it much longer. Long rants were Smallpox’s prerogative, and she needed to focus. Soon the sun would be eclipsed by the planet below and plunge the place into the darkness which would mark the moment for them to “go inside”.

She reflexively pressed on her power armour, where she could feel the strange relic the warp wizard had given them. The contact made her feel both reassured and nauseated. Funny that their lives depended on such a small trinket. The Sorcerer had given them these star-shaped medallions and told them to hold on them. Nothing more. She didn’t even know exactly what it did nor how to use it!

“We should have brought our ships and bring them death!” continued Smallpox.

“BY NURGLE’S ROTTING TAIL WILL YOU SHUT UP?” shouted another angry voice in the vox.

Damnit, sister, Death Scream cursed in her mind.

“Make me, sister,” the insufferable warmare taunted. “Oh wait a minute... YOU CAN’T!”

“I swear on the Gods’ names that if you don’t shut up, I’ll make sure this long insufferable monologue of yours will be the last coherent thing you’ll ever say!”

“Bold talk. Is there another spacemare inside that armour of yours to help you back it up?”

Death Scream annoyance went up a notch. The number of frustrating mares to deal with had just been doubled. She was about to join the verbal fray when something caught her eyes. She could see them. The area was growing more luminous as time passed instead of getting darker.

This could only mean one thing and it was bad news.

“THEY’RE ACTIVATING THE SHIELDS!”

“THE SORCERER LIED TO US! I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE GUTTED HIM!” Smallpox complained one last time.

“If you survive this, I swear to the Gods that I will kill you, Pox,” promised Death Scream. Even if I have to get back from the very depths of the Warp to do so, she added mentally.

The space around the ship got brighter as the energy was directed from the generators to the hull. The spacemares braced themselves, praying to the Ruinous Powers that they would be able to get inside before it was too late. The relic on Death Scream’s grew hotter and hotter, searing her fur and burning her flesh. It glowed, brighter, the unnatural light somehow passing through her armour, adding itself to the blazing lights of the shield. Soon, the spacemare went blind as the filters on her helmet gave up, unable to deal with such aggression. Even her eyelids couldn’t protect her anymore. The temperature rose, quickly becoming unbearable.

In the vox, a familiar voice howled in pain. Death Scream smiled at the sound. Even in death, Smallpox was a loud mouth... but for once, Death Scream liked what she heard.

☀☀☀

Typhoon Snivel was trying to stay as rational as possible. He kept his head on the task before him and tried not to let mere hunches get the best of his logical thinking. Yet, this time, he could not shake the feeling that something awful was about to happen. An unknown and powerful fear was twisting his entrails more than the black brew he was torturing himself with. And it didn’t help that most of the other captains were sceptical about his intuition. Most of them had acknowledged his call and promised to stay on alert, but he knew they would likely not do much until there was confirmation of the attack.

“Do we have an answer from the ships?” he asked once again.

“No,” one of his subalterns responded. “We’re trying to get them through other means, in case of a malfunction, but it has shown no result yet.”

The Captain nodded absent-mindedly. I hope I’m mistaken, he thought ominously.

☽☾

“Status,” Death Scream whispered in her vox.

Only static answered her call. There was a chance the shield had jammed the communicator or that the others were not able to reach her yet. But somehow, she doubted it.

Until further notice, she was alone and probably the only surviving member of her team. Moreover, she was unable to say how long it had taken her to get inside the ship. A few seconds? Minutes? Hours? Playing with the energies of the Gods’ realm always impacted the way time flowed... As far as she was concerned, months could have passed. So time was also a factor to take into account. As things were supposed to go, each of the members of the group was to sabotage a vital part of the ship, rendering it momently unable to function. Then sever the head, and finally go to the Warp-Drive. Now, things had gotten a lot more complicated. She had to carry out the same mission, faster and alone.

She would have to adjust her objectives.

She had to prioritise the main targets: the bridge and the Warp-drive. She was a spacemare facing ants. It was perfectly doable. No matter how many they were, ants were still ants. The real problem was to do it before they could raise the alarm. A quick detour to the communications would be necessary before she could focus on the main dish.

She had orders. She had a plan. She was ready.

“For the Warmistress,” she said as she drew her dagger and left the room.

☀☀☀

Rolling Die was sure she had not imagined it. For a few seconds, there had been a surge in the shields, as if it had been hit by energy weapons. It was gone as soon as it had appeared.

There was a chance it was just a dysfunction of the shield, but she had a feeling it was not so.

Better safe than sorry.

“Captain?” she ventured. “I’ve had weird readings from the shield and from this part of the hull.’ She pointed the middle of the Dusk of Hope on her screen. “It was fast and relatively small so it’s probably nothing but…” she shrugged. “Given the situation, I thought it was worth mentioning.”

Typhoon Snivel looked at her intensely. She gulped but didn’t avert her gaze. The expression of her captain suddenly soften; for a second, she thought she saw the shadow of a smile. Whether it was real or not, it was gone as soon as it had come.

The red optics returned to the deck as he gave his orders: “Send patrols in this sector. Check them every five minutes.” He then turned toward Rolling Die, nodded and, with a solemnity that took her by surprise, he added, “Keep up the good work.”

“Sir! Yes sir!” she half-shouted with enthusiasm.

This time, she was sure she had seen a smile.

☽☾

Death Scream hated a lot of people.

The list encompassed the entirety of the Imperium, xenos, pirates, renegades and other rebels alike. But some were pretty good at annoying her and, when she was lucky, she was allowed or even encouraged to kill them. By his constant interfering with her progression, the captain of this ship had earned a special place at the top of said list.

Her hope of being quick and unnoticed had been shut down when patrols started to navigate the area. At first, she managed to avoid them but her progression had become way too slow for her liking, and it had been a matter of time before bloodlust and exasperation got the best of her tactical thinking. Now she advanced as fast as her chain axe permitted – which would be even quicker if she didn’t enjoy killing the feeble ponies so much. Flesh and blood painted her armour and her face, now unprotected so she could enjoy her slaughter to its fullest.

She was getting lost in her rage when she felt an impact on her head. It tilted due to the shock of the laser impact – nothing more than a mosquito bite for her – then came back on its initial position. She slowly turned her gaze toward the perpetrator, the hungry smile still on her face. It was a middle-aged earth pony, wearing the uniform of the soldiers in charge of protecting this puny vessel. Death Scream could sense his fear, hidden behind a mask of courage. He tried to reassure himself, and his companions probably, with an angry “Heretic” shouted at her.

How original.

“You noticed?” Death Scream smirked as her blade butchered a servitor in half. “I can’t believe you noticed... What gave it away?” Another crew member died, his throat reduced to a pulp by a kick. “Was is my armour?” An auto-turret was shot silent. “Are the skulls too much? Or maybe it’s on my helm? The chaos emblems are pretty obvious, aren’t they?” A bolter shot exploded amongst three ponies. One of them died immediately, the other two were swiftly executed.

Death Scream walked calmly toward her designated victim, not even exhausted by the massacre. He was the last one alive, his useless lasgun at his hooves. His mask had fallen. He trembled in fear now, pathetically, watching the emissary of death silently making her way toward him.

“So? What gave me away maggot?” she asked with mocking disdain.

Her blade cut a forelimb. The pony fell on the ground, too shocked to scream.

“Did your false Empress get your tongue?”

Another limb was gruesomely detached from its owner. Death Scream purposely slowed her blow to make the wound messier. Blood and shredded flesh splattered the walls with a wet ‘splat’. This time, the pony howled. The chaos spacemare glowered at the sound. She got around him, slowly getting out of his sight. Unable to turn toward her, he desperately struggled to flee his torturer, wiggling pitifully, leaving two trails of blood on the ground. He didn’t go far. There was a sickening sound as both his hind legs were crushed by a set of powerful hooves.

The shriek echoed in the halls. Death Scream smiled like a madpony as she felt the Ruinous Powers influence grow stronger within her.

“I know! It must be my blade inside your corpse!”

And with that, she slid the chainsaw on his flank. Organs fled the battered corpse as if trying to escape the pain that filled it.

“Congratulation, your observation skills served you well,” she mocked one last time, leaving the pony to die a painful and way too slow death.

Still smiling, the renegade went deeper inside the ship.

☀☀☀

There was a deathly hush on the bridge.

Five patrols had ceased to respond, two more had had time to confirm that they were under attack before going mute.

And then... there had been that... execution.

Captain Typhoon Snivel quaffed a long sip of his newly refuelled flask.

“We are boarded,” he stated calmly. “Lock everything lockable, from the centre of the ship to the decks, until we know the menace has been eliminated. Protect the communication centres in priority. Call the battlefleet and tell them the system is under attack of undetermined scope. Warn every captain in the system and tell them to consider any non-responding ship at the hands of the enemy, including ours of course. And may the Empress be with us.”

This is going to be a long day.

Part I - Interlude - The Sorcerer and the Champion

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Somewhere in the Ponyville System

Light-hours away from Ponyville, there was a speck of darkness. It was seemingly insignificant. A spot of black paint on a black canvas, the echo of a glitch on an auspex screen, the shadow of a shadow in a moonless night. It had been drifting in the sector for quite some times now, floating at the edge of the system.

Light-hours away from Ponyville, an age-old warship drifted, flirting with the system’s defensive sensors, close enough for its machine spirit to feel their caresses on its hull, but way too far to ever send a meaningful signal.

Light-hours away from Ponyville, the Somnum Extereri laid in wait.

And inside it was the Sorcerer.

He stood, silent, in the watching bay of the war vessel. He loved the place. It was the only room in the Luna’s Bats’ ship that he could call his own. Sure they had tried to deny it, but is was merely a petty attempt at asserting their dominance. The Sorcerer had played along and begged the spacemares until Night Terror had intervened and gave it to him. He chuckled at the thought. This had been a bonding experience of a sort. The moment he had truly joined the Bats in their crusade.

Not the Bats’, he amended mentally, Night Terror’s crusade.

And for the past decade, it had also been his.

Behind him, dozens of fanatics were chanting for the Gods, asking for their blessing. Sometimes, one managed to catch their gazes upon them. What happened next depended on the cruelty of the Lords of the Immaterium and the cultist’s resilience.

Before him, the system was laid bare, red marbles dancing too slowly for the eye to see. Thousands of lives skittered on one of those spheres. The sorcerer could guess them. He could feel them. A simple push, a simple peek outside the veil of the material universe would reveal it... the flickering light of living souls illuminating the Immaterium.

It was a strange thing for him to consider the life of the Ponyvillians. For years now, the system and its inhabitants had been directly impacted by his predictions and the resulting actions of the Bats. For years he had shaped it, playing a complex game of regicide the opposite side wasn’t even aware of.

He had groomed this system, he had grown it, with the patience of a gardener... He had created a fertile soil for dissension, sowing the seeds from which the Moon Cult had burgeoned. He had patiently cut the weed of the Imperium influence in the sector... An ambush in a neighbouring system, a sabotage in another, the Bats had even diverted some threat to the planet elsewhere or simply destroyed them before they would drive unnecessary attention to the area. He had enduringly funnelled the imperial forces toward other objectives.

It had taken lots of time, lots of sacrifices, he’d had to temper the Bats’ enthusiasm from time to time, but it would be so worth it. The harvest time was coming and soon he would reap the fruits of his efforts.

He chuckled again, louder, longer, anticipating the sweet taste of victory.

“What is so funny, Sorcerer?” asked a guttural, toneless voice.

The Sorcerer flinched.When did she come in?

Of all the spacemares in the ship, no matter how dangerous, powerful or depraved they might be, only Night Terror had this effect on him. She was an unanswerable enigma, a part of his plan he was forced to rely on but could not control nor fully comprehend, let alone read.

And this was just as unsettling as it was thrilling.

“Nothing much, Champion,” he said with confidence.He sensed the small twitch of annoyance at the title he had chosen for her, the almost imperceptible shudder of her tail that escaped her control. One point for each side, Night Terror, he noted with barely hidden amusement.

“I was just thinking how much easier a game becomes when your opponent is not aware they are playing.”

“Some would call that cowardice,” she pointed emotionlessly.

“Would you?” he taunted.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she calmly walked through the room and stood by his side. It had always amused him to see the massive, war demi-goddess of a pegasus at his side, as his equal. There was something exhilarating about it. Even more so as he knew it was just as infuriating to her as it was pleasing to him. He knew better than to do anything more than tease her however. She had just enough respect for his powers and knowledge to admit that she needed him.

She would definitely eliminate him at the very moment he stopped being useful.

They stayed immobile, fixing their eyes on the blackness of space for a few moments, him with amused awe, her with cold detachment. She was the one to break the silence.

“Is this necessary?” she asked, pointing at the cultists.

The Sorcerer nodded solemnly.

“Yes. It fuels the relics you see? I will need them to keep going until all of your mares have reached their objective.”

“Will it take long?”

“It’s a matter of minutes now.”

“Good.”

In the background, a cultist died, burned to crisp by ethereal fires. To their merit, they didn’t scream.

“Your plan had better work,” she said calmly.

“It will,” he affirmed confidently. “I never disappointed you before, I don’t plan on starting now.” The warmare didn’t answer. The psyker took it as a cue to keep talking. “I think that’s the first time in a long time I saw you express doubts about my capacities, Champion. Did I do anything to displease you, my Liege?”

“Did you?”

The Sorcerer laughed. “I would be a fool to say yes.”

In the background another cultist died, rotting and vanishing in mere seconds. This one was not as silent as their predecessor.

“Do you know the first lesson of strategy my mistress ever gave me?” he asked out of the blue.

“No, Sorcerer,” she said flatly, unphased by the shrieks or the abrupt change of topic.

“She taught me that a good plan does not make success a certainty, for such a thing does not exists; a good plan makes failure insignificant,” he stated calmly.

“Funny... Do you know what my Primare’ch taught me once on this very subject?”

“Please, do enlighten me.”

“She taught me that failure was never an option.”

Silence fell once again, cold as a blade against a pony’s neck.

“I suppose a mere pony has different expectations to meet than an all-powerful spacemare,” he said, trying to look calm after such a thinly veiled threat.

“The price of failure stays the same Sorcerer,” she articulated slowly, looking at him intensely. “Don’t forget it.”

“I have more to lose than you could ever take from me spacemare. So rest assured that I won’t,” he responded without hesitations, withstanding the mare gaze.

“Good.”

There was yet another silence. No cultist died this time. The chant had ceased. The ritual was over.

“I think the time has come. Ponyville is ripe for the taking.”

The stoic pegasus let a ravenous smile flourish on her face.

“About time.”

Part I - Chapter 04 - What lies in the Shadows

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PV-01
Admistratum quarter, planetary archives

Twilight wasn’t moving.

Time had slowed to a crawl. Second stretched to minutes, hours, days even... But her brain was racing. Information piled in her mind and was just as quickly filtered depending on its usefulness. Scents, sounds, colours, shapes… each one of her senses unravelled the scene to its bare components

She could almost feel the grenade rolling slowly toward her hoof. She sensed Spike turning toward her. She could almost taste his concern before it even started worming its way on his face.

The unicorn didn’t move as the grenade hit her armoured hoof, but shock had no hold on her; her training had already kicked in.

Her brain was racing.

Everything disappeared from Twilight’s consciousness. Everything but the grenade at her hooves.

The device was custom made, but clearly based on regular, imperial, anti-vehicule, krak grenade models. Impractical. Enough to hurt her. It hadn’t exploded yet... So the fuse was still on. She had ten seconds. Likely less. She had to get rid of it. Her focus shifted. She looked around. Herds of ponies were coming from a distance.

Not the streets.

No way around.

She looked up.

The sky was clear.

There was a way out.

Time resumed… and Twilight moved at last.

The warmare gripped the grenade in her ceramite clad hoof and teleported.

Twilight ascended... – Not high enough. Roofs flashed before her eyes as she went - Higher. She teleported - Once more – until she reached her goal: a small opening in the confining of buildings. Here!

Gathering as much strength as she could in such a short notice, Twilight threw the device. It exploded as soon as it left her hoof, but the equustode was already gone. Lavender lights flashed once again in the darkening sky like the first thunderbolts of an incoming tempest. There was a heavy shock when the massive unicorn in armour fell on the ground, right at her starting point.

Less than ten seconds had passed. But Twilight came back to a very different scene than the one she had left.

Fresh blood flowed lazily around her golden horseshoe. In lieu and place of her serf was the corpse of a pegasus. Blood poured irregularly through his sliced throat. A simple look was enough to understand that the pony was already beyond salvation, save maybe for the work of a skilled medicae. Twilight, however, didn’t care for their fate, she had more important problems right now: Spike was missing.

“Spike?”

For the second time in a very frustrating day, her servitor didn’t answer. But this time, none of the possibilities were reassuring. She checked her surroundings, her retinal display scanning the room in detail, her other senses instantly looking for any trace of the dragon.

She didn’t locate him. But she found something else. Hooves, clapping on the ground, going away from her. She instantly turned toward the source and let and exasperated groan left her muzzle as she found herself facing the archives. What had been a haven less than ten minutes ago was now a potential battlefield.

“Why am I not surprised?” she brooded, her horn glowing as her staff left its maglock to levitate at her side. “At this point, I should expect Chaos cultists and an ambush.”

Without further ado, Twilight teleported inside the building.

The empty entry hallway of the Administratum archive was briefly illuminated by a flash of lavender light before returning to its flickering, dark and, by many standards, impractical level.

Despite the circumstances, Twilight could not help but spare an appreciative glare at the place. While not as big as Canterlot’s libraries, the archives were still inviting. Years of underponied care had turned the place into a maze of shelves filled with raw data in any form known to ponykind – any form known and authorised by the Inquisition anyway – grouped in the faintest semblance of order. The majority would be useless, but there should be interesting pieces of information lying here and there. Unfortunately, she would have to wait before she could study it further.

Twilight went further into the archives, hoping that the running poney had her serf and some answers.

Twilight ran, like a thunderstorm closing on an unsuspecting shore, her heavy, armoured hooves thundering on the stone floor like the fury of some old pagan goddess. She bolted through walls and flashed through shelves, reclaiming metres after metres on her prey. Twilight ran, and the place shook in fear from her rumbling course. And Twilight ran, her steady heartbeats and the rhythmic laps of fleeing hooves pacing her. A few shelves and turns only prevented her to see her prey and strike... for now.

Soon.

Twilight still ran, getting closer. She could glimpse her mark now. A dark cloak hid most of their features, save for a puffy tail and locks of a curly mane... and an unconscious dragonling on their back. More magic poured into the staff each passing second. Bolts of energy crackled around it making the shadows recoil in terror. All she needed now was the right moment. The right opportunity.

Soon.

Twilight and her prey ran, deep into the archive through hidden paths and halls, old and forgotten. Separated by only a few meters, Twilight felt their chase nearing its end. The tang of ozone, sweat and chemical stimulants filled the air around her. It smelled like victory.

NOW!

A golden and lavender thunderbolt flew toward the runaway pony at an astonishing speed. There was no place to hide, there was to time to dodge. She was about to hit. She should have hit.

But she didn’t.

In a instant, as if sensing the incoming attack, the runaway turned. It was a nonsensical, almost unnatural movement but it still happened. The running pony turned, losing none of their speed, right into the wall, getting through it as if it was made of paper.

The staff continued its course, pulverising a shelf and crashing into the wall behind it. Surprise dulled the reaction of the equustode, making her pass the hole for a few metres before she could react appropriately. It didn’t take long, mere seconds, but it was enough; when she finally got through the new passage, her target was gone.

Frustration made its way through Twilight’s throat, manifesting itself in a low grumble. With a thought, she took back her staff and made it hover at her left side as she penetrated the new room with circumspection.

As the thrill of the chase was fading, Twilight realised how deep she had gone into the building.

Darkness had grown so thick the faint glow of her staff was barely enough for even Twilight’s senses to correctly assess the room. Wary of ambushes, Twilight increased the intensity of the light surrounding her horn and staff. The shadows fled, hiding between the shelves and various rubbles and irregularities on the ground, revealing a room which made the entrance looks organized.

It was vast, though it was hard to have a precise idea in that obscurity, and was as much filled with knowledge as it was made of it. There were scrolls and books made of paper, vellum and papyrus and every support where a pony could put ink on. There were dataslates, holo-projectors, cogitators and even deactivated servitors whose sole functions seemed to be to recite the informations they had been filled with, and this was only half of what Twilight could see. All around her, knowledge in all its variety of physical forms, escaping the restraining confines of shelves to join the walls, floor and even ceiling in some parts.

Decades, centuries, millennia worth of data, reports and story gathered in one place. Yet, Twilight ignored it. The only thing she could see was the way too numerous hiding places it provided.

She went on, cautiously now, all her senses in alert, wary of ambush. She had let things get out of control, a luxury she could not afford. It was becoming quite the bad habit. Maybe she had neglected her training more than she cared to admit... However, now she was focused, and her mind was clear. She could think and analyse her situation, making some details she had overlooked blatantly obvious.

It boiled down to one thing.

Her prey had successfully escaped the wrath of an equustode by hoof, with a dragon on their back, without getting lost or getting into an impasse. This showed an incredible strength, willpower, endurance, training, and an extensive knowledge of the building. This was not a feat within everypony’s reach. Whoever this was, they were no ordinary pony.

Twilight was still formulating hypothesis when when something caught her attention. At first, it was nothing more than a distant whisper, but the more she focused on it, the wronger it felt. It took her a few moments to identify the sound and a few more to get its provenance. In the depths of the archives, ponies were chanting.

Twilight dimmed the light of her staff and get deeper into the archive.

Soon.

☀☀☀

Spike shifted in and out of consciousness.

Senseless dreams plagued his fevered mind. Sometimes he could grasp something out of his visions, or maybe his visions were influenced by what was happening around him...

He was fleeing something. Or something was running away from him. Sometimes, when reality drew closer, he could feel the steady pace of a pony running under him. Not a mere pony... a warmare – Twilight? – he knew the difference.

Something inside him woke up at the thought of Twilight fleeing. A spark in the midst of the fog that now inhabited his brain. Thoughts started to gather around it, creating a semblance of coherence. Consciousness was winning its battle for dominance. The fog was starting to retreat, leaving him confused but aware.

The first thing he realised was that he wasn’t running anymore. He was sitting. And nothing moved. Not even his own body. A slight panic took him as felt his body struggled to obey his command. It was numb and heavy. Opening his eyes asked more efforts that he could gather. Even his senses were dulled to the point he barely felt the books uncomfortably pressed against his back scales. A painful groan formed and stayed into his throat turning into an barely audible gurgle. Next to him, something – somepony? – moved and got closer. The sound of hooves softly clapping on the stone floor reverberated strangely in his fins.

“Are you awake?” said a distorted voice.

The faint feeling of a hoof pressed on his scale made him flinch, or the pathetic equivalent that his body now permitted. That was enough for the pony, however.

“Good!”

Spike tried to move, to force his muscle to obey. A shiver went through his muscles as a result.

“Don’t worry! It’ll pass. You’ve been a tinsy winsy drugged, you see? It should be gone in a jiffy, maybe two.”

Another failed groan passed through the dragon lips.

“Shush, silly! You’re gonna swallow your tongue! And we don’t want that do we? Now stay here and don’t make a noise. Your mistress is coming and I don’t want to miss the fun~! Just relax and enjoy the soothing sound of gunshots.”

The “click” of a rifle being loaded punctuated her sentence and sent a chill down Spike’s spine. Inside the confines of his fogged mind and drugged body, all the dragon could do was to curse his weakness.

☀☀☀

As she drew closer to the chantings, Twilight started to grasp more of the words, and she wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t sure what made her skin crawl, the words spoken or the heresy contained in them. Probably both. It didn’t matter either way.

The empty hallways were dimly lit by archaic torches probably made with the materials on hoof. The thought was cringe-worthy but the mere presence of heretic in her living quarters left little to no room in her mind for more “dissatisfaction”.

There was several dozens of ponies, all gathered in a relatively small room, or whatever the space delimited by books and furnitures could be called. As far as Twilight could see from her position, there was only one entrance and thus one exit, which made her task way easier.

“For the Empress,” she whispered.

Twilight entered the room.

The first cultist didn’t even realise his death. He simply wondered why his voice wouldn’t come out anymore. Blood loss quickly got the better of his thinking ability as the staff that had perforated his throat left the wound. Two more followed as the golden blade sliced through their neck and temple. The decapitated pony marvelled at the rising floor before everything went dark. The second gurgled as her jaw enjoyed the sudden freedom that a brain removal would grant.

At this point, some cultists realised something was wrong – namely a demi-goddess clad in gold slaughtering them. Three more ponies died before any alarm was raised. By the time the cultists’ defence started to organise, Twilight’s victim count was in the double digits.

There was a pause, as the equustode stood before the exit. The heretics watched her in awe, unsure of how to interpret the presence of one of the Empress’s daughter in their midst. The staff lazily flew at the left side of the warmare, the blade facing the assembly as if passing a silent judgement on the crowd.

Then its dance started anew.

And more heretics died.

★★★

Somewhere in the archive, through a sniper lens, somepony watched the fight with great interest. The spectacle was like nothing she’d ever seen. It was not mere destruction of the enemy, it was something else, something more. The cloaked pony watched in amazement as the lone unicorn moved with a deadly efficiency, each motion resulting in the disarming, impairment or death of a cultist. It was beautiful in its own way. It was a dance. A dance of death and the cultist were trying, and failing, to follow the pace imposed by the warmare. It was truly beautiful. Too bad she had to cut it short...

☀☀☀

Many more heretics lay on the ground before any worthwhile resistance manifested itself. At first, they had tried to fight, or flee, but miserably failed at both. Without the proper equipment, they could barely make a dent on Twilight’s armour, let alone hurt her. Now they merely tried to defend their life, with very similar results. For a moment, the unicorn wondered if they would keep getting in line to be slaughtered, but she suspected she wouldn’t be so lucky. And for once, unfortunately, reality met her expectations.

As one, the ponies started moving. At first glance, it looked like they were fleeing again, trying to get as much space as possible between them and the equustode.

Twilight knew better. This was not the panicked attitude of a herd of ponies fleeing. It was something else, something she had already seen countless times in the barracks. Ponies getting far enough not to get drawn into something bigger than them, but not too far so they could see as much as possible of what was to come. It was the organized yet unconscious moves of a crowd about to assist a duel. They were making a ring for her and whatever stood as their champion.

Pondering her options, Twilight decided to wait for her foe to come out.

Whispers and hushed praises rose from the crowd as the pony fended it.

Said champion was a unicorn. They were young – if their look was anything to go by, they were probably fresh into adulthood. They wore heresy as a robe, both literally and figuratively. It was almost stereotypical. If their unholy-word ridden piece of clothes wasn’t enough to identify their allegiance, they had elected to paint the characteristic eight-branch star on their unmaned head, centred on their horn, and did the same on their tailless flanks. But Twilight need not those to mark them. The influence of the Warp was thick around the yellow unicorn, enough to make the equustode’s skin crawl. If she could, she’d have sentenced them to death twice. Or more.

Twilight didn’t lose time. As soon as her prey was in sight, she attacked. She throughher staff with all her strength, making it spin so fast it looked like a disk. The golden, chakram-like projectile hit their position, crashing into the crowd of bowing cultists, leaving a pile of broken bodies in its wake.

Twilight dared a victorious smile. It quickly faded. In its stead, a frustrating groan almost managed to escape her muzzle. The psyker was still here, standing a few metres away from their initial position, a satisfied smile on their face.

They were waiting. Waiting for Twilight to make the first move. Again.

The warmare was happy to oblige.

She sent her staff again, faster. More ponies died… but their leader survived. Untouched.

This was no illusion. They were as real as she was, she had no doubt about it. Somehow, they used their vile sorcery to nullify her blows

She sent the staff a third time, trying a flurry of attacks instead of a powerful one, stabbing at the psyker’s position again and again. This attempt yield no results.

Twilight “dissatisfaction” was reaching a peak.

Instead of a fight, she was caught in another pointless chase. The psyker seemed to have no intention to actually confront their foe. They annoyingly shifted in and out of reality, escaping her attacks. Even more infuriating was the feeling, more of an educated deduction, that something was ahoof. It was obvious the psyker was waiting for something. They were stalling and she knew it, it was painfully obvious.

They could barely keep up at this; their breath was getting short and shallow, their coat was drenched in sweat, at times they almost struggled to stand up.; Meanwhile the equustode was barely phased. Yet they kept going. Soon they would slip up and get caught by the staff or claimed by the very forces they used to cheat death. Yet they keep going. And there was barely anything the lavender unicorn could do about it. Yet.
.
But it didn’t make things any less “unsatisfactory”. Every attack avoided by the psyker; every fanatical smile on the faces of the heretics as they died, taking blows intended for their leader; every second she was forced to stay here instead of looking for Spike just added to and already overfilled pool of “frustration”.

The staff struck again, killing two more cultists.

The psyker reemerged, a mere metre away, a mocking smirk on their face.

Twilight Sparkle was no longer merely “dissatisfied”.

☽☾

Despite their efforts and exhaustion, Lasting Chains could not contain a victorious smile on their face. True, the false-empress whorse had taken them by surprise and killed many of them... but she was alone and they had something in store for this scenario. The psyker just had to stall their foe long enough for the rest of the cultists to prepare the counter-attack.

Another blow was struck at them, and Lasting Chains let the grip of the Warp claim them again.

The material world faded to be replaced with the taunting faces of daemons. They were gathering around the psyker, testing their defences, haunting them, waiting for the small slip, the small lapse in their concentration that would expose the tasty looking soul of the unicorn. It was getting harder to ignore the inhuman faces shouting, pleading, shushing, promising, whispering, crying, laughing or, and not limited to, any combination of the former. But victory was at hoof, Lasting Chains knew better than blowing it up at the last minute. Drawing in their soon to be failing strengths, they emerged of the warp, ready to taunt the imperial foal once again.

Lasting Chains just had the time to see the face of a purple demi-goddess, contorted with anger, before the world collapsed.

Something thumped them. No, it felt more like they had been sent at an incredible speed on a plasteel wall. Their whole skeleton quaked at the impact. Their body went limp like a broken toy. Reality lost its substance. There was only darkness. Lasting Chains felt like they were flying. Maybe they were... they couldn’t feel the ground anymore.

Maybe sleeping would make things make sense again?

A shock, softer than the previous one woke her up.

“–astime... ismy... itor?” came a voice from outside the darkness.

It took an undetermined amount of time for the psyker to understand. It was as dreadful as staggering. They were screamed at so loudly it hurt like a kick in the face. For the first time since the beginning of the fight they foolishly got themself into, Lasting Chains realised just how dangerous the warmare was.

Must... stop her...

The thought emerged at the surface of her consciousness. They cast the spell, using whatever life force remained in their broken body. A spell that got them their name...

Lasting Chains died, with the small comfort that the Daemons ripping her soul to shreds were slightly less frightening after having faced the wrath of an equustode.

☀☀☀

The psyker hung limply at the end of the leg of a ticked off equustode, broken and barely conscious from a kick delivered to their face. Twilight groaned in frustration as she realised they were too far gone to answer her questions. She was about to direct her anger toward the crowd watching the spectacle when she realised the trap she had fallen into. They had managed to catch her attention long enough. She had not noticed the canon pointed at her.

It had taken her less than a day to show negligence again...

Unacceptable, she thought laconically.

★★★

A cloaked mare grinned as her prey was, at last, in position. There was a light “click” as she lightly pressed the trigger.

“Let’s end this party with a bang...”

☀☀☀

Twilight tried to move but she found herself unable to do so as chains of power were starting to cover her body. It wouldn’t hinder her long, a handful of seconds. But she didn’t really have that.

“Truly unacceptable.”

The detonation filled the room.

☀☀☀

The bullet shell rolled toward Spike with a maddening slowness, making a shrill sound while doing so. Anger and shame rose inside him, cutting through the fog that had invaded his thoughts, as they rallied behind one very simple idea. Getting up and bringing pain to those who’d hurt his Lady. His body struggled against the chemicals in his muscles, making him shake violently and erratically at the effort. The feeling of helplessness was nauseating, the pain, even worse, but the dragon refused to let go.

Or so he thought. The noise of a sniper rifle reloading had a bone chilling effect Spike was still unfamiliar with. A dissident thought started to hijack his efforts: I’m going to die...

Hungry for the territory it had lost, the fog came back... To be brutally thrown out.

There is no way I’m going without a fight!

Spike’s efforts redoubled and the fog definitively left as the anger rose inside him.

I am the monitor of equustode Twilight Sparkle! Defender of the Throne! And I will live and I will die like it!

The poison in his muscle started to recede.

Still shaking, Spike slowly rose on his feet.

Part I - Interlude - The Shortest Night

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PV-01
The Devious Plot cantina, recreation sector

The bar was a common place for the miners to gather after their shift. There was alcohol for a start, and the occasional pony willing to have a good time. Gravel Ire usually avoided it like the noisy, drunkard-filled, cramped room it was. Tonight however, he needed the release and the cheap apple cider that brought it. The day had been worse than usual and the day of a miner is usually hard to top. First, ten members of his crew called sick and forced him and the rest to work twice as much to compensate, then they were told there was some kind of imperial official that was to come and thus they would have to end their shift late for some fucking security reasons.

“Damn those fucking, snooty, know-it-all, better-than-you nobles,” he slurred angrily. “Come from Canterlot, looking down on us while they never did a damn on their own. Wouldn’t lift a hoof to save their own life if there wasn’t a slave to do it for them!”

The stallion interrupted his known-by-heart rant and watched his reflection in the foamless, amber liquid, staring bitterly at the recent white stripes in his once pristine black mane. There was a time where the ambient light would hide them. Not anymore. It was but one of the several tolls the mines had taken on him. With a disgusted groan, he emptied his mug. Drops of alcohol flew out and stained his grey coat. He didn’t react. He had ceased to care by the third cider and to notice by the fifth. He was still looking for the dose that would make the ponies around him more tolerable. Apparently, seven was still not enough, but he was getting close.

“Heya, friend!” said an annoyingly cheerful voice next to him.

Or maybe not so close.

“Is this seat taken?” asked another in a pain-in-the-plotly joyous tone.

“What’s your guess?” he mumbled unpleasantly, hoping that his tone would be a cue.

It was not.

The two ponies sat next to him, a great smile on their face and a mug in their hoof. Gravel Ire grumbled to himself. Just as he thought ponykind could be tolerable. He decided to ignore them. Years of experience had made him really good at it.

“Tis a nice night isn’t it?” the first pony ask, still unbearably happy.

“Assuredly! A superb one!” the second answered.

A dreadful thought came to the miner. They wouldn’t...

They would and did.

Three minutes of painful chatter later, The two unicorn-shaped nuisances were still at it, babbling his calm away. The two additional ciders he took were still not enough and hitting the double digits was something he left for the truly desperate. Something he would become soon if he didn’t get rid of them. He’d thought of leaving the place, but the two ponies were blocking his exit. And he was too proud to give them what counted as a win in his book.

“Hey did you know?”

Shut up...

“Know what?”

Shut up.

“Tonight’s the summer solstice!”

Shut up!

“Really? The night’s gonna be short!”

SHUT UP!

“Quite so! We better make the most of it then! What do you think?”

SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Even with enough alcohol to put his liver on strike, Gravel knew an opportunity when he saw one and he grabbed it. It was either that or physically assault them.

“Short night my ass! Just leave me the fuck alone!” he groaned very audibly. “Every minute with your babbling feel like a freaking eternity!”

There was a second of silence. Quickly broke by their laughter.

“Ah! We got a grumpy one!” one of them said.

“Indeed! We should leave him alone now,” his accomplice answered.

“About time!” Gravel grumbled just audibly enough so they would hear him.

The intruders left the table, still laughing at him. The closest, the one on his right, tripped, falling on him and discharging his warm beverage on him at the same time. Gravel felt a sharp pain as the pony landed on his chest, which was less of an annoyance than the stallion that caused it. He helped the nuisance the best he could: by shoving the pony off of him. They exited the bar, still laughing, leaving the grumpy digger both soaked and furious.

While grumbling his best insults, describing mostly anatomically impossible and extremely painful situations for the duo, Gravel looked around him searching for a way to clean himself up. It was useless to count on the ponies here. The few that was still in the room were wasted beyond recovery. Some of them were even lying in pools of what seemed to be a mix of alcohol and body fluids.

“That’s gonna hurt tomorrow,” he sneered.

Still, he was not in a very good condition himself, and if he was to be in any shape to work the next day’s shift, he’d better go back to bed as soon as possible. Gravel was starting to feel dizzy. It was getting harder to focus. If only he could find a towel, or a napkin, or anything! The stallion started to stagger aimlessly in the room. Something wet made him trip. He felt the sharp pain on his chest again. He had not drunk that much, did he?

“You’re getting old,” he laughed, trying to get back some of his confidence.

Instinctively, he put his hoof on his chest, checking for injury. The wet and warm feeling made the blood still inside him run cold.

“Oh fuck! How the... Fuck!”

The cut on his chest was deep. Blood was continuously flowing through it, staining his fur way more than the cider had done. Gravel Ire tried and failed to get up. His limbs were weak and alcohol and panic made them unresponsive. The stallion slipped again, wetting his coat with even more blood.

“Du-did I slip on... on my... blood? OhFuckohfuckohFuckOhFuckOhFuckOhFuck...”.

Panic gave way to full-fledged terror. Gravel tried to get up while clutching his open wound with expected results. His face fell on the pool of his own fluid. Blood was everywhere, he could not escape.

“SWEET CELESTIA! SOMEPONY HELP! ANYPONY! HELP!” he pleaded.

Dead indifference met his call.

“Somepony help me...” he sobbed.

Nopony came.

Dead ponies never do.

☽☾

“No luck so far, brother mine,” the first unicorn said stashing his monomolecular dagger in a fold of his cloak.

“A noticeable lack of luck,” the second answered in kind.

“Oh well, the night is still young,”

“The shortest night of the year,”

“There’s no need for the night to end, though.”

“It can last as long as it needs.”

“For the Warmistress is coming back,” they finally said in tandem. “And the night will last forever.”

Part I - Chapter 05 - End of opening

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PV-01
Planetary archives

Twilight stood defiantly, a heap of corpses at her hooves.

She rolled a body over with a push of her hoof to see the bullet wound. One hit, one kill just like all the others. This one had been the first, the cannoneer. She remembered the scene perfectly. The detonation that had filled the room, the troubling absence of pain, the gaping wound in his chest, the reloading sound… Then everything became blurry as she started to kill again. She had no time to waste wondering what was happening because... well...the room needed purification.

By that point, the fight had become a one-sided butchery. Her new ally had shot down any pony daring enough to get close to the heavy weapon while Twilight's blade cleaved into the herd of frightened lost souls. The screams of heretics had filled the room a few minutes more until the only audible sound came from Twilight's chantings.

Now that the situation was calm again, Twilight was left with a plethora of unanswered questions. A few things were sure about the mysterious sniper. For a start, they were expertly trained and they hated these cultists as much as she did. This didn’t leave many possibilities. The Inquisition was one. Another spacemare was another, though none of the warmares Twilight had met fit the profile. In any case, even though she didn’t know all the details about the mare’s identity, she had a reasonable idea.

No, the more perplexing question was not “who?” but “why?”. No matter how Twilight turned the question in her head, none of the scenarios she imagined made sense. No need to think about that now, she thought tiredly, massaging her temple. I will get the answer soon enough.

The equustode watched the pony at her hooves. Determining the trajectory of the bullet was not easy, but she had quite a few bodies to work with. She worked fast and efficiently. Soon she had a basic idea of where to look. That was enough.

Twilight left the room, letting the darkness claim its territory once again.

☀☀☀

Facing a spacemare was a terrifying prospect. Spike had been in equustodes’ care long enough to know the full extent of their capacities. Yet, here he was, with a handicap to boot.

I bet Twilight’d have some Codex line or a quote for me, he mused. Something like ’If your life is given in the service of the Empress, your death shall not be in vain’. The dragon frowned at the thought. He’d be glad to die in service of his Lady and the Empress, but he was in no hurry either. Dying here served no purpose at all. Think, monitor! You got this!

He was up. That was an improvement. His whole body was screaming in pain, but pain he knew. He was still weakened, but the shackled-at-the-bottom-of-the-sea feeling was fading by the second, washed away by his blood stream. He should be able to walk. His vision was still troubled and his eyes hard to keep open, but the room didn’t offer much to look at anyway.

Okay. Best get out of here before she notices that I’m up again.

He had no sooner formulated the thought that the spacemare turned toward him. He lacked the strength to facepalm but he depicted it vividly in his mind. The serf’s heartbeats echoed in is fins. His muscles twitched, full of adrenaline, ready to fight but unable to... The spacemare was on him before he could react. She was on him before he could even see her move. There was a blur. Then he was between her hooves, being crushed by her unnatural strength.

“Did you see it? Did ya? Did ya?” she asked, shaking him for emphasis.

“Huh?” he tried.

“The fight! It. Was. Amazing! Your mistress was killing them like they were not even there! And then the psyker appeared and your mistress attacked them!”

“Wha-”

“The psyker was shifting in and out of reality so your mistress got really pissed and then she caught them just as they left out of wherever they were hiding and she punched them so hard even I felt it!”

“Wai-”

“Then she grabbed them and asked them where you were. I can say she was pretty pissed because I could hear her from here, and I can tell you we’re pretty damn far. That’s when the psyker used some sort of spell to chain her, and a cultist tried to shoot her with a big cannon.”

“Wh-”

“I’m sure she would have dodged it, but I didn’t want to take the chance so I killed him. She was very surprised but she kept fighting and since she knew I was there I told myself ‘oh what the fuck! I might as well help her!’ and then I shot anyone that tried to bother her while she fought. IT. WAS. AMAZING!”

Sensing a pause in the unending flow of words, Spike took his chance. “Wait... Did you say you helped Lady Twilight?”

“Well duh! What did you expect? That I shot her? Don’t be silly, Spike!”

“You know my name?”

“Of course I do! You told it to me yourself!”

“Wha- who are you?”

A malicious grin appeared on the mare’s face. Without a word, she put her hoof on her chest, tapping it, as if to show him something. It took him a second to click.

“No way...”

The grin became a huge smile. She opened her mouth to say more but immediately closed it. Something had caught her attention. “Oh! She’s coming! This is gonna be so exciting! Say, are you feeling better?”

He flexed his arms, testing his muscle reactivity. The pain and numbness were still present but nothing a good rest wouldn’t shake. “I guess I’m okay...”

“Good! Wouldn’t want to greet your mistress with you all poisoney and tired would we?”

“I guess not...”

“Here take this,” she said while shoving her weapon in his arm. Surprise, poison-induced fatigue and the simple fact that the weapon was twice as big as him almost made him fall.

“Why are you giving me–?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Well duh! Your mistress is coming and I wouldn’t want her to think I’m her enemy!”

Yeah… You wouldn’t want that.

☀☀☀

The hoofsteps echoed in the air. The pace was slow and deliberate. The equustode wanted her arrival to be known. There was not a sound in response, but she knew she was on the right track. Ballistic was not her primary interest but, as with almost all academic fields of study, she excelled at it. And as most of the time, she was right. The room was small, hard to see from afar but offering a wonderful vantage point, permitting well-adjusted shots from above the shelves.

Nice... I wonder how much time it took to prepare all this.

The equustode came inside, her weapon cocooned in her magic aura. The time for answers was long due.

The room was bigger than she expected – the relative order made it look spacious, despite the presence of two genetically-enhanced mares and a dragon inside. There was plenty of space for weapons and various gears while permitting it to be easily defended. Twilight guessed there was another entrance, hidden somewhere to permit a swift retreat. This place was well organised. Twilight saw all this and more. But this was all taking place in her subconscious. Right now two things monopolised her attention, competing for her brain power and emotions.

The first stood at her right side in the form of Spike, a sniper rifle too big for him to use in his arms. The dragon seemed fine at first glance, but his Lady knew better. He was doing a good job of hiding it, but he was exhausted. He was stiff and uncomfortable, his legs and arms were quivering at the effort of carrying the gun. His eyes were slightly out of focus and his scales were discoloured at some places. Twilight could list twenty poisons that would do that to him. Fortunately, none of them were lethal nor permanently incapacitating. They looked at each other with a relief they both tried to hide.

“Monitor,” she said.

“Lady Twilight Sparkle,” he answered.

“Are you okay?” she asked, trying to hide her concern.

“Tough as a dragon, my Lady,” he said with a smile, which was code for “I’m weakened but I’ll survive and I can still do my duty”.

The hint of a smile appeared on her muzzle. Good boy.

It faded as soon as she turned toward the other presence in the room, her frustration overwriting any other emotion.

The pink mare was sat a few meters in the distance, her position relaxed and unthreatening. Her now familiar black cloak was open, revealing a light power armour of the same colour, save for two white shoulder plates, and no weapons. It didn’t really appease Twilight. Even sheathed, a sword was still a sword and a spacemare was still a killing machine. And just as she had suspected, the pink earth warpony was beyond any doubt a spacemare.

But it was not the attitude nor the whole situation that was the most unsettling thing for the equustode. She was prepared for that.

She wished she could have said the same about her identity. Despite the change of mane style and of attire... The size, posture and colour scheme was hard to mistake.

“You have my thanks for your timely intervention,” she ventured, trying to open the dialogue. The spacemare beamed and nodded. “I assume Pain Keeper is not your real name?”

“You’re correct~,” the earth pony sang. “You can call me that if you want. But my true name’s Pinkamena Diane Pie. Or ‘Pinkie’ for short. Easier to say on the battlefield.”

Twilight’s eyebrow twitched. “I’ve had a very long and frustrating day, Pinkamena,” she said as calmly as possible. “I give you a minute to tell me who you are and what this is all about.”

Spike tried to warn her mistress of the mistake she was making, but the spacemare beat him to it. The pink mare smile got broader. She took a deep breath and did exactly what was asked of her.

“It all started when I discovered those cultists. I started spying on them. Took me weeks infiltrating them. So I was busy learning about them and sabotaging their organisation, then I learned about your arrival and your inspection today!”

“Huh?”

“So I thought to myself, ‘Pinkie… the equustode will want to see your work! You have to show her what you’re doing here!’ So I prepared everything so you could see how hard I work to keep the planet safe. Then I came toward you but you were all pensive and you said out loud ‘All I want now is to report to the Empress’,” she quoted in a perfect Twilight’s imitation, ” and I was like ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’ ”

“It was you...”

Pinkamena ignored Twilight’s intervention. “Which is true! I wouldn’t have been able to show you my work so if I were you I would have given myself a chance! But as I was about to pick you up and make you come for an ambush on the cultists I lured into the archives, one pony sent a grenade at your hoof.”

“Wait...”

“And then you got all flashy and teleporty and you got away with it and it was awesome, but while you were gone, the pegasus, did I mention it was a pegasus? Anyway, he drugged your monitor and tried to kill him, or maybe just capture him for interrogation which is worse since they’d have killed him after anyway.”

“Wha–”

“So I had no choice but to intervene since you were all flashing and flying with a grenade. So I killed him and took your monitor with me so you’d follow me. And it worked! Except when you attacked me... That part was kinda scary. But I survived so it’s okay. I guess I should have taken time to explain everything to you but I think I got a little carried away... Anyway, you found the cultists, we killed them and now you’re here and I’m sorry I took your frie– monitor without asking.”

She ended her tirade with a wide smile. Twilight merely blinked. Her brain struggling to process the flow of words. The story of the spacemare made sense, at least the substance of it, but she still had some doubts. “Let’s suppose I believe you. Why are you not on the list of spacemares I have to check on?”

“Well duh! I am on it! You just didn’t check on the right places! What kind of intelligence pony would I be if my name was in the official, easy to access list!”

Twilight nodded slowly, forced to admit there was some method to the madness. “Can I access those files then?”.

The earth pony beamed. “Of course! Filename: Pinkamena Diane Pie. Access code: 16-1-18-20-25 8-1-18-4. Oh! And don’t let the ’file not found’ fool you,” she whispered with an accomplice wink. “It’s just to make sure nopony goes prying in there.”

“Got that Spike?” Twilight asked, doing her best to ignore the pink mare antic.

“On it.”

It took a few seconds for Spike to access the files and find the answers they looked for.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie, Intelligence pony. Specialised in information gathering, infiltration, exfiltration, assassination, troop support, sabotage, trapping, tracking and tailing. In service for eighty-seven years in Ponyville. There’s even her old chapter record. Very impressive by the way. I see nothing out of place Lady Twilight.”

The unicorn nodded once again.

“Well. I guess you showed me what you’re capable of. Keep up the good work. Now I’m going back to my quarter if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, sure! Here, let me guide you!”

Twilight hesitated a moment before agreeing. The mare was not the sanest she’d met, but she appeared to be loyal. That was enough. For now. “Lead the way, Pinkamena Diane Pie.”

“Okidoki. Hey did I tell you–”

“In silence please.”

Surprisingly enough, she did exactly just that.

☀☀☀

DP Battalion barracks, training grounds

Military circles often debated on whether the Planetary Defence Forces or the orbital defence was the most important to protect the Imperium worlds. As far as Applejack was concerned, even though the ships in orbit and the pegasus vessels above her head were the first line of defence against threats, it was ultimately up to the battalion and the ponies on the ground to make sure the planet would not fall in enemies hooves, hands, claws or whatever foul appendages they might have.

Unfortunately, the regiments on her supervision were seriously lacking. Not in terms of equipment, thanks to Rarity, nor training or fighting will – she had made sure of that. The problem was simply the numbers of soldiers. It saddened her sometimes to see that even a few hundred more regulars would improve the efficiency of the whole place many times over. Unfortunately, she was to do without them and face the fact that the barracks wouldn’t be used to their full potential. The training ground, for instance, would stay deserted for hours each day, often leaving it for the spacemare alone to use it. It had perks, but she couldn’t help but wishing she could do more.

The earth warpony let the thought die and shifted her attention back to the sphere in her hooves. After a few minutes of increasingly frantic “bip”s and “click”s, the sphere let out a low whine a few times and went silent.

Applejack sighed deeply, admitting her defeat. “Next time, I’ll ask Rarity to use her magic to set up this thingy. This looks way simpler when she does it...” She let the device fall on the floor, next to the dismantled pieces of her weapon. “I guess I’ll go with something else tonight.”

In truth, it was not the complexity of the device that caused problems to the mare.

Somepony was watching her. It had just been a gut feeling at first, something she could have dismissed on the visit of the equustode or the guardsponies around her. But even now that she was alone, she could still feel the skin-crawling touch of pony glares on her back... And something in her guts told her it was not the usual admiring attention she occasionally got from new bloods. Those were usually bad at hiding and prone to (rather poorly) hushed praises on her marksmanship. The silent treatment she was receiving was unnerving.

Applejack sighed.

“Listen, partner,” she articulated to her presumed stalker. “I dunno what you want but I give you ten seconds to get out of here before I make you.”

Five seconds passed without any change.

“Half time.”

Four more seconds passed.

“I warned you.”

At those words, four ponies left their hiding places. They all wore cloaks and bore their best nonchalant faces. Two of them were of the Battalion. She knew them, Chrome Cloud and Lightning Gust. Twin pegasi, promising but rather discrete, assigned to patrols and scouting. The others were not soldiers. Probably miners, Applejack thought.

Had somepony came just at that moment, it would have looked like a bunch of fillies caught stealing from the cookie jar. But Applejack knew better. The obscurity and the ample clothes could not conceal the weapons underneath. The cold wind of the night could not hide the familiar smell of fear and adrenaline, nor could its soft whistling damper their loud heartbeats. They were here for bad reasons, and for the spacemare, it was written all over them like a bad poker face.

“I give y’all one chance to explain. You better say the truth.”

Her words worked as intended: Their nervousness went up a notch. They definitely weren’t here with good intentions. The ponies glanced at each other, silently daring one of their comrades to talk. Finally one of the pegasi tried. “I don’t know what you mean. We–”

“I warned you...” interrupted Applejack, shaking her head.

Her twin hearts pumped a massive dose of chemicals in her enhanced physiology, as almost a ton of muscles and armour charged. The earth ponies struggled with their clothes, trying to reach the weapon beneath them. They failed. They were dead soon after. The twins fared better. They jumped out of the way of the spacemare, getting rid of the cloak and taking off in one go. The earth warpony sneered.

My training used against me... That’s irony for you.

Applejack assessed the situation. They’d come prepared. That was obvious. Flying targets were always a pain in the flank to deal with, even with her heavy bolter, and right now, she couldn’t even count on it. She’d have to do with two defensive grenades and a combat knife. They, on the other hoof, had come with crude plasma pistols. It was time to get creative.

The pegasi knew they had an advantage and they pressed it. Shifting in the air above the mare, they made plasma rain not unlike the paleo weather-control patrols of Canterlot. The spacemare avoided the shots. It helped that the weapons were of poor craftsmanship. And that the twins were simply lousy shots while airborne. Applejack was biding her time – a few more shots – preparing for her counter-attack.

The opportunity came as she expected, in the form of a sudden hiss followed by a cry of pain. There was a pause in the attack. It lasted four seconds. One of the pegasi let go of her overheated weapon, and the other slowed to check on his sister. Four seconds. Instants for a pony in a fight. Hours for a horsetarte.

The first grenade hit the brother in the face. Shrapnel tore it to shreds, killing him right away. The second one detonated next to the other pegasus’ left wing. The deflagration and shards of metal blasted the limb off, forcing her on the ground.

Applejack walked over to her, neither hurried nor slow. Her calm glaze faced the hate-filled one of the crippled foe.

“You made three mistakes here, partner. One, plasma weapons tend to overheat.” She kicked the fallen plasma pistol nonchalantly and walked closer to the pegasus. “Two, y’all should have trained more. I spotted you immediately, there was no cohesion between you and your aim was awful.” She talked matter-of-factly, not concerned by the fact she was lecturing an enemy. She watched Chrome Cloud. The mare had been a promising element once, now she lay at her hooves, dying and filled with hatred. How long had she kept this façade? How long had she lied to her? To the Battalion?

Too long.

She lifted her hoof above her foe’s head “And three, you should have chosen a better prey.”

The hoof fell with a sickening sound.

“Always an uninspired idea to pick on apex predators,” a familiar voice commented from behind her. “Isn’t it, dear?”

“Better us... than somepony else...” added a vox.

Applejack turned calmly around to face the newcomers. It took her a glance to see they had to face the same... annoyance. Blood soiled the yellow platings of Fluttershy’s forelegs. Same as her. As for Rarity, her servo-arms were now equipped with weapons instead of crafting tools. This in itself was a bad sign.

“LadyRarity, Lady Fluttershy,” she greeted, acknowledging the spacemare and dreadnought.

“Very nice shots Applejack, I must say,” the techmare praised. “I feared that you’d require our help, but as always your skill is superlative.”

“You’re too kind. It was stupid of me to be unarmed. Plus I wouldn’t have minded the help.”

“And sabotage such a skilful display? Nonsense, dear.”

The vox spat static for a few seconds before Fluttershy talked. “We... didn’t want to interrupt your fight.”

“Don’t fret over it. We all fight for the Empress. My fights are yours. Yours are mine.”

“Well said, darling,” commented Rarity, passing a hoof through her mane. “Now do you have any idea of what is happening?”

“Not a fucking clue. I was hoping you’d know.”

“...” buzzed the vox.

“I have no idea either. I was mid-maintenance with Fluttershy when a bunch of ruffians barged in my atelier.”

“Ouch...”

A feral smile appeared on Rarity’s face. “Indeed.”

“...” the vox buzzed again.

“These attacks don’t bode well. There’s something fishy ‘bout them.”

“You don’t say. Attacking the three of us? Looks like someone is trying to sabotage the planetary defences to me.”

“Sisters...”

Both spacemares turned back to the sarcophagus. “I am sorry, Fluttershy,” Rarity said with a short bow. “Did you want to say something?”

“Can’t you smell it?”

“What?” both mares answered as they sniffed the air.

“There’s smoke rising from the town.”

Silence grew thick as the faintest smell of ashes and burned material finally registered. It was barely noticeable. It meshed with the scent of fresh blood, gunpowder and ozone. It was barely noticeable, but it still triggered their conditioning. There knew it well, there was no other like it.

This was the smell of war.

“That cannot be good,” Rarity noted with gravity.

“Nope. Not good at all.”

☀☀☀

Cloudsdale aerial defence base

“I will not repeat myself anymore, who are you working for?”

The voice thundered into the air, making the walls shudder.

It was easy to forget that Rainbow Dash was a spacemare. She was always cheerful and so close to the ponies around her that they just forgot her upbringing. Seeing her angry, a mangled pegasus at the end of her hoof, was a brutal reminder of who, of what she was.

They were fifty, all the chain of command, crowded around her in a small balcony, barely wide enough to contain them all. Still, here they stood, witnessing the scene unfolding before their eyes without a word.

“Wanna play tough? Guess what?”

She let the wingless pegasus at the end of her hoof go.

“The ground’s tougher.”

She didn’t even bother watching the fall. Her attention was already on the next pony. The stallion was whimpering pathetically on the ground. He was desperately looking at the soldiers around him, trying to find some help from the mortals. He found none. Only contempt and anger. Yet this was preferable than to face the spacemare’s glare.

“Look at me,” she demanded.

The calm in her voice was somehow scarier than her recent outbursts. The earth pony, a young recruit by the name of Hazy Armour, desperately fought his cowardice and turned his head toward the mare but refused to look into the purple eyes fixing her chest instead.

“LOOK AT ME TRAITOR!”

The pony obediently lifted his eyes. He regretted it instantly. What he saw was disappointment out of any proportion and the death it had brought on him. If only he had not listened to the twins... If only he had come to her... Regrets filled him. It was too late. If only he had come to her.

“Who are you working for. Tell. Me.”

“I don’t know!” the words left his mouth on their own. “I swear! Chrome Cloud and Steel Wind came to me! They said they worked for the betterment of the Imperium! That the Moon was coming back to bring order and justice into the galaxy! They told me I could make a difference! I didn’t know I would have to do that! That’s all I know! I swear!”

“Is that all you know?”

“That’s all I know I swear! That’s all I know... I swear that’s all I know...”

“Good.” She extended a hoof toward the crowd. “Soldier, your weapon,” she asked to nopony in particular. Somepony instantly filled the waiting hoof. The barrel was put on the pony’s temple. “No traitor.”

Without a hint of hesitation, she pressed the trigger. The detonation resonated in the room, deafening at such a distance but dwarfed by the spacemare’s words. There were few rules under Dash. “No traitor” was the first. The silence grew thick. It took a running mare barging into the open space to break the stillness. She was out of breath and her mane was a mess. By the look of it, she had gone through half of Cloudsdale to reach the spacemare.

“Rain– Lady Rainbow Dash, I’m sorry to bother you...” she started, between two heavy breaths.

“I’m not in the mood... spit it!” the spacemare barked.

“We have a problem...”

“Spit it!”

“The planet is under attack,” the messenger gulped.

“What?”

“The Dusk Squadron signalled an attack,” she summarised. “Several ships are unresponsive, and the Dusk of Hope was boarded by an unknown assailant. We don’t know how many more ships are affected. We suspect an eldeer attack, but we’re waiting for confirmation.” The pony hesitated a moment then added: “We also received signals indicating that a ship is coming into the system. A big ship… Hostile.”

The rainbow-maned pegasus frowned. Then regained her calm.

“Okay soldiers, listen up. I want this whole planet on alert and I want to know exactly what we face as soon as possible.” She turned toward her communicator. “You! I want you to contact my sisters. Tell them I need to see them as soon as possible.”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” the pony answered, already opening the communication link.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side, Dash,” a sarcastic, familiar voice muttered.

There was only one pony who dared be that familiar with her: Ivory Meteor. It was a privilege he had gained through constant efforts. Despite the handicap of being an earth pony, he had defied all the odds, he had climbed the echelons faster than anypony in Rainbow Dash’s knowledge. He had bested every pegasus in Cloudsdale, save for the warmare herself and, by doing so, earned his place as her second and her friendship.

He was also the only pony daring enough to try to flirt with her. “Also, if you could tell me how to get on your bedside…”

“Colonel, you’re in charge while I’m gone. Do not disappoint me.”

She had ignored the attempt and still sounded angry, but Ivory knew that excitement would quickly take over the spacemare’s mind. He also had the absolute conviction that she couldn’t stay mad at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Dash,” he answered with a smile.

“I know what you dream of and it’s not pretty,” she joked, almost despite herself.

“Except when I dream of you,” he countered.

This time, it worked. Her signature, confident smile was back again on her face and the tension in the room went down to a more acceptable level. “Try not to be too lame, Ivory,” she said as she jumped off the platform.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Part I - Chapter 06 - Voices, screams and sacrifices

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PV-01 orbit
Planetary defence vessel Dusk of Hope

It ran. Or, rather, it fumbled at very high speed on its way too numerous limbs. It fumbled inside corridors and through closed doors.

Reality had ceased to make sense. Was it even able to understand the brand of reality surrounding it anymore? The constricting walls of the ship had lost part of their substance, leaving room for things that were not from the right side of sanity. The world was now filled with distorted faces, glaring at it with bright, blank eyes, forever lost and wandering; with gusts of non-existent wind, that would incessantly caress its fur and the skin beneath, drawing a crawl that sank into its flesh; with blood, forever spilled from some unknown wound in the fabric of reality, overloading its heightened smell...

But most of all, it was filled with the voices.

At first, memories would help the creature out of this madness. Memories of another life. Now, those were no more than incoherent screams, insufferable white noise for a corrupted brain.

But those didn’t count. No, there were only prey and the objectives. Those mattered. Everything else was just filled with the voices. Meaningless.

The creature ran faster, looking for more preys, hoping that soldiers would somehow try to catch it, praying for more blood to spill. Gods, it would even turn back on its hooves and claws – oh! if only it could somehow kill the ponies it had already slain. Turn time back so it could kill the ponies, kill reality, kill time, kill everything until the voices lay dead as well.

But they never shut up. It screamed and ran and thrashed around but they only quieted when it killed. So it killed. And they dulled. And they came back. Again and again and again and again and again and again...

No escape. Can’t run from the voices. Always here. Always find you. Never stop.

“Running from me, Scream?” one-of-the-voices whispered.

“Quiet!”

“Oh sorry... do I bother you?” that-particular-voice continued.

“Shut... up!”

Somewhere in the distance, another voice screamed. That voice always screamed.

“I feel like I’m bothering you.”

“SHUT. UP!”

“If I’m bothering you, you just have to say it.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

The voice chuckled. “Make me!”

“Pox!”

Another voice shouted its devotion to the ruinous powers. That one was the least bad.

Pox’s chuckle became a heartfelt laugh. It was an impossible sound, a nerve-grating, arhythmic noise that echoed in her skull. “What will you do, Scream? If I don’t shut up, you’ll exert your oh frightening wrath on poor little old me? But guess what? YOU CAN’T!”

“SHUT UP!”

“Face it Death Scream! You’re trapped with me for as long as it pleases me, and oh by the Nine Heads of Nurgle, do I love it!”

“STOP! GODS! SHUT UP!”

“Call them as much as you want, Scream. I. Am. Not. Leaving. You will suffer my presence and I will enjoy every second of it.”

The creature that had been Death Scream shrieked. And the voice of Smallpox laughed.

☀☀☀

Rolling Die was caught in a loop.

Send a message to the vessels via the emergency communicator. Wait the authorised time. Check on the augur. Wait some more. Get no answers. Signal it to the room. Back to the beginning.

Her duties had never left much room for initiative nor change, but this level of monotony was utterly ludicrous. Yet she repeated the set of instructions. It somehow managed to keep her distracted from the reality outside of the screens. The familiar buzzing of the command deck was becoming alien to her. Something akin to despair and anger was spoiling it. She hated it. So she focused on her task, not unlike the lobotomised ponies around her. Do steps one to six. Loop to step one. Repeat. The mare clenched her teeth as she launched yet another scan.

She wanted to scream. “This is pointless! Are we supposed to keep up until it comes here and slaughter us?” But she stayed silent. Instead, she started another loop.

She sent a quick glance at the captain. He was the only reason she still felt sane. Typhoon Snivel was watching over them, and the Empress over him. He looked as calm and resolute as ever. A rock even in the midst of a tempest. His red, artificial lenses pierced the room, checking each and every pony, assessing their work... Just as usual. His flask was back at his at his side, untouched. Everything was going to be okay. Everything was okay.

The unicorn’s eyes locked with hers and she realised she had forgotten about her routine. She didn’t waver though. She peered into the augmentics, looking for a sign. Anything. Anything at all.

“Is something the matter, Operator?”

If the eyes were the windows of the soul, the optics were foggy, tinted ones at best. But one thing shone through them. Unwavering resolve. “No– nothing.” She snapped back to her task. “Nothing, sir. Still no answer.”

Everything was going to be okay. She had to believe that.

“How much time do we have until it reaches the bridge?” Typhoon asked the closest servitor.

“Estimations give us between thirty-one and one hundred and seventy-one minutes, sir,” the pony recited in its monocord, robotic, voice.

“Where is it now?”

“Energy readings: two-hundred meters from the sector D13, Warp-Drives. Fifty-two metres margin of error. Sound screenings: one-hundred and eighty four metres from the sector D13, Warp-Drives. Fourteen metres margin of error. Vibration sensors...”

Typhoon Snivel ignored the rest of the servitor’s listing.

Locking the ship had worked… for a time. The thing – whatever it was or had been – had been trapped at first. Or at least, considerably slowed. But then something happened to it. Something changed the creature somehow. Its screams had filled the vox for hours and when they stopped… it was not bothered by the walls anymore. It simply went through them, butchering anypony in its way.

It had gone through the communication centre – and done massive damages in the process – and was now heading to the Warp-Engines. Typhoon Snivel didn’t know why and he didn’t care. He had to find a way to stop the creature before it decided to come here, for he was sure the bridge was its final stop.

The captain kept a stoic face, a façade for his subaltern, but internally, he was grasping at straws. The situation was spiralling out of control faster than he could think countermeasures.

I have to find a way out of this mess. He resisted the urge to drink more of his flask. He had enough of the foul brew for a lifetime. I have to find a way. There is always a way. That was something he had learned. There was always a way. What stopped most ponies from seeing it was the price to pay to reach it. To win required sacrifices. His metallic legs were a testament to this.

He had to find the way out, even if it meant sacrificing the very ship he stood in. He had to put everything on the line. There was something big at play here, something bigger than a monster roaming the bowels of the Dusk. He had to stop it.

He checked on his crew with a neutral face, while gauging the value of their life as well as his. Somehow, he doubted that even the thousands of ponies present would suffice. The creature would massacre them all. The small hallways would become its playground and the bigger rooms would just give it more opportunities to wreak havoc on the ship.

He had to see bigger. There was only one thing he could put on the line.

“Sir. It’s about to reach the Warp-Drive.”

There was an ominous moment of silence. All faces were turned toward him. He spoke slowly, with a calm that didn’t reflect his current state of mind. “Gather all the troops and all the servitors we can afford to lose to the Sector D12, D11, E13 and C13. I want all the surrounding areas on lockdown at my signal. Anypony still in these areas at that point will be treated as part of the enemy force.” The unicorn took a deep breath. “We will have only one shot at this, may the Empress protect us all.”

All the ponies present acknowledged and relayed his orders. Relief and excitement had momentarily overrode fear.

There was no turning back.

☽☾

It could feel the the Warp-Engines before it would see them.

Even dormant, their low, rhythmic growls echoed hundreds of metres in the distance, like the snoring of some gigantic beasts. As one would get closer, they would smell the thick odour of the sacred oils used by the Marechanicum to anoint, bless and maintain the holy machines and the spirit that inhabited them. But those were nothing compared to the sight. Pillars, so high their summit had to be guessed rather than seen, vibrated in the air, making it dense, filled with a low unequine note. They would sometimes discharge in the air, spewing lightning and hot plasma on another pillar.

This was beautiful and humbling, if a mortal eye could stand such a fiery display. Ponykind had grasped the galaxy thanks to these machineries. In return they screamed their pride with an overloading nonchalance.

The creature didn’t care.

None of that had any kind of importance. It wasn’t paying attention to the noise, the rumble nor the lightning. Even the servitors around it barely managed to catch its attention. The abomination killed them by reflex more than intent. None of those things mattered for it felt none of them. The madness around her had left place to something else. There was no blood, no faces and no voices. Only the thousand-sun light of the room. It-that-had-changed stumbled inside, a sudden weakness invading its body.

The memory-screams were more focused now. They were almost understandable.

It-she had to be here. It-she had to bring something here. Something that pulsed inside it-her, filled its-her body with unholy vigour. It-Death-Scream approached the closest pillar and felt the influence of the Warp pour out of its-her body toward the engines.

The promise of freedom put an ugly smile on its-her deformed head.

☀☀☀

Walking in the lonely corridors leading to her new room, newly promoted Sergeant Starry Glow damned her bad luck. First they were boarded by some damn abomination, then Sergeant Hard Diamond, Lance Steel, Wintersong and Onyx Sky died. Making her the troop leader by default.

What luck! she thought bitterly.

There was nothing she could do about it. Only take the title, obey orders and hope not to die like her peers.

“Stupid Hard Diamond and his principles. ‘Everypony should do their share! I will go as any of you!’ ” she said, mimicking her dead officer. “Great job, chief! Now you’re dead! Onyx is dead! Song is dead! Half the squad is dead!” She felt like crying. Again. “Stupid idealist fool... Now what? I’m nothing like you! I’m nothing like the four of you! Even Lance was better than me! And now I’m supposed to do your job better than you? The four of you? And survive?”

There was a pause in the rant as the pegasus finally reached her destination. It was just as she remembered it. Clean and tidy, just like Hard Diamond’s mind. A small desk resided in the centre of the room, some files carefully disposed on it. Apart from that were a small bed, a mirror and four boxes. She ignored them. She could guess their content and she was in no hurry to verify her hypothesis. She instead went closer to the mirror, checking her reflection. She put a hoof on it, as to comfort the midnight-blue pegasus in front of her. She let her head touch the glass, creating a wall of white hair between her and the desperate-looking mare in the mirror.

“You have to protect the vessel...” she chastised herself. “You have to be good enough to protect the vessel. There’s more than your life at stake here...”

The mare took a deep breath to calm her mind. She might face the Empress’s judgement soon, so she’d better do her best and maybe, just maybe, her bravery would turn the mind-eye of the Empress on her.

One can dream.

The moody pegasus finally reached for the boxes, finding the personal belongings of her predecessors. There was not much. Some personalised pieces of equipment, decorations – a few – and trinkets of personal importance – even fewer. Their whole life was now summarized here. Starry Glow dodged the morbid train of thoughts before it got to her.

After all, she had a more important matter at hoof. There was no time for sentimentality – she was the leader of her troop now, and she would need to play that part. It was the only way she could still honor their memory.

And to play the part, she had to look the part. The first box contained Hard Diamond’s armour, but that was no use. He was a bulky earth pony, and she was a short and stocky pegasus. Even if her wings would have been enough to fill out the armour, she never would have tried; tethering them would only make her feel claustrophobic, which was not something she needed. Onyx Sky was the same story, as he was a similar build to Hard Diamond. Wintersong’s armour wasn’t even worth considering; the slim unicorn was simply not a viable alternative.

All of which left her with only one option. It was lucky that Lance Steel was also a pegasus, and a similar enough build to Starry Glow that his armour would be wearable. It didn’t fit very well. It was slightly too loose and she could feel the extra space around the wing openings. The boots were one size too small and his weapon felt way too heavy... But still, it would fit well enough, and the craftsponyship was noticeably better than her old gear.

Starry Glow examined her reflection, which was also wearing her new uniform. She looked good from the outside. She looked like a sergeant. Even if this helmet felt too tight. Even if the boots rubbed uncomfortably. Even if it was meant to be another pony in this armour. A more worthy pony. A pony who would feel every bit like the leader that they saw in the mirror. A pony who wasn’t in over their head, a pony like Hard Diamond, or Onyx Sky, or Wintersong, or Lance Steel.

Starry Glow bowed her head so she wouldn’t have to see her reflection any longer. She took a deep breath and chastised herself.

Sergeants did not cry.

The door leading to the troops’ quarters – her troops’ quarter – had never seemed so imposing to Starry Glow. She waited a minute before opening, trying to calm her nerves, trying to silence her inner doubts.

What was behind the door was even worse. For a fateful second, she considered fleeing, running as far away as possible. But her body kept moving forward and the thought subsided, replaced by crushing doubts and the weight of responsibility.

There were forty ponies in the room. She only knew half of them. The other half were whatever remained of other squads, mixed and added to hers to complete the ranks. Everypony here had lost a comrade, a lover, a rival… and their leaders. And now they were stuck with each other… with her. She expected them to resent her, but they didn’t even have the strength to do it. They just looked defeated. Utterly defeated. But that was not the worst part. The worst part was that stare. That hopeful, expecting stare. That look on their faces, asking her, begging her to give them hope, a goal, anything to keep going.

Sergeant...did you have to face that every time we had to fight? I can’t do this...

She faced their stare, trying to look as brave and resolute as possible. It was her job now. She had to put a brave face and make believe. She had to inspire them, even if she didn’t believe in it herself.

“Your attention, fillies and colts.” The feeling of dread only worsened as all everypony reacted to her words. Their expectations washed over her, overwhelming her. All she could do was try to emulate the example her predecessors, but it sounded fake even to her own ears. “You know the orders, but I’ll repeat them anyway. Our mission is to locate the creature. If we’re the ones who find it, we have to engage it and to lure it to the prepared location. Then it’s straight to fall back position. We do it good, we do it fast and we all can brag about it later. Kinda like your sex life.”

She had added the last sentence in her breath, not really willing to share the jest with anypony else. To her surprise, the front row started to laugh. It spread rapidly to the whole assembly. It was not much. Small chuckles and half smirks, but it didn’t matter to Starry Glow. The tension was not gone… but it was bearable now.

Stars... This worked? Maybe I can do it… Maybe we can do it.

The mare looked at the mares and stallions in front of them. They looked more determined now. So was she.

“Soldiers. Time to go.”

☽☾

Existence was changing around around Death Scream. It was turning back. The world was slowly making sense again. Sometimes flashes of otherworldly insanity tointed it, like a dark night illuminated by a passing thunderstorm, but it was fainter and fainter.

She was still unsure about what happened. Death Scream had been a spacemare for centuries. In this lapse of time, she had witnessed unfathomable atrocities. She had inflicted her fair share of them in the name of the Gods. She thought she was jaded. She had been shown how little she’d known. She had no wish to dig further into the matter. She didn’t even want to think about it...

The voices were gone...

That’s all that mattered.

☀☀☀

Starry Glow was watching the creature with horror and fascination. It was the stuff of nightmares. The invader was an hideous parody of equinehood. It was twice as big as a pony and as wide as it was tall. Appendages and tentacles of various form and size lifelessly sagged from its body which in turn sat on – six? seven? ten? – way too many legs. This repulsive picture was completed by several little heads resting on elongated necks, akin to tentacles, weakly hovering around the main one. Like an obsequious council whispering advice to their ruler.

However, the most worrying part was not what it was but what is was doing. Strange tendrils of energy flew from the creature to the machinery, infecting it, altering it in some nefarious ways. And it was spreading somehow. Each time the generator discharged, it pulsed with the same miasma the creature was pouring into it.

What luck… Why did it have to be us!

Of all the groups sent looking for it – seven full squads – hers had been the one picked by fate. Starry Glow thought that the odds would somehow tip in her favour for once, but this was, obviously, not her day. Her squad would be the brave “volunteers” who would engage and bait the creature.

Her hoof gripped her weapon a little tighter. It had not noticed them yet; it seemed too busy with its task to notice them.

At least, there’s that.

Everypony was in position. Taking advantage of the cover the room provided. Starry took a quick glance at them

“Wait for my signal,” she ordered with a gesture of her hoof.

☾☀☽

Death Scream was getting close to her release. The energy that had accumulated in her was withering. She could even feel her body weaken and quake as the unholy powers that sustained her new, deformed, metabolism faded. Many questions came to her mind – what was wrong with her body? What had the Sorcerer done to her? Had this been the plan all along? – but she just ignored them as they popped up. It didn’t matter right now. A few more seconds now and she would be free.

Soon...

Another discharge of plasma illuminated the room as if to celebrate her liberation. The abomination got on her hindlimbs and lashed out, screaming, in joy this time, and flaying her many legs in the air.

Death Scream felt the burns with an almost comical surprise. Starry Glow didn’t fare much better.

Lasweapons were quiet weapons. Yet the shots silenced the room.

Both creature and sergeant turned at the same time, glaring at the same pony with the same incredulity. Starry Glow was not even sure the pony in question was the only one who shot. The only thing pointing to her was her weapon, resting uselessly at her hooves.

The small, trembling pegasus was watching the beast with fright.

What have you done? the officer wondered. Why did you shoot? What have you fucking done? So many things went through her mind, begging to be screamed at the mare. Insults, reproaches, questions, orders… but the only thing coming out was the same, bewildered question, again and again: “What have you done?”

It-Death-Scream was experiencing a whole different palette of emotions. Fury rose inside her as she felt the promise of deliverance slipping out of her hoof. Each of her heartbeat echoed in her head, carrying more strength, more corruption in her body.

Reality crashed down around her, the world broke and melted, turning into something else, something alien and familiar, something frightfully friendly. Something bright and dark at the same time. Inside her, something snapped and snapped again, breaking in millions of pieces then shattering some more. She could feel the Aether flow in her once again, alimented by its rage, which in turn made it even more angry. The taste of her denied freedom was still lingering on its tongue. It tasted like ash and broken promises.

“Hello, Death Scream,” a familiar voice mocked. “Did you miss me?”

It-that-rages shrieked.

The unequine sound hit the troop like a shock wave, shattering cohesion and discipline.

Starry Glow didn’t realise she was running. Not before she heard the sound of crushed bones and torn flesh. They were all fleeing. She could not see them, but she could feel them. A scream echoed behind her. The beast was closing on them. It was closing on her. The pegasus ran. Her wings were glued on her back. So she ran. Her lungs were filled with fire, her muscles with molten lead and her fur with warm sweat. But she and her troop ran. For stopping meant death. So they fled through corridors and narrow halls.

And the creature picked them. One. By. One. And every time a pony screamed in agony, she wondered if she was next.

The abomination ran, its disproportionate and deformed body barely fitting in the corridors. Small creatures ran in front of it. Somehow, their existence was an offence to it. Their screams, their disgusting smell of fear polluting the air... It had to erase them from existence. Maybe this sacrifice would appease the voices?

It-that-rages caught an ant-pony with a barbed tendril. The limb sank deep in the meat, crushing the muscles beneath. The ant-pony whelped in surprise as pain flooded their nervous system. More tentacles, hooves and claws, talons and paws, limbs of every sorts grabbed. The ant-pony squirmed against the grip, only making it stronger. Flesh and bones started to break and blood leaked through every orifice it could find. Blood egressed through the tight grip. A smile grew on the creature’s heads. There was a wet muted sound as the clench tightened tenfold. Pulp, flesh and broken bones rained on the creature.

“Feel... good.” The thought-scream emerged somewhere in the consciousness of the beast. “Again.”

Starry Glow had lost track of time. Her desperate escape was punctuated by the loud pounding of her heart and the audible death of her soldiers. The only thing that mattered now was to arrive at one of the rendezvous point. She couldn’t be far!

There was a turn. And a pony died.

There was another turn. And another pony died.

Two other ponies died in the long corridor that followed. Starry Glow’s heart was about to burst.

There was another turn... and she was there.

She almost fell. Relief almost overriding her of her surviving instinct. Almost. She kept going. Her body pleaded for her to stop, but she continued. Dozens of servitors flooded the place and opened the way above her and closed right after she passed. Her prize was at hoof, right behind the corner, only a dozen metres left. The creature was getting close. She could hear the new slaughter starting right behind her. The mutant rage seemed fuelled by new victims, rather than appeased. Starry Glow dragged her body along the wall, her body heavier by the second. It took her an eternity to reach to passage, and two more to get passed it, but she did.

The wall shut behind her. There was no more sound. The mare kept going, shuffling in the empty corridors. She had to reorganise the troops. She had to talk to them, compliment them, encourage them somehow, to boast, to joke, to mourn, anything…

She turned toward her ponies.

But there was nopony else.

Sergeant Starry Glow was the only surviving member of Hard Diamond’s squad.

At long last, the pegasus cried.
.

☀☀☀

Typhoon Snivel listened to the vox with undivided attention. He listened to ponies dying in the line of duty. He didn’t shy away from the graphic imagery these small bits of communication evoked. It was the least he could do to honour the sacrifice he asked of them.

Despite a few hiccups, the first part of his plan had worked. The creature was so engrossed with its massacres that it wouldn’t even stop to think. The captain had already managed to make it follow a closed circuit, giving him and the crew more than enough time to evacuate the perimeter. Now was the moment to end this.

“Start phase two,” he ordered.

Everypony obeyed without asking questions.

Empress protect us.

☽☾

The abomination ran in the corridors, going from a senseless bloodbath to another. The ants-ponies were barely a challenge but it didn’t matter. It had to kill. To soothe the voices. So mindless ants-ponies died. Small packs of them, erring every few hundred metres. And it would kill them and run to the next pack. But it was not enough. Not anymore. It didn’t calm the voice. It didn’t mute the voice.

Pox snickered and cackled every time it-that-kills ended a life. At first, it had annoyed the creature. But now, it intrigued her. “Why laugh?”

Pox burst into an even bigger fit of laughter. “Why I laugh? Look at you! Why wouldn’t I laugh?” She guffawed again. “I can’t believe it! This is what remain of the great and fearsome Death Scream! A stupid and senseless beast!”

“Not stupid. I kill.”

“You... you still haven’t realised haven’t you?” The voice seemed genuinely baffled. “You still haven’t even realised. By the Gods, you’re such an idiot…” It-that-hesitates felt its body being pulled forward. “Come, stupid beast... let me show you.”

Maybe it was surprise, or curiosity, but it didn't resist. The voice dragged it inside the vessel walls. So lost it had been in its frenzy that it had forgotten that adamantium panels were no barrier for it. It didn’t have to walk long. The place was not far. It could feel it before it saw it. Even corrupted, the Warp-Drives still roared. The Chaos-distorted brain clicked discordantly. It had been lured. Like a mere ant-pony.

“No! Nonono! Death scream!” the voice sneered. “Ponies have brains. Simple, archaic brains, but still brains. You’re even less than that! They played you! You’re even less than them! You’re a stupid beast! Nothing more!”

For the first time since its transformation, anger didn’t make it lash out. Its rage was focused. It coalesce around an idea, an emerging mind-scream, a memory from a distant past. The captain had to die. It wasn’t sure what a “captain” was but it didn’t care; it had to find him and kill him.

☀☀☀

The plan was bold – a nice euphemism – but it was clever and efficient, and Rolling Die had faith in Typhoon Snivel.

The first part, the first stroke of genius, had been to create a distraction for the beast. They had lured it into a place where it would run in circle, butchering mindless drones scattered around to occupy her. In comparison, the second part was way easier. They would set the Warp-Drive and all the surrounding areas on fire, immolating the creature.

It was a crazy plan.

But to trap and end a creature able to go through walls and an insatiable hunger for ponies flesh, one had to go with a little part of craziness and everypony had approved of the plan. That was the only plan they had after all, and at the end of it, most of them would be alive to talk about it.

Out of all the members of the bridge still equipped with a brain, Rolling Die had been the one “randomly” chosen to prepare the last part of the plan. She didn’t mind. She wanted to carry Typhoon Snivel orders. Furthermore it was an easy task. Directing serfs was repetitive at worst but in no way as boring as her previous, tedious work on the augur. All she had to do was to collect enough promethium to put a reasonable part of the ship on fire.

Yeah. This is crazy.

Her communicator came alive, breaking her daydreaming.

“Operator!” Typhoon Snivel’s worried tone pierced through the distortion with ease, immediately putting the mare on edge.

“Rolling Die, report–”

“No time for that!” he interrupted abruptly. “Are you done yet?”

“Wha– Sir! We just started! We barely have enough to light the way for the creature!”

“Moon it!”

Years in his service. She had never heard him swear.

“Sir? What’s wrong?”

“The plan is a bust. The creature is heading to the bridge. It will be there in less than twelve minutes.”

“Sir, you need to evacuate!”

“Then what? We need to get rid of it or we’re just delaying the inevitable” The unicorn took a deep breath. His voice became distance for a second as he ordered drone to put him through a more general channel. “The situation has changed,” he explained to the ship’s officers. “The creature is rushing to the bridge. We need to find a solution. Ten minutes ago would be great.”

New voices came live in the channel, giving birth to a heated debate. They were probably devising a new plan of action. She wasn’t really following it, in fact she was barely aware of it. The operator’s mind was elsewhere completely. It was racing at a fevered pace on uncharted territories. An idea was emerging inside it, a horrible yet effective idea.

“We should eject it from the ship...”

The sudden silence made her realise she’d vocalised her thought. The operator bit her lips, hoping they wouldn’t pry and continue.

“Do you have a plan, officer?” The voice of the Captain was calm again. It was one of the many things she admired in him, but this time, it brought no comfort. Quite the opposite in fact.

“No! Huh... It’s a stupid idea, sir. Forget I said anything.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a stupid idea, sir,” she repeated. Please, don’t force me to repeat...

“Tell me.”

“Sir... I can’t...”

“Operator Rolling Die. Tell me. That’s an order.”

“We could sent it back to space...”

“Go on.”

“By piercing a hole in the hull.”

There was no laughter nor scream of outrage as she thought there would be. Only another silence.

“This is ridiculous,” somepony said. “We–“

“This could work,” the Captain interrupted. Rolling Die was regretting her mere existence now.

“Sir?” another pony asked.

“This could work. That’s the most practical idea we have so far. We only need a weapon capable of breaching it.”

No sense in stopping now, she thought bitterly. “We... could throw one of the evacuation ship...” the operator suggested.

“Excellent thinking, Operator.”

“With all due respect, sir, I feel anything but clever right now,” she muttered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly. “We will follow Rolling Die’s suggestion. But that’s not enough. Start the evacuation of the ship. I want everypony out as soon as possible.”

“What about you, sir?” somepony asked, as if the answer was not already obvious.

“I will stay.”

“Sir–”

“Time is short, I suggest you listen. I want this ship on collision course with the Crusader. Push the engines to their limits. I don’t care about the damages it may cause, I want to go as fast as possible.”

“Sir, the machine-spirit–”

“Stop interrupting me. Whether or not we succeed in getting rid of the beast, we won’t have a bridge anymore. The ship will be lost. We must at least deprive the enemy from their victory! So do as I say and do it quick!” There were no more interruptions. “You all know what you’re supposed to do. May the Empress be with us. Snivel out.”

☽☾

The creature was hesitant.

This was new. It was like an unscratchable itch inside its head. An urge to do something that it could not. Even the voices were silent. Even the-voice-that-mocks. It was breathing heavily in a corner of its head, its endless babble stuck in its throat.

Things had changed somehow. The ship had started moving. The doors had been open for it. This did not matter at all, yet it showed that something had changed. The insufferable itch became more insistent.

The voxes buzzed. It was a soft noise. Like a persistent bug, nagging the edge of what could count as the beast consciousness. But it soothed the itch. So the creature stopped, and listened. The message didn’t come through immediately. After several seconds (minutes? hours?) it started to get agitated again, but its patience – or rather, lack of impatience – finally paid off.

The voice was calm and noble.The voice of somepony whose orders were instantly obeyed. It had already heard voices like that. It hated them. Voices like that made it be here. Anger rose again. And the voices grew in strength with it.

“Creature.” The voxex in their infuriating voice. “I am Typhoon Snivel. I am the captain of this vessel, which you boarded, sabotaged and which crew you–” kill! maim! “–You are an enemy of the Imperium and as such it is my duty to eliminate you. But as captain of the Dusk of Hope, it will be my–” pain!

It snarled madly.

In the distance, several door opened soundly. “Come–” YES! HE COMES! SOON! “–Come creature. Come face your punishment.”

It-that-hates ran.

“It’s a trap and you’re a moron, Scream,” stated the-voice-that-taunts.

☀☀☀

One hundred and three vessels fled the Dusk of Hope. One hundred and one flew in tight formation, descending to the planet their flagship was supervising. Only two stuck with the frigate. The first one was sent in a collision course with the bridge, in a mad attempt at sending a warp-abomination into the void. The second simply gravitated next to the ship as a silent observer of its demise.

A few dozen of ponies were packed inside. Most of them were trying to enjoy their survival and to forget about the horrors of the previous hours. The rest were watching.

There were no watching bays on the ship, only a few ridiculously small lucarnes scattered at the front of the ship. For that purpose, they were inconvenient and impractical, but they were all they had, so they watched. Rolling Die was among them.

She observed the Dusk of Hope. It had been her home for so long she had almost forgot what it was. Now, with the frigate revealed once more in its whole glory, she felt like she took it for granted... and the exact opposite. When she was inside, it felt like her whole world. It was her whole world. Now, as the ship drifted in the distance, she found hard to believe so. In all her immensity, in all her grandeur, with her tarnished adamantium plates, her frightful armament, her powerful plasma thrusters... she was just a small frigate drifting in the void, only maintained alive by remnants of her crew. And that ship was now on collision course with another equally small frigate.

The Dusk, her home, was now a dying husk sent to die in a suicide mission, and she was partly responsible for it.

The small escaping ship cruising out of formation was now almost unrecognisable. Yet she knew well where it was going. Rolling Die felt no comfort with the presence of the crew watching the same spectacle as her. From the moment she had programmed the servitors, she was alone.

She alone had to bear the guilt.

☀☀☀

Snivel and the creature were facing each other. Eighty metres of corridors separated them now. They both looked at each other, both unimpressed and scornful. The time for a long due reckoning was a mere seconds away.

The creature started its awkward lunge aiming for its prey...

At the other side, the officer drew his plasma pistol. It was a beautiful weapon, given for his services by the Marechanicum. His hoof grabbed the handle firmly, while his magic stabilised the weapon. Just like training… after all these years... With a soft buzz, the weapon shot. Super heated matter flew toward...

The creature ran, appendages ready to strike. Something hot crashed on them. Pain came and went, but the rage subsisted. Half the distance had already been covered. Another shot came crashing into it, cutting a tentacle. It snarled and kept running. Soon it would be able to catch...

Captain Typhoon Snivel kept shooting at the beast, a quiet resignation invading his body. He hoped they could have done it in time, but...

There had been no signs. No sound. It just happened. One moment the creature was running. The next everything was crashing around It. Gravity ceased instantly. Instead, it felt a violent pull from above. Cuts and burns and shock pummelled the deformed body. It could not react nor understand. The last thing it saw before space claimed it for good was...

A golden halo surrounded the unicorn and a satisfied smile flourished on his muzzle. He was not one to bask into his own accomplishment, especially with such a heavy cost, but there was something pleasing about dragging the creature along the path he had chosen. This was the kind of revenge he could enjoy.

He looked around him. The place was in ruin. There had been way less destructions than he’d thought, but the command bridge was gone. Most of the servitors were gone, either destroyed by debris or sent through space. The only “survivors” fumbled around, trying to activate broken pieces of equipment or simply froze, unable to adapt to the situation, their program trapped between contradictory commands. Most of them would die soon anyway, as the temperature or the oxygen level became too low to sustain them.

Typhoon was luckier. He had his magic to support him. He would die with his ship. As any good captain should.

He absent-mindedly detached the prosthesis out of his body. It was an odd thing to see the bionics broken. This time, he felt no pain nor sense of loss. They were just... broken pieces of metal trapped under some rumble. Two ethereal limbs appeared in their stead. It had been years since he had not used this spell. Somehow, it felt better.

Captain Typhoon Snivel took his rightful place on the bridge. For once, he indulged himself on the captain throne. Captain Typhoon Snivel would die soon. But he didn’t care. He had done his job. And where he was going, there was no coffee.

☽☾

In the endless void, a creature drifted away.

The lack or air, the void and freezing cold were barely enough to hinder its supernatural regeneration. The creature was alive and trapped in a prison made of nothing. But the void was not the worst thing. The void was silent.

“OH GODS IT BURNS!”
“Well, well, well. Once again you prove your stupidity, Scream...”
“He’s coming. Oh yes he’s coming.”

It-that-drifts said nothing.

“KILL! MAIM! KILL!”
“Well maybe after a century or two you will start to show signs of intelligence.”
“AAAAAAAAAH!”

It stayed silent.

“GODS! MAKE IT STOP!”
“After all, we will likely spend a long, long time together.”
“SKULLS! FOR THE SKULLS THRONE!”

In the endless void, it-that-suffers tried to scream. But in the endless void, there is no air to scream.

☀☀☀

Rolling Die struggled with the communicator, failing to do what she had been trained to do even in her sleep. She very vocally blamed the primitive device for her difficulties, but she was secretly grateful for it. The activity kept her brain from assessing the recent turn of events. Digits and codes didn’t judge.

At least she was alone now.

The face of her captain appeared on the screen, distorted and blurry.

A pang of guilt stung her as she saw how tried he looked. Captain Typhoon Snivel had visibly been through Tartarus. His magic covered his whole body, protecting him from the cold and the lack of pressure and oxygen. His uniform was torn in several places, revealing deep cuts in his maroon fur, sometimes sinking in its flesh. Half dried blood had dripped from a cut on his face and his bionic legs were gone, replaced by the golden aura of his magic. Sat tiredly on his throne, he looked as if he had to carry the ship on his back. Yet his augmented eyes were as sharp as ever. They seemed to pierce even the static to reach her soul. Despite the situation, he was still the proud, calm stallion that had led the Dusk of Hope and three vessels before toward victories against impossible odds. It made her proud. Then guilty again.

“Hello, sir…”

Typhoon Snivel had not expected any transmission. He even had a hard time believing the communication systems were still working. He had imagined his death lonely, accompanied by the soft buzz of the last servitors around him. As dutiful as they were, their conversation skills were pretty lacking. It took him a second to react to the attempt of communication. A few more to remember that he had no operator to take it for him and to do the job by himself. The holodeck shimmered to life. Several moments passed before the connection was established and a familiar face appeared on the screen.

The unicorn had wondered who would have contacted him. All things considered, seeing his operator appear on the screen didn’t surprise him much. It was oddly fitting that it would be her. “Hello, Operator,” he let out tiredly.

For an moment, there were no words. The situation was unfamiliar. There was no order to be given or received. There were in fact, no captain nor operator. Only Typhoon Snivel and Rolling Die. It was somehow pleasing to the unicorn. It was his last moments; there were worst ways to spend them. So Typhoon Snivel watched the mare. For once returning the attentive glare she’d send him when she thought he would not pay attention.

She was rather small – a common thing for pegasi spending their life in artificial gravity. Her basic military training had given her enough muscles to make her look stocky rather than sickly. Her short grass-green mane was messy. Maybe messier than usual, he noted. Black spots – of promethium he guessed – riddled her uniform, wings and coat which accentuated her ragged and exhausted look. But all of these were expectable. The resignation in her eyes was not.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Rolling Die?”

The pegasus became stiff at the mention of her name. She looked for accusation in it, in the tone. She was surprised to find none.

“I came to... I mean...” The words failed her. It was even harder than in her head.

“I don’t mind waiting for you to find your words,” he laughed softly, “but I don’t think the Dusk will be be very compliant in this.”

“Sorry, sir!” The unicorn laughed quietly, causing more confusion to the pegasus. She took a deep breath and finally spoke. “I came to apologize, sir.”

“Apologize? What for?”

“I trapped you here, Captain...”

Typhoon Snivel stayed silent. Yes. It would make sense the she’d believe that.

“The Imperium will lose a hero today, sir... And I cannot help but feel responsible... sir.”

“Yes the Imperium may have lost that today...” he whispered pensively. He observed his pitiful-looking operator. Typhoon Snivel was not soft with his crew. He knew them as his own foals, knew all their strengths and flaws and treated them fairly. But he stayed distant. He never closed the gap for he feared exactly that. That feelings and regrets may one day come in opposition to duty. Maybe there was a lesson to teach before he died. “Yet I do believe that it didn’t lose all his brilliant contributors.”

“Sir?”

“There were more than a thousand souls on the Dusk of Hope. Today, your contribution helped saving most of them. Maybe I could have done it without you raising the alarm for an insignificant surge in the shields. Maybe I could have been able to send the abomination in space on my own. But I was not on my own. You made it possible for me to react fast and efficiently. Just as intended.”

“Sir, I–”

“And it all came at the cost of a hoofful of lives.”

“But–”

“And that’s not event taking into account PV-01. Nor the countless souls we may have saved. Thanks to these sacrifices.”

Silence again. The message was starting to get to her, but the officer was not quite finished yet.

“Beside. You didn’t condemn me. I never intended to leave the ship to begin with.”

“What? Why?”

The officer smiled, his face merely choosing a pose rather than expressing a feeling. Because that was my duty and the oath I swore when I accepted the captainship of the Dusk. He almost told her. But he didn’t; he wanted his death to mean something to her. “We had to face a coordinated attack, where the enemy had the means to send monsters at the heart of our ships. They sabotaged our Warp-Drive and as far as we know, they did the same to the Crusader, the Barrier and the Retribution. Worst, we may be the only ship still able to function. It’s safe to say all four of us have fallen... We were simply outmached.” His voice drifted off for a second. Typhoon caught himself before his weakness showed too obviously. Maintaining the spell and talking to the pegasus was taking a greater toll on his body than he thought… But he had to keep up and look strong while doing so.

“This was a fight we could not win,” he continued, matter-of-factly. “But that doesn’t mean we had to let the enemy win either. They apparently wanted the ships intact, or else they’d have destroyed them.”

Rolling Die finally caught up his meaning. “So ramming the Crusader is a good way to get rid of half their prize... before they could react...”

Typhoon Snivel smiled and nodded. “I could have sent the Dusk on the Tartarus and left the ship. Why do you think I didn’t?”

Rolling Die thought about it a second. The answer came up pretty quickly.

“Because there’s a chance they could send another creature...”

“See? You get it.”

“But–”

“No buts, Rolling Die. If I had had more time or knew exactly what we were facing, I could have thought of something else, but it was not the case. I did my best. We all did.”

She pondered upon it for a few seconds before answering. There was more strength behind the words this time. “Yes, sir.”

Silence grew thick again. This time however, it carried no shame nor awkwardness. It was the comfortable silent born from a discussion where everything important had been successfully conveyed.

“Sir?” Rolling Die asked, finally breaking the lull. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.” The tone was serious, the smirk on his face was not.

“Sorry...”

“You already used your quota of sorries for this discussion, Die,” he jested. “Come on. Ask away.”

“So– I mean... Yes sir.” She smiled. “You–you hate coffee right?”

“It taste as if the foulest part of the Warp had pissed in water and dubbed it a healthy drink,” he stated plainly, enticing a laugh to his operator.

“Then... why do you drink it?” she asked, still giggling. “You always have this flask full of it and you always drink it when things get bad.”

“Because...” he started.

Captain Typhoon Snivel pondered upon it. The answer was obvious, but the correct words eluded him. He looked at his screens. The Crusader took all the place in it now. How much time did he have left? Ten minutes? Half an hour? Funny how his own death looked so distant despite its imminence. Typhoon looked back at his Operator. The silence stayed unbroken for several seconds. Then the captain talked, his voice as calm and resolute as ever.

“Because, it’s a small price to pay for the Imperium.”

Part I - Interlude - No more Hope

View Online

PV-01’s orbit
Luna’s Bats battle barge Somnum Exterreri

The Somnum Exterreri invaded Ponyville’s sensors with the nonchalance of a predator approaching a herd of prey. Alarms came to life inside the remaining Dusk Squadron’s ships and on the surface as the battle barge’s signature flooded the sensors with threat warnings. In orbit, six captains shivered at the sight of the bulky battle barge. On the surface, messages were frantically relayed to assess the status of the ship and its allegiance. Everypony sensed the coming of an all too recurrent storm: war.

From her throne, Moon Terror watched the planet with fascination. Such a small world, with so many things at stakes. Like yet another offence to the Warmistress’s legacy, the key to her liberation and imprisonment lied not in a heavily fortified system... but in a backwater farm planet guarded by a hoofful of guardsponies and maybe a dozen ships. Her pragmatism was fighting her pride in a battle of conflicting feelings. A truce was quickly decided: crushing this planet would be enough to satisfy both. The Sorcerer was smiling smugly at her side, annoyingly taking the place she’d only allow to her second in command.

“Your plan has worked so far, Sorcerer,” she started, not even looking at him. “At the cost of two squads. I hope, for your sake, that your information is correct.”

“It is, Champion.” He smirked. Her annoyance at the title never ceased to amuse him.

“Such certitude...”

“I made sure never to disappoint, Champion. And you –” he emphasised with a wicked grin “– made it clear that my very life depended on it. This display of power is no longer necessary, I assure you. Our goals are the same.”

“So you say.”

“So I say, and so I intend to prove.” The Sorcerer sensed the defiance in the spacemare but didn’t take offence. She would be a fool to trust him, just as he would be a fool to overestimate his status on board.

His glare went from the Spacemare to the holoscreen. The whole system was laid bare before him. There was an amazing amount of information displayed. For an instant, the stallion marvelled at the warmare, able to follow the conversation and the endless stream at the same time. Soon his attention drifted to four lonely vessels out of their formations. Nothing particular marked them out of the ordinary. But the Sorcerer could feel the flow of the Immaterium pushing them toward their destination. The Convergence drew closer by the second. “There are few constants in this universe, but the return of the Warmistress suffers no doubts.”

“We will see.”

“Yes, we will. It is just a matter of time.”

Moon Terror looked at the spectacle unfolding before her. She didn’t understand the underlying “current of fate” that drove them, but she had to acknowledge the fact that things were eerily similar to his predictions. The four ships were about to be in position, just like he said. His prophecies had been extremely accurate so far. More than most psyker she had encountered. This was the reason she valued him enough to tolerate his impudence. His words carried truth, not hazy possibilities blurred with interpretations.

“When will the rest of the fleet arrive?” she asked out of the blue.

“This, I cannot say...” admitted the sorcerer. A good point for him in the eye of the spacemare. “The Convergence will saturate the Empyrean with energy. My visions passing this point are blurry.”

“Is that so?” she teased.

An exasperated sigh almost left the psyker’s muzzle, but he caught it in time. She’s just testing you. He took a second to strengthen his will to make sure he could keep his composure. When he finally talked, it was with a calm and composed voice, like a teacher addressing a rebellious student. “Imagine looking at the sun and trying to grasp the shape of the clouds around it or the stars behind it. Try as you might, the sun itself will blind you and obscure everything else. Looking past the Emergence is a task I am not capable of doing. I’m but a humble initiate of the matters of the Warp,” he jested with a mock bow. “I can predict the most important galactic event of the millennium, but not much more. Sorry to disappoint.”

To his surprise, she smiled. It was not much, but the corner of her mouth was definitely higher than usual.

“Can you at least tell me if there will be there before the Imperium reinforcement?” she asked earnestly.

“I can lie to you if that is your wish.”

“It was worth a shot, I guess,” she said, her tone returning to her formal neutral indifference.

They turned toward the screen. Watching the spacial ballet before them. Three ships drifted lazily, framing the Ponyville and its sun. To the military mind of Night Terror, they were disorganised, out of place, but the Sorcerer could feel the underlying order behind it all. Everything was falling into place.

At the centre of this perfect picture, two ships were about to collide. It was the apotheosis of the act, the finishing touch. The Sorcerer couldn’t blink not turn his gaze away.

The impact was barely noticeable in real space – a star among others in the dark sky. It hardly registered on the screen.

But for those attuned to the currents of Chaos, this was something else entirely. The event grew and grew like a fire spreading in the night, like a star finally burning its gas. It got bigger and bigger. Soon it rivalled with the pale red orb in the distance and it still got more intense. A white fiery wound in the fabric of space. And the Warp spilt through it, unnatural colours bleeding on the canvas, tainting it, ruining it in ways that defied reason and sanity.

The Sorcerer smiled. “It has begun.”

☀☀☀

PV 01’s surface
Orchards, sector 2OG79, Southwest of Ponyville

It was a nice and quiet night in the Orchard. Then again, every night was nice and quiet in the Orchard. Nothing happened there, save for the constant back and forth of the innumerable servitors taking care of the trees. That was why Zephyr Breeze liked the place. Sure, it was boring at times, but he would always take boredom over action. He left the agitation of town, the brawls, the drunkards, the noise, the crowd and everything urban to the other members of the militia. He would stay nice and safe under the trees where he would just relax and enjoy life, as nature intended.

That night was no different. If anything, it was even better. It was a lonely shift, meaning nopony would sneak up on him and ask him to actually do anything. He just had to report from time to time so they wouldn’t inquire about his whereabouts.

Life is great, he mused as he bit into a juicy apple. Just me, the stars and some apples to fill my stomach. Life is great.

☀☀☀

PV-01’s Orbit
Sword-Class Frigate Rise of Equus

Sergeant First Class Bright Star felt her headache go up a notch. The current cycle had been stressing, to say the least. The higher-ups hadn’t told them anything about what was happening, but something was happening. Tensions were running high in the ship and several disputes between the crew and the soldiers had erupted. Now the navigator was throwing a fit. And of course, as the head of security, she had to take care of it.

“If this keeps up, we’ll kill each other before anything actually happen…” she mumbled as she closed on the navigator’s chamber.

“Sir?” one of her ponies asked, thinking she was talking to her.

She didn’t repeat nor acknowledge her. The navigator chamber was in sight. The rest of the squad was already there.

“Situation?”

“We managed to subdue him but he’s still agitated…”

Bright Star sighed. Great. “Well done.” She took a deep breath and opened the door of the chamber. The soldiers saluted as she came in. Let’s get on with it.

The navigator was a scrawny thing. In fact, he looked more like a foal than an adult – and maybe he was – but something in his posture, in his look denied his appearance. The expensive robes and jewellery he usually wore had been violently stripped away from him by his bodyguards – a fancier name than jailers and potential executioners – leaving him naked, gagged and bleeding.

Well almost naked, Bright Star noted with relief.

He still wore his helmet. The metal casket sat firmly on his head, almost too small for his cranium, locked in place by tightly clenched clamps. Bright Star tried not to fix it for too long, for fear of what was hidden behind. Every navigator was born with a third, baleful eye. To glance it was very bad luck. To peer into it was a death sentence. It was fortunate they had stopped him before he unlocked the protection. Bright Star shuddered as she imagines what he could have done had he been unleashed...

“Did he say anything?”

“Yeah,” one of Star’s ponies answered while maintaining the pony on the ground. “Some nonsense about the return of something and eternal night or something.”

“I see…”

“He also mentioned a moon,” the pony added.

“A moon?” she let out, letting her mask of impassibility crack for a second. “The Everfree?”

“No, that’s not it. He was talking about this planet’s moon.”

“Ponyville has no moon,” she let out. Great, she thought, sighing deeply, more nonsense. The situation was too complicated for her liking. They could not quarantine the navigator. He was way too precious, and given the current situation, they might need him to reach some reinforcement. But they could simply not rely on him in that state. The navigator was growing more and more agitated and they had no idea why. She needed to make things move in the right direction.

“Ungag him,” she finally ordered. “I want to hear him.”

“Are you sure, ma’am?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

She didn’t.

The jailors quickly removed the gag, trying to avoid the navigator’s teeth with little to no success. As soon as it left his mouth he started screaming. It defied anything Bright Star had ever heard. He spoke words, but they mixed and meshed together, forming a single uninterrupted noise.

She hit him, hoping to make him snap out of it. It worked, to a degree. He stopped but the madness visibly still possessed him. Bright Star stood next to him, ready to act if needed. She didn’t mind slapping it out of him if needed.

She spoke slowly and coldly, her gaze boring into the stallion’s eyes. “I was summoned here to make you comply, navigator. You have sworn an oath and you will respect it. By force if necessary. Do you understand?”

“It’s too late…” he mumbled.

She wanted to slap him again, but she refrained herself. This was the first reasonable words he’d said in maybe hours. “Too late for what?”

“We should have left before the Dusk fell… it’s too late now…”

“Too late for what?” she repeated, louder, her exasperation growing.

His face slowly changed. She could somehow see it in his eyes, on his face… it was something both liberating and ugly. The manifestation of thought making its way through the brain and somehow crystallising, growing, hardening until it became a fact. It happened in a fraction of an instant, but at this exact moment, comprehension passed through them. She knew a dead pony walking when she saw one. “You’re all going to die,” he simply stated.

Things happened surprisingly fast and she was too slow to act. She could only observe. One of the jailor’s grasp had relaxed, lulled by the lack of struggle. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the prisoner to slip out of the restraint. He jumped at her, his strength denying his frail stature. He was on her in an instant, arms stretched, hooves reaching for her gun.

Time stood still.

Then resumed as her ponies started to shoot the poor creature. He never got to even reach his goal. A burst of bullet blew him away in a bombasting blast of detonations.

He was dead before he even hit the ground.

“I didn’t give any order,” she stated in a calm voice as soon as her ears stopped ringing.

“Ma’am?”

“I. Didn’t. Give. Any. Order.”

“He was about to…”

“To what? Overpower me?” Her simple look of discontent made the rest of the squad squirm in silence. She didn’t scream. She didn’t raise her voice, but anger laced every one of her words. “Now the ship’s without her navigator. Now we’re trapped around this planet until Canterlot sends us another. Now the squadron will have to negotiate with the Navigator Houses and pray they send us even remotely competent ones.” If looks could set ponies aflame, they would have already been turned into ashes then blown away by the cold winds of her reproaches. But she was not done yet. “Do you know what it is to face a Warp storm with an unskilled navigator? Or to miss your mark so badly you’re forced to crawl in real space for months? Do you ha–”

“Sergeant Bright Star?” The voice in the vox was colder than even hers. On a calm day, it felt like a whiplash. It was one of the few voices – if not the only one – that had the same impact on her as she had on her troops. And its owner was the only one who had the authority to use it on her.

Bright Star instantly stiffened, her body reacting on its own. “I’m here, sir. Awaiting orders.”

“The Dusk and the Crusader have been destroyed,” he informed her in a tone that could have been used to speak about the weather. “The enemy has launched an orbital attack of an unknown type on Ponyville from their previous location. Our ship is out of its trajectory, but we’re still too close to my taste. I want you on high alert.”

I’m not sure how much more on alert we can be, she thought tersely. “At your orders, sir.”

The communication ended before she could even tell him about the navigator, but then again, she was in no hurry to tell him. She turned back to her ponies. “Clean up this mess and gather everyone.”

They saluted in silence, too ashamed – or too relieved – to answer. She didn’t care which one it was. Both were satisfying. She left the room without a word.

You’re all going to die. Even in death, it was as if he was still threatening her. No… that was not a threat. Of that, she was deeply convinced. She knew it. This was not a threat. This was a promise. A prediction.

She knew she was right when the first screams erupted behind her.

She knew he was right when it finally reached her.

She could sense it before she could see it. She turned around, slowly and a cold shiver went down her spine.

The thing in front of her looked like the cadaver of the navigator. A simple glance at it would confirm it.

It was still a scrawny thing. In fact, it looked even punnier riddled with bullets, bleeding more blood than it was possible from its open wound. But something in his posture, in his look, denied his appearance. There was a presence in it. Cold, alien, malevolent. It cloaked it in an aura that was not of this world. It was an evil she had never know existed, and it looked at her in the eyes, his dead orbits filled with fire from another reality. It fixed her and she felt as powerless and naked as a newborn foal.

The creature opened its mouth and uttered a single sentence with a million voices.

“You’re all going to die.”

☀☀☀

The first apple took Zephyr Breeze by surprise. The second one even more so. The third one made him scream out of panic. It was when the fourth one hit the ground in front of him that he finally got up and out of the tree’s reach. Not a second too soon. The tree was getting rid of his fruits like one would shed off its leaves during an autumn storm. They were falling around him, dozens, hundreds of apples crashing on the ground like vegetal bombs.

It was surreal, beautiful in a sense, but not in the right way. Something in the spectacle was fascinating and he knew deep down that it was fascinating because it was wrong.

He tried to look around for a clue, an indication that it was supposed to happen but found nothing. The servitors were as clueless as him, desperately trying to pick up all the apples, but it would take days or weeks, maybe months.

Something was definitely wrong and somehow, he felt like it was his responsibility, which was a burden he certainly didn’t want. So his mind instantly looked for a way to unburden him from it.

“Maybe I should call the DPs…” he thought out loud as if to dispel his concerns. “Yeah. I should call them. They’ll know what to do!”

Zephyr Breeze started to walk toward the militia outpost. There were no more apples to get rid off, so the trees had started to throw their leaves away. Soon, it was twigs, then whole branches.

The trees now looked like imposing clawed figures watching him.

Zephyr Breeze ran.

☀☀☀

PV-01’s orbit
Evacuation vessel D91931518-D

To say that Sturdy Crew didn’t like the evacuation vessel was an Empress-mooned euphemism. Steel Bolt had told her that it was that or dying, and honestly? She still wondered if death wouldn't have been the best solution. At least dying was a short process. Being trapped in this tight, cramped, secluded, clumped, slim, narrow, scant, choking, sealed, constricting, confining place for hours was torture.

Her claustrophobia had been tolerable when she’d been on the Dusk of Hope. The frigate’s engine was ridiculously vast and she would be praised if she slept there instead of her ridiculously small quarters. But here… There was no escape… And the other ponies only made it worse… Every inch of space she could coax would then be reclaimed by another pony trying to access some measure of breathing room. In the end, and quite ironically, the only place that had been tolerable so far had been the ridiculously tiny resting room.

She had stayed there ever since, rocking back and forth in the centre of the room, eyes closed as much as possible so she could ignore the lack of space around her. Steel Bolt was doing his best to cheer her up, but his attempts had shown poor results. This had not stopped him though.

“Only a few hours left, then you’ll have more space than you ever wished for!”

“This is a few hours too long, I won’t survive that long...”

“Stop being a drama queen, Crew…”

“Buck you, Bolt! I hate this!”

“Sorry… I didn’t mean it that way…” he apologised with a sigh. He looked at her with concern. He didn’t really mind her bad mood. He was more frustrated with his inability to help his friend. “Listen, I’m going to see if they have something to eat, and maybe something for your nerves. Will you be okay?”

She nodded slowly. While she wouldn’t see it, she could imagine the air of concern on Bolt’s face as he left the room. He walked out slowly and loudly as if to make sure she would know he was leaving. Deep down, she appreciated the concern and the care… the sentiment was just buried under metric tons worth of phobias.

Somehow the silence and isolation felt even worse than sharing space with Bolt. With him gone, she didn’t dare open her eyes but it was hard to be so isolated in such a hostile space. She tried to sing to fight the silence and the ominous mechanical sounds it sometimes brought from outside, but it didn’t work as well as her companion’s annoying help. Finally, exhaustion got the better of her and she fell asleep.

Her sleep didn’t provide any rest. Her dreams haunted by nightmares and visions of death. Voices whispered in her sleep, trying to convince her to do terribly wonderful things. An insistent nudge on her shoulder delivered her from one hell to cast her back to another.

Oblivious to his friend’s distress, Steel Bolt jumped in front of her, invading her field of vision. “Crew! I’ve found something that will make you feel good! I mean really good! I mean so good you will not think of your claustrophobia fo a good moment!”

Crew jumped, genuinely scared by his enthusiasm. “Bolt? What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing! Don’t worry about it. Listen, you must come! I’ve found something amazing for you! I swear it will make you feel better!”

Something about his enthusiasm rubbed her the wrong way. “Listen, Bolt… I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier, but… can you give it a rest? Just stay here with me and–”

“No!” The outburst took her by surprise. Since she’d met him she had never heard Steel raise his voice. “Sorry…” he apologized softly, returning some kind of normalcy to the situation. “Listen, I know I’m not very good at this whole thing but I swear this will make you feel better!”

“But how d–”

“Trust me Crew… please?”

Something inside Crew begged her to stay here and ignore Bolt’s rambling, but something in his voice was different. It was more confident, beguiling…

“You won’t have to open your eyes! I’ll guide you. See it as a game to pass time!”

“I’m not sure how well that will work with all the other ponies,” she said with a chuckle. Still, she got up.

“They won’t bother you,” he reassured with a laugh that she didn’t know he had. Her surprise might have shown on her face because before she could ask what he meant by it, he was already explaining. “They’re all in the kitchen, or whatever that room is. Something happened and they’re dealing with it.”

“What happened?” She could feel the phobia rise up again. She was trapped here. If the ship had a dysfunction, there would be nothing they could do, she’d be trapped here in this space coffin and… She jumped as a hoof touched her shoulder.

“Don’t worry…” Bolt said in a soothing, calming tone, “there was a small problem with one of the door and they’re working on it. I don’t want you to worry! If anything, it means you have more space for yourself for a moment! They’re working on it, don’t worry.”

“I’m–”

“Please? I swear everything will be fine!”

She didn’t see it, but she could feel his smile. She felt, reassured by it. Somehow. There was definitely something going on… But Steel Bolt was a good pony and a reliable friend. “O–okay… I trust you Bolt…”

She felt the smile get broader. “Follow me,” he said.

The pony carefully guided her in the ship. For some reason, it felt way bigger, less oppressive. Maybe it was because she still had her eyes closed, Bolt’s game, the lack of ponies, or a combination of the three. Whatever the reason was, it felt almost good.

Bolt cautiously guided her through the ship, taking his time and making sure she would avoid obstacles. “Careful! Somepony spilt something on the ground… there’s something here, slightly on your left… there’s food on the ground in right in front of you, but you got space left and right...”

It only took them a couple of minutes to reach their destination, but it felt way longer to Sturdy Crew. But she didn’t mind. Her mind was free of her worries while it lasted and that was good. And she had yet to see the surprise Bolt had in store for her.

The pony walked a few feet away from her and she heard some sort of metallic click. “Okay. We’re here now. On three open your eyes, okay?”

“I’m not sure…” she said. Her anxiety came back all of a sudden. Something about Bolt and his surprise frightened her all of a sudden.

“Please? Trust me, it’s worth it! You’ll feel way better, I promise!”

She wasn’t sure why she believed him. Something sounded wrong but at the same time… there was something in his voice that sounded so alluring, so trustworthy. She wasn’t sure why she felt that way, but she felt very silly all of a sudden. Steel Bolt was a friend. He had always had her back. She nodded. “I trust you.”

“I know you do,” he said playfully. “Ready? One… two… three!”

Sturdy Crew opened her eyes, quick enough to see the endless vastness of space. That was the last thing she saw before decompression sucked her out with unmatching strength.

She never got the time to understand what was happening. Without any friction to stop her, her body started to spin, faster and faster, making everything a confusing black blur. Closing her eyes didn’t help. Everything just moved too fast. Unconsciousness came quickly after, offering her a merciful respite before the lack of air finally ended her existence.

Steel Bolt watched his friend spin out of control out the ship. Soon she was but a point drifting into space. She looked so happy… The voices were right… all she needed was space.

☀☀☀

Zephyr Breeze reached the militia station more worried than relieved. Even though he was doing his best to ignore it there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that something very bad was happening. He internally dreaded the moment he would not be able to lie to himself anymore. However, that was not the only thing troubling him. If there was indeed something happening, somepony would have to deal with it, and Zephyr Breeze didn’t want to be that pony.

There’s no way they can ask me to fight or something, he tried to reassure himself. Militia is just a civic duty. I’m still a civilian. I’ll get to safety like everypony else. The lie was not convincing, but Zephyr Breeze was an easy crowd. That was enough to motivate him to finally go inside.

The outpost was empty. For once, Zephyr Breeze didn’t find the lack of authority reassuring. Quite the contrary. Right now, he craved stability and somepony to tell him what to do. Still, it was just a minor road bump. He knew for a fact there was a vox here somewhere. All militia outpost had one – and each of them had been used at one point or another to signal his laziness to the DP.

Soon everything would be back to normal. He hoped.

☀☀☀

Watchful Eye trotted toward the armoury. She did so with determination, an anxious expression plastered on her face and a mind filled with prayers. She wasn’t supposed to be there, but what else was she supposed to do? Fortunately, nothing had stopped her yet. That was a good thing. It meant she still had time.

The armoury was not even guarded. Seemed like the Empress was with her tonight. She took the pass she’d stolen earlier with as much confidence as she could and used it on the door. It opened without a hitch, just as planned.

Bless the Empress, for she is the Salvation of Ponykind, she recited as she rushed inside.

The room was bigger than she’d thought, filled to the brim with guns of various size. She looked around, looking for something that looked conveniently deadly. She knew nothing of weapons. She was just a clerk, not a part of the military. Her only knowledge of armament were their corresponding numbers on the diverse reports and requisition orders. But what other choice did she have?

There was nopony else left.

Nopony had listened to her when she spoke about the monster. These grinning, twisted abomination… They’d dismissed her. They’d told her she needed rest. And now they were all... gone...

Not now girl! she thought with anger. You need to act now. The path to duty is often a stony one, made smoother by thought for others, she recited as she dug through several models of guns and canons. She didn’t know what the things were, but she was sure faith and a good gun would solve the problem. She would save everypony.

She finally chose a weapon. A lascarbin. Light and effective. The symbol of Her soldiers. With that, she would be able to enact the Empress judgement.

The Empress prote–

Two bursts of chevrotain each interrupted her thoughts, her actions and her life. The mare collapsed on the ground, her weapon still in hooves.

Hard Wave watched her fall in silence. Swiftly, with well-practised moves, he reloaded his shotgun, cursing the foul aberration he had just destroyed. They were everywhere, lurking, grinning...

And he was the only one left to fight them.

☀☀☀

Zephyr Breeze watched the blood dripping from his hooves, but his brain rejected the information. The thick, crimson liquid gathered at the tip of his hoof, forming heavy spherical blobs that grew and grew until the superficial tension gave up and let gravity do its job. Then it would fall and fall and fall until it reached his cheek. He blinked every time. As if he was surprised to feel the reality of it. He was too confused to accept it, too shocked to accept it.

Accepting it would force him to stop denying what had happened. He had killed somepony. He had killed somepony. He had killed somepony. He had killed.

No matter how he looked at it – or refused to look at it – the thought didn’t make any sense. Nothing tonight had made any sense. He had dreamt dreams that made more sense… but dreams didn’t leave bruises. Dreams didn’t stain his fur and hoof with blood. Dreams didn’t smell like death.

This was not a dream, and Zephyr Breeze could not comprehend it.

The pony had attacked without any warning. They had a knife. Had he tried to reason with them? He was sure he had said something… But they didn’t listen. They jumped at him with a knife…

And then they died.

And then he killed them.

It didn’t make any sense. It didn’t make any sense. It didn’t make any sense. It didn’t make any sense...

☀☀☀

The world had ceased to make sense.

Madness had spilt from the Orchard, infecting Ponyville and its inhabitants.

Zephyr Breeze watched his town devolve into something alien with a strange detachment. Some buildings were burning. Others had been vandalized to various degrees. All around him, he could hear screams and gunshots, some of them so close he could probably see the scene if he ever decided to look in the right direction – he never did.

☀☀☀

A mare grasped him and asked him something. He couldn’t grasp what she said. He wasn’t sure he answered. All he knew was that she’d left him alone after some time.

☀☀☀

Strange lights danced in the sky and Zephyr Breeze watched them with primal awe.

They bore some similarities with the polar and prometheal auroras, but something about them was just wrong. Their colours were impossible, using palettes that the equine eye could not and should not see. They shone without bringing any illumination – if anything they drained the light around them – but still were perfectly visible, piercing even the few clouds daring to hide them. But the worst was the things hidden in the lights… figures, words, symbols, things hidden in the corner of his eyes. Terrible things that the sane shouldn’t watch.

Yet Zephyr Breeze watched, guided, lured by some ancient force.

How long did he stay there? He didn’t know.

He gazed into the lights until the light gazed back, whispering, chittering, chanting, clamouring, about truth and falsehood about him and his crimes.

Zephyr Breeze’s fear finally took over.

He ran away from the lights and their insidious influence.

☀☀☀

Zephyr Breeze finally reached the militia barracks.

It came as a surprise to him that his steps had led him here. For years he had avoided the place, only going when he knew he could not escape it with just a warning.

It had changed a lot since the last time he had seen it. He remembered it as an impressive-looking building, a small tower in the centre of town, guarded by auto-turrets and over-zealous ponies barely a hoof into adulthood. It was not nearly as impressive as the Dulce Pomum’s fortress, but it was still one imposing-looking building, dominating the surrounding area.

Now, it was just another ruined thing, burning its foundations away, destined to crumble and rot like the rest of the planet.

There were bodies scattered all around the building. Most of them wore the militia uniform. Zephyr Breeze recognised none of them. He had no idea who the other ponies were either. Did they attack the building just as he had been attacked? Or were they just at the wrong place at the wrong time?

Useless questions whose answers he didn’t care for.

His officer’s office was on the second floor. That one had not burnt yet. A chance.

“Zephyr Breeze reporting from duty,” he said as he entered, making an exaggerated salute.

The room was even more messed up than the rest of the building. The desk had been overturned, there were burn marks everywhere. There were five ponies in robes lying dead near the entrance. Shot, all of them. A sixth body was hidden behind the desk. This one had been stabbed repeatedly.

He knew this one. Cobbler.

“You were a tough bitch til the end,” he commented as he leaned toward her. “You got five of them. That’s very impressive, Sarge.” He looked around and finally found his prize. Her laspistol. It was an old model, obsolete even. But she liked for some reason. She also liked to motivate the new recruits by aiming at their hooves with it.

Bitch.

“Guess I took it from your cold dead hooves,” he joked as he checked the battery of the weapon. There was still plenty of it inside. Good.

Zephyr Breeze pointed the gun at his temple. The muzzle felt nice and cool on his fevered flesh.

“Here’s my report. We’re all fucked.”

Part I - Chapter 07 - Untrustworthy

View Online

PV-01
Communication array’s plazza

Twilight had guessed the conflict before she could even sense it. The rumours of war had managed to reach even the deepest part of the archive. Her vox discussion with the other Spacemares was only for confirmation purpose. She had no doubt about what was happening. She had given short and simple directives to the spacemares, eluding their questions on her whereabouts. She had no time to spare discussing her own mission.

Twilight ran in the increasingly ruined streets of Ponyville, trying to reach the communication tower before the enemy – the children of the Moon as they called themselves – destroy it. She ran, totally oblivious of the enemy fire. The battle was almost an afterthought, something she did mechanically as she progressed. Her staff flew around her, akin to a golden bird of prey hovering above the fight, killing anyone venturing too close to its master.

Twilight ran and her enemies died, their scream adding to the chorus of war. But she didn’t care. Her attention was wholly elsewhere. Messages, coming from the different skirmish fronts and command hubs, were erupting without pause, complemented by the occasional input from Spike and the endless data stream of her retinal display. Each second added new information or modified the importance or content of previous data. Still, the equustode filtered and analysed them, with the ease born of experience and mental conditioning.

Cultist incursions and sabotages; pockets of resistance from one side or the other; fronts and fallback lines; movements of troops; stalemates, victories or defeats; suborbital assaults and cannon fires; ammunitions, vehicles, transport…

She let the flow pass through her. Her attention was entirely focused on one fact. The communication array was still operational. She had to access it before the enemy sabotaged it too. She had to warn the...

“Equustode?”

Instinctively, Twilight pointed her bladed staff in the direction of the voice, ready to strike… then she relaxed. She had not sensed Pinkamena coming next to her. “Yes?”

“The way’s open,” she said, her voice lacking her natural enthusiasm. “Do I really have to wait here?”

“Yes. Make sure the area is clear. Do not let anyone inside.”

“What about the others?”

Twilight only thought about it for a second. “They can deal with this without me.”

Had she paid attention, Twilight would have seen the reluctance in the warmare’s body language. But she wasn’t paying attention. She barely registered Pinkie’s salute as she passed her. She barely noticed the communication runes flashing on her retinal display. This planet, this seemingly insignificant planet was under attack by insurrectionists, cultists and traitors while the stars above were swallowed by a rift in space. This was not a coincidence. This could not be. The Warmistress was coming back here and now, and she needed to alert the Throne as soon a possible.

☀☀☀

A sentiment of perplexity was plaguing Rarity’s mind. And this was affecting her work, adding lag and imperfection that she needed to correct as she went. Yet, she let the thought process go its way. Inspiration and illumination always came to her while she worked, and today, despite the unique urgency of the situation, was no exception. She was on the verge of a breakthrough and one minute and twenty-seven seconds delay out of several hours of works were well within the authorised margin of error. All in all, an acceptable trade-off.

So Rarity pondered, while her artificial limbs soothed the machine spirit of a shield generator. Data streamed in her head, drawing a mental map of the situation, which ultimately left her frustrated and unsatisfied. Something was not quite not right with this assault. The enemy cruelly lacked cohesion or objectives, and yet, they had efficiently disabled several key parts of the defence, most of them pivotal to preventing orbital assault and planetary invasion. This attack was irrational and inelegant, and in any other situation, Rarity would have left it at that, putting it on the chaotic nature of the insurrectionists. But this did not fit with the presence of the spacemares in orbit nor the stellar event above. There was something. Something ominous. Something bad. There was a missing piece somewhere, and she had a hunch that some details she had overlooked were the key to understanding it.

The details. Everything resides in the details.

A flurry of binary code signalled her that her servitors were done with their part of the maintenance. The power station would be working in a matter of minutes. By impulse more than need, Rarity checked the next sites in need of her touch.

This made the cogs in her mind click.

“Omneighssiah...”

The word slipped through her muzzle with the strength of a curse. Pieces fell into place. Questions she had not even thought about arose, leading to more elements of an answer. Frantically, she checked the records of the attacks and sabotages and the maintenance records of the previous years.

The missing piece revealed its ugly frame as Rarity dug deeper and deeper into it. Soon she arrived at the end of the information available to her, but she kept looking, bipping and buzzing demands... For a few seconds, information filled the room in the form of vocalised machine language. Then it stopped, almost as soon as it started. When it ended, Rarity had the answers she so dearly wished. And she did not like them.

Who would make such a contraption? Why?

Rarity didn’t inquire further. Time was of the essence.

☀☀☀

“Applejack,” Rarity had asked, “I need you to find Fluttershy and bring her to the rendezvous point as soon as possible.”

How hard can it be to find a giant, armoured, rampaging sarcophagus? Applejack had thought at that moment.

As she ran into the street, Applejack found herself re-evaluating her statement. Following Fluttershy’s trail had been either predictably easy or infuriatingly frustrating, with no middle ground. Fluttershy would go straight toward a group of enemies crush them and then go to the next... It would, and should, have been easy... save for her power jumps above the crumbled walls of the town. Applejack was forced to guess her general direction and follow it, often having to get back on her tracks.

The terrain was also a problem. On top of slowing her, the maze of walls and the narrow, turning streets made her armament poorly suited to the situation, forcing her to use close combat weaponry. Her combat knife and her power hooves were soaked with the blood of the heretics she’d encountered, while her heavy bolter and munition belt hung tightly on her back, unused.

“T’is eldeer hunt all over again...”

☀☀☀

The orbital defences were down. Despite their best efforts, they could not have stopped the endless waves of foes that had submerged them. The rest had been a matter of time. Now the fight was on the streets... For a time she’d try to repel them, but they were everywhere.

Where were her sisters in battle? They had to be close... They needed to regroup and organise. Where were her sisters? They were probably as busy fighting as she was. She looked at the crushed foes at her hooves. She didn’t like to fight alone. Spacemares should not stay alone. Where were her sisters?

“Fluttershy?”

“Sister!” she called, without facing the newcomer. “Where are the others? The griffons are coming. We need to regroup.”

There was no answer.

“Sister?”

Fluttershy slowly turned toward the voice. The movement was ugly and mechanical. Her whole body felt ugly and mechanical… It felt wrong and unfamiliar yet intimate, like a graft starting to integrate. She stepped clunkily toward the spacemare. Why did her body feel so wrong? Another step. The paved road shattered under her weight, revealing the earth under. Why did she feel so weak, yet so strong? She looked at the warmare, her senses not quite her own. She tried to blink but failed. The feeling of otherness grew bigger as she watched her sister. Who was she? Her armour was wrong. The colours were not those of the daughters of Cadance, neither was her insignia. Did other legions join them in this battle? Fluttershy tried to wipe the sweat and blood from her face. Her hoof hit her head with a heavy “clung”.

Confusion.

“Fluttershy...” said the spacemare with hints of concern.

That voice... she knew it. She could almost remember her name.

“Come back, Fluttershy...” the voice asked. “We need you.”

Fluttershy watched her intensely. She was still wondering why her sister would wear the Imperial Hooves colours and armoury. She tried to extend her hoof to reach her... then hit the glass of her amniotic chamber.

Reality struck her like nutrient fluids on a dying corpse.

“Applejack,” she uttered, breaking free of her reverie.

“You okay, sister?”

The vox buzzed a moment, but no words came out. Applejack said nothing.

“I am,” Fluttershy finally answered.

“We need your help.”

“What... do you need me for?” the dreadnought asked.

“We need to go to the communication tower, as soon as possible. Rarity thinks something’s happening there.”

Applejack looked around her with an annoyed expression. Fluttershy had led her quite far from the rendezvous point. Reaching it quickly by conventional roads would be a pain. Fluttershy saw the frustration in her sister.

“I know a shortcut,” she said softly. “Follow me. If you don’t mind.”

“Lead the way,” Applejack answered with a smile.

The dreadnought slowly shifted toward the communication array, facing the walls of a building.

“Stay close.”

Fluttershy braced herself; her massive servos and mechanisms ground into position, then locked. Applejack took place behind the immobile hulk of adamantium, ready for what was coming next.

My sisters count on me...

Fluttershy started moving. The stone of the pavement exploded under the pressure, sending debris flying all around. Her speed almost took Applejack by surprise, not so much because of the dreadnought’s actual speed, but because it had come with no transition. The behemoth had been immobile, and the next moment was charging forward.

The building faced the charge with the resistance of dense air. The hulking body tore through it without even slowing. No. It was gaining speed, reaching a pace close to that of a running spacemare, not slowed nor phased by it in the slightest. The second wall had the same lack of effect.

And so did all those between their position and their target.

☀☀☀

Rainbow Dash fell like a bomb.

The noise of her engines had been replaced by howling winds. Despite the height, she could still see her objective, almost a mile below her. She kept falling, faster and faster, her superequine body facing the increasing wind pressure with ease. Her armour wasn’t even needed to compensate for such a little fall, so she shut the system up so she could enjoy the experience to the fullest.

She was a few hundred metres above her target now. She was close enough to hear the raging noise of the battlefield, the screams of the fighters, the percussions of the guns, the deep baritone of the explosions, the rumble the vehicles, the whistling counterpoint of the lasfire... In this fleeting moment, war was a symphony played by instruments made to kill.

Gravity kept her in its grip. She soon reached her terminal velocity. Her wings, folded on her back, only gave the slightest, subtlest touches to keep her on track. The battlefield under her become narrower and narrower as she closed to her destination. She could distinctly see the traitor’s group closing in on the guards, ready to ambush them. None seemed to have noticed her. Death was silently coming to them, in the form of a falling blue and black meteor of bio-engineered flesh and retribution wrapped into deadly machinery and armour.

Rainbow Dash chose her victim. A bulging earth pony wearing chaos signs on his fur. His body language and the attitude of the other cultists pointed him as the leader of this pack. Rainbow Dash was less than one hundred metres above when one of the ponies noticed her. Incredulity, shock and terror flashed into her eyes as they realised their incoming death. In the less than two seconds it took the spacemare to reach them, Rainbow Dash pivoted and reactivated her jetpack, just long enough to make the landing bearable by her armoured body. The brutal deceleration hit her, sending even more adrenaline and stimulant into her bloodstream.

Aw yeah!

The pegasus impacted the stallion, utterly pulverising him. The resulting shock wave and the flames from the engines sent everypony flying around.

It would have taken a long time to shake off the confusion created by the light, noise and fumes of the engine. Even more so, to get past the physical trauma of having being sent violently into a collision course with the ground or a wall. For a few of them, there was she additional burden of having seen their leader being crushed to a bloody pulp by a falling killing machine. Unfortunately for them, Rainbow Dash was not a very patient nor a forgiving pony.

They were promptly executed.

“Purge all traitors,” she muttered.

“According to my last estimates,” the voice of Rarity announced on her now unmuted vox, “you are 0.00595901117% closer to your goal. Do you want me to calculate the time needed to accomplish this? And the number of times I will have to repair your apparatus from your reckless and nonconforming use of it?”

“No thanks, Rarity,” she grumbled back.

The unicorn had often complained about how often Rainbow Dash would have to come back for maintenance and how much stress she was putting on her “apathingy”. Even in the middle of a war, she would complain about this...

Gee, maybe we should let Rarity loose among the enemy and let her sermon them to death.

She looked around her. The platoon of soldiers kept going. One of them recognised her and made a quick salute. She returned it. Her focus snapped back to Rarity. “What I’d want is our defence at full power so we can wipe them out. How’s it going?”

“Good,” Rarity answered. “However, I have bad news.”

“How bad?”

“Bad enough for me to ask you to ignore safety protocols.”

Okay, that’s pretty serious, she thought with concern. “What do I do?” she asked.

“I want you to go to these coordinates as fast as possible.”

The set of digit prompted on her retinal display. The position indicated was far. Very far. “Huh... That’s at the other side of town,” pointed the rainbow-maned spacemare.

“All the more reason for you to go there as fast as possible,” Rarity replied. “I’ll brief you promptly. Now please go.”

“Okay, I’m going.”

The vox crackled and shut down, leaving Rainbow once again alone with the cacophony of the battlefield.

“What the heck is happening?” she muttered as she took off.

☀☀☀

Pinkie Pie was bored.

Despite her best effort to find something to enjoy about the situation, she was still deeply bored. She’d tried to play hide and kill with her foes, but it had rapidly proven pointless. The rebels were just bad at it. They would constantly try to kill her instead of hiding, ruining all the fun of the chase. Now all the enemies in the area were dead or too far away. Pinkie Pie had tried to find a positive spin to her situation, but despite her best efforts, she was still bored. The ponies around her were rather content of their situation, much to her dismay.

“Well Duh! Obviously, guardsponies would be glad to guard something,” she rambled to herself. “I’m not made for this! I’m so bored! Guarding a place is boring!”

“Why, by the Empress, would YOU do something like that?” ask the dumbfounded voice of Rarity in her vox.

“I know right?” the pink warmare answered, utterly unphased by Rarity’s unannounced interruption. “I mean why would I, Pinkamena Diane Pie, expert in sabotage and harassment, guard someplace without moving? Because it was an order, Rarity... A direct order even! I can’t go and disobey a direct order because I don’t like it... except if there’s obviously something wrong with it. In that case, I guess I would have to disobey because the Empress goes first.”

“Hum, darling?”

“But then again, maybe they’d know something I don’t. Like that equustode. I’m pretty sure she’s hiding something from us, but I don’t know what it is, or else she wouldn’t be hiding it from me, she would just think she would be hiding things from me, while in fact, I would know it all, and then I would know if I should obey or not. Like when you know there’s an ambush and you counter it by showing up ultra-prepared.”

“Speaking of ambush...”

“So that’s why I’m guarding the communication tower. Because I don’t know if the equustode is hiding a good secret, like the activation code of the Empress armoury, or if she’s hiding a bad secret like she could totally be a spy. Not that I think she’s a spy. Or maybe she is a spy. A pretty good one.”

“Are you finished?” calmly asked the Techmare.

“I am,” Pinkie Pie answered, nodding her head heavily.

“Pinkie, you’re at the central communication array is that right?”

“Yepper.”

“Are you with the equustode?” Rarity asked, increasingly worried.

“She went inside to deliver an important message. Or so she told me.”

“How long has she been inside?” the techmare enquired.

“Twenty-three minutes,” she answered instantly. “Why?”

“Oh, Omneighssiah... Pinkie, it’s a trap. You have to warn her! Now!”

“But my orders...”

“Are not going to be very relevant is she dies anyway, darling. Besides, isn’t the tower itself inside your assigned perimeter?”

“You mean I can move from my spot and actually do something?”

“Absolutely.”

“Rarity?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

☀☀☀

The staccato of bolter fire echoed into the room.

The chorus of death had started as soon as Twilight had reached the main console of the communication array. Without any warning, a squad of ten spacemares and a cohort of ponies in rags had appeared, weapons primed at them. Twilight’s training immediately took over and with a thought, she erected a barrier made of scraps, furniture and rubles before the first notes of the deadly song. It had continued without pause ever since.

“You know, this situation seems to happen a lot since we’ve arrived.” Spike deadpanned while reloading his pistol.

“Not now, Spike,” Twilight groaned as she killed yet another child of the Moon. However, whether she wanted to admit it or not, her serf was right. And this further fueled her exasperation.

The bolters shouted again. The fortune barricade shook. Pieces of rockcrete and metal rattled on the floor.

“I’m just saying maybe there’s something we’re doing wrong.”

Bigger and bigger chunks of the makeshift wall fell. It was just a question of time before the cover became as effective as a sheet of paper.

“Not. Now. Spike.”

The monitor didn’t insist any further. Whether it was because he was busy firing at their assailants or because of the order didn’t matter to Twilight. She needed to think and had little time to do so. They needed a way to complete their mission and get out of here. There were at least thirty-seven ponies, give or take five. But they were a minor threat, an inconvenience at best. The true problem was the spacemares.

It had taken her a few seconds to recognise the colour scheme of their armours – deep blue, with black shoulder pads – and the sigils they proudly bore – bat’s wings above a new moon. They were Luna’s Bats. Though their presence was a surprise and a bad one at that, they were ultimately a small, isolated chapter. That would indicate a full fleshed invasion, or worse, was in preparation. In that regard, they were lucky.

Another bolter shot made the crumbling wall shatter a little more.

Twilight took a deep, calming breath.

First. Assessing the situation.

Getting out of cover was too risky right now. But she did not need to. Her weapon was more than enough. A thought wiped the blood out of the blade of her staff, restoring its lustre. Using the weapon as mirror, Twilight reconstructed the scene. The enemy formed an arc, slowly closing on their position. The non-augmented ponies were in the front, serving as flesh shield to already armoured warmares. They were patient, advancing slowly and steadily. Whoever their leader might be, she had given them good instructions. None of them seemed to be a unicorn or psychically active, however, which explained why their approach was so blunt and unsurprising. This gave Twilight an advantage. A slight one.

Second. Devise a plan of action.

Twilight did her best with the little time she had. She needed to get out of cover before it became an inescapable trap. There were three exits. One was not only too far but behind the enemy. The second, on her right, was the closest, but totally out of sight. The perfect set-up for yet another trap. The last, on the left, was visible and accessible, but it was a twenty-metre run completely exposed. They’d need a distraction to reach it.

Third. Act.

“Spike. When you see the opportunity, run toward the exit on the left. Find another way to send a message to the Empress.”

There was the slightest hesitation in Spike’s voice. “Sure, but I don’t think those ponies will agree to let me take that kind of opportunity.”

“I will give an opening for you. Be ready.”

The wall shook again. It would not last another round of bolter fusillade. It was already fortunate it had not collapsed at the first few shots. But she still didn’t move. She waited. Next, to her, Spike readied himself for what was to come.

In the distance, a bolter fired the last clip of its magazine.

And then, Twilight struck.

The Bats and their minions were wary of an attack. They would have been fools not to. They knew that a cornered beast was at its deadliest. They knew and they were prepared. Or so they thought. Their efforts, while commendable, was inadequate for one simple reason. They were too unimaginative, too slow, too weak… In other words, they were not good enough.

Twilight’s attack came from behind them, where cohesion collapsed into hindrance. The spacemare she had chosen had not reloaded her weapon yet. The renegade still managed to react. There was no lag, no wait in her movements. It had been practised and repeated thousands and thousands of time before. It was fast and smooth. She dropped her bolter and caught her chainsword in one fluid motion. It only took her an instant to do so. A single, fleeting instant. It was still an instant too many.

A golden blade pierced her hearts and lungs before she could even activate her weapon. Her body attempted futilely to fight the mortal wound as the spacemare tried to raise her blade. Twilight fixed the renegade in the eye, through the optics of her night blue, skull-like helmet. The blade sliced its way out. Blood bubbled out of the Bat’s mouth grill as her body went limp.

The Bat squad reacted quickly, moving in perfect unity to face the threat, like a finely tuned machinery. As one, they fired on the equustode, caring little for their fallen comrade. With a thought, Twilight placed the body between her and the incoming bolter fire. A volley of explosive rounds came crashing upon the carcass, tearing it to shred, leaving only a husk of bones… and no trace of the equustode. There was a purple flash and two ponies died. Then another and even more dead. Twilight hit and ran, teleporting in and out of the fight, reaping ponies at an incredible pace. Soon a dozen ponies and three of their augmented counterparts laid dead on the ground. And those who still live showed the mark of the equustode’s passage.

Everyone in the room waited anxiously the next flash, trying to catch the golden warmare, without any hint of success. Twilight, on the other side, was untouchable and untouched. The unicorn was an ethereal blade in the midst of the enemy.

She was also running on fumes. Teleportation was akin to drag her own body with her magic while in apnea. Constantly fighting while doing so was pushing even her physiology to its limits. However, she had no other options available. She had to buy Spike as much time as possible.

She teleported again, aiming at one of the already injured Bats. She aimed at her leg, in a vicious feint. Despite the urgency of the situation, the spacemare didn’t bite and deflected the blow. Weapons were aimed at Twilight once again, but she had already ghosted away.

A feeling of frustration grew inside her. Her attacks were slowly proving less and less effective. She needed to break the pace. Twilight steeled herself as more magic surged into the horn. Faster than ever before, she flashed all around the room, in a dizzying display. A few ponies tried to catch her only wasting more bullets in the air. Then, suddenly, the mare disappeared. There was a pause. All looked around, searching for the foe that had been harassing them so far... But the equustode was nowhere to be found...

I don’t see Spike anymore, she noted, with relief. Good. Time to finish this.

A warning scream resonated in the room. One of the few remaining cultists pointed in the air. Seven heavy guns went up, searching. Once again, they were too slow. Atop of her staff, blade pointed toward the ground, Twilight fell, right on her target. Magic pulled her body even faster toward the ground, aiding gravity, ming the impact way deadlier. There was a very satisfying “crack“, as the blade pierced the plate. The spacemare’s body immediately stopped moving, her spine severed by the impact.

Twilight smiled. She was now in the middle of the fray, with almost no spacemares around her. Just as intended. Her horn lit up again. But this time, there was no flash of light. Instead, four bolters rose from the ground. To her great satisfaction, she heard a deep warmare voice utter two delightful words.

“Oh, shit...”

The bolters fired in perfect harmony. The shots were loosely aimed, but there was no need to aim in this configuration. The explosive rounds carved grossly into the colony of traitors. The squad took cover while firing at her, mostly hitting the last cultists still alive. Twilight started to run, getting in the thick of the crowd, her blade barely moved, due to the strain of using so many weapons at once, but it was enough to get rid of any cultist daring enough to get close.

Another spacemare, and five more ponies laid dead or dying when the ammunition count of the last bolter finally reached zero.

Magic gathered in her horn again, the complex, yet familiar, patterns of the teleportation spell burning into her mind, shortening the distance between her and her target. She felt her body losing consistency while she was getting dragged toward her destination... then a shock on her flank grounded her into the world. The spell disappeared and the magic fizzled into the air, lost and useless.

Twilight reacted immediately. Her hind hoof struck the stallion right in the barrel, sending him flying. Another pony tried to come at her, a blunt weapon in his mouth. A lasgun came to life, enveloped in purple magic. A few well-aimed shots later, he laid dead on the ground.

Twilight tried to teleport again, but another blow disturbed her concentration. Now caught in the middle of the fray, Twilight struggled to use her long weapon and gather enough time to get out. She got rid of the ponies, and tried again, only to be pinned into place by a bolter shell. The projectile detonated, cracking her armour on the side.

The impact caught her off-guard and almost made her lose hooving. She braced herself for more shot. They never came. The weapon had spewed its last round. She tried to get to cover, but three spacemares circled her, pressuring her. In a normal situation, the fight would have been perfectly acceptable for Twilight. Hard, but acceptable nonetheless. But she was tired and outnumbered. This fight, she had no guarantee to win.

Twilight needed time and space and her foes were determined not to let her get any of those. She needed something, anything, to shift the balance of the fight long enough to give her an opportunity.

And she got just that.

There were five detonations.

The first two were short and soft, followed by coughs and surprised screams. Not wearing her helmet, she sensed the aggressive smell of tear gas filling the air. Her superior organs filtered it out before it could affect her.

The following explosions were more conventional. Hard and loud. Those were followed by a different kind screams, filled with pain.

Twilight got the second she needed. With a roar, she charged forward, into the thick of the cloud. There she started to gather her magic again. As she selected a destination, a voice echoed in her vox.

“Up!” the voice commanded.

Twilight train of thought stopped. The voice resonated loud and clear in her mind. This time the magic flew without a hitch. Twilight found herself airborne once again. Under her, the traitors and cultists were struggling to keep their cohesion inside the grey cloud of smoke. Still, Twilight could feel several guns of all sort and size pointed in her general direction. She braced for impact.

It came in an unexpected fashion. Rainbow-propelled and fast.

“Gotcha!” Rainbow Dash shouted. Twilight need not see her face to know she was grinning.

Both mares got on the ground swiftly. Rainbow immediately flew back into the fray, but Twilight took a second to analyse the situation. Between now and the moment the grenades detonated, the flow of the fight had been entirely reversed. Disoriented by the smokes, the ponies now deterred their mistresses, fumbling and coughing. The spacemares should have fared way better, but something seemed to interfere with their retinal displays and sensors, forcing them to rely solely on hearing. But this was only the tip of the iceberg. Somehow, without being heard or seen, a dreadnought and a devastator spacemare had joined the fray.

“How...?” Twilight thought aloud.

“Well duh!” said a familiar voice beside her. “I’m the best ambush planer on this planet!” A shot punctuated her declaration.

“But how?”

“Easy peasy! One smoke grenade, one PPG grenade, that’s for Pinkie Pie Glitter, by the way, three frak grenades, one remote detonator, and a little game of Red Light, Green Light not to draw any attention!” she quickly enumerated while aiming for another shot. “Oh! And my cloaking device helps a lot too!” she said pointing her cloak.

The unicorn was at loss for words. Pinkie shot and another pony hit the ground.

“Okaydokilokay-quustode! Let’s clean this place up!”

Twilight slowly nodded and got to that. There was still death to deliver.

☽☾

PV-01 orbit
Luna’s Bats battle barge, Somnum Exterreri

Night Terror watched the scene with apparent detachment.

The glowing rift into space showed her several facets of the fight at the same time. Like a broken mirror would show several, slightly different reflections. It had started with ten different angles. Ten shards of reality embedded in one. One for each of the spacemares forming the fifth Claw of the Luna’s Bats: The Sleepless. Now, only five remained and one of them was getting dimmer by the second.

The fifth Claw was retreating. Calmly. Night Terror ought to be proud. They had always been a good squad. Crimson Hooves had always been a reliable sergeant. She already knew replacing her would be a difficult task.

If only she could have sent reinforcement... But those damn imperial dogs had shut the signal. The warmare mentally shoved the thought aside. There was nothing to do about it now. Now she needed to get ready for the Warmistress return.

“Is there any way to listen to what is said?” the spacemare asked, her gaze still fixated on the fight.

“The short answer is no,” the psyker smugly answered. The spacemare didn’t react. He had somehow hoped to raise her curiosity but once again, his “Champion” didn’t rise to the bait. He brushed aside his frustration. “I won’t bore you with the details, Champion,” he added, “but hearing could be hazardous.”

“Limitations to your powers, Sorcerer?” she asked calmly.

The psyker smirked. He would not answer to her banter. “I am afraid so. The Resurgence proves to be quite the hindrance to my powers… Though... there is something more preoccupying than that isn’t it?”

“An equustode.” She nodded reluctantly.

“It is proof that the Elements are nearby.”

Another Bat died. Only four remained.

“Are you asking me, Sorcerer?” she inquired, small hints of anger oozing in her words.

“I already told you the Elements null my powers. If the oracles are true, this is how they work and why they exist in the first place. If I could find them that way, the psychic pets of the Night Legion could have done so too.”

An expression of contempt passed on the face of the Champion. She had no greater hatred nor disdain for any other group of spacemare. The former Daughters of Luna had forsaken their mother, their Warmistress for her megalomaniac daughter Abbadon. This betrayal was one she would never condone.

Another spacemare died. Night Terror’s control slipped again as she gritted her teeth. Sensing her discomfort, the Sorcerer kept talking, trying to push what he perceived as an advantage.

“Still... an equustode. Alone it would already have been a threat to your mares but now...”

“I do not want to discuss it, Sorcerer.”

The Sorcerer felt it. Licks of anger poisoning the air, like the remains of perfume in an empty room. It was faint, but for the spacemare’s control to slip enough to let him perceive it... it was quite something. The psyker enjoyed the feeling, almost feeding off of it. He hardly contained his grin. He really wanted to see the façade slip. He waited. Soon another spacemare died, charred into nothingness. Casually he continued.

“I was told once that failure is never an option. I wonder if maybe I could...”

The words died in his throat, crushed by an oversized hoof. He had not even seen her move... even with his powers, he had not even sensed her move! A moment she was next to him, the next he was hanging at the end of her hoof. He instinctively reached for the limb, struggling, scratching. Suddenly remembering that his life was also in the balance.

“Cha... champ...”

The words eluded him. Air eluded him. The spacemare watched him squirm at the end of her hoof with complete and utter lack of passion. In that instant, the Sorcerer wondered if he had not overestimated his importance.

Another spacemare died. Only one remained. Slowly, Night Terror flexed her arm, bringing the stallion’s face a few inches from hers.

“Do not ever try to bait me into soiling my mares with your taint,” she hissed. “Never again.”

As suddenly as he had left the ground, the Sorcerer found himself back on it. He wheezed and coughed. Night Terror didn’t even spare another glance at him. She watched as the last warmare died, a golden blade slicing through armour and flesh. The vision blurred and disappeared at this point, the source of its power now extinguished. She stared a few seconds into the empty space then left, leaving the Sorcerer panting weakly on the ground.

☀☀☀

The fight ended quickly. Without the advantage of number and surprise, the Luna’s Bats quickly found themselves overwhelmed. With the help of Applejack, Fluttershy, Pinkamena Diane Pie and Rainbow Dash, this had been more akin to a meticulous work of extermination than a fair fight.

“You okay, Equustode?” Applejack asked Twilight.

“How did you know I needed help?” she answered while cleaning her blade.

“Well, Rarity warned us about a trap and told us to go as fast as possible here.” Applejack shrugged. “So here we are.”

“You’re welcome by the way,” added Rainbow Dash, hovering above the battleground.

“Thank you for your help,” Twilight conceded. She looked around and saw no sign of the unicorn. “Speaking of her, where’s Rarity?”

“I’m here, darling,” the techmare replied, entering the room. Everypony looked at her with different degree of surprise, going from Rainbow Dash’s amused smirk to the gleeful smile of Pinkie Pie with a side of Applejack raised an eyebrow.

“What a timely arrival...” mocked the cyan pegasus.

“A lady should know when to make her entrance,” she said playing with her mane. “Furthermore, I was not idle while you fought. I made sure the signal was permanently shut off.” Rarity spared a glance at the carnage. “And it’s not like you needed me after all.”

“A signal?” Twilight asked. “What do you mean?”

“Someone has trafficked the array in such a way that it would send a signal serving as a teleportation lock,” she explained. “I admit it is my fault for not seeing it sooner, but for my defence, they have been at it for years. They were very careful. It seems they were expecting someone to actually send a message to Canterlot rather than rely on the automated alert.”

Twilight pondered on this. So that was how they had managed to take her by surprise. This, however, rose even more questions. How and why were they expecting her, for instance. There was something to dig here. They wanted to stop her from sending the message and were ready to go to great length to do so. Hopefully, Spike had had more chance...

“Wait, when did you suppress the signal?”

“Four minutes and twenty-seven seconds ago to be precise,” the white unicorn answered.

Around the time Spike left the room so...

“I need to go check on my serf,” she excused herself.

“I’m here my Lady,” Spike answered from across the room.

She turned toward him, hiding her relief. “Are you okay, Monitor?”

“Yes, my Lady, but we may have a problem.”

Of course we have, she thought bitterly. “What it is?”

“The message won’t get through,” he explained. “I guess whatever that thing in the sky is, it messes with our communications. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky it doesn’t affect the voxes either.”

Twilight thought about it. “Could a power surge help us get us through?”

“I... I suppose it could. Lady Rarity would know better than me but I guess it could work.”

All eyes turned toward the techmare. She slowly nodded. “It could work. It would ask a lot of energy to be effective within acceptable margins, however. More energy than our generators could deliver in our current, forgive the pun, situation. I would also like to point out that such a use of the array could severely deteriorate it.”

“Wait, what do you mean?” asked Rainbow Dash.

“She means that we should have to divert the energy from somewhere and that we would be cut off after that,” Applejack explained.

“Okay... from where do we take this energy exactly?” pressed the pegasus.

“It would take a tremendous amount of power to get through,” estimated the techmare. “We’d have to shut down entire systems. All across town.”

“What about the peripheral defences and the outer sector?” proposed Twilight.

All eyes turned toward the equustode.

“What about the civilians that are still here?” enquired Fluttershy.

“It would take time to evacuate them, but my ponies and I can definitely pull it off,” Rainbow Dash said with assurance. “We just need a good flight pattern and...”

“No,” Twilight interrupted. “I need you protecting the array. They clearly want to stop me from sending the message. We must warn the Throne and gather information.” She turned toward Applejack. “I’ll also need some ponies to take several documents in the archives. Fifty of them should suffice.” She pointed at Fluttershy. “I’d like you to escort them too.” She turned toward Rarity. “I’d also need you to make the preparations for the message as soon as possible.” She designed Pinkie with her hoof. “I’ll need to defend the place once again. I count on you.”

Without another word, she turned toward Spike, ready to make her next move. She stopped as she noticed that no pony nor dragon was moving.

“Was there something unclear with my orders?”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash answered, anger evident in her voice. “What the fuck was that?”

“Orders from your superior officer. Will you comply or do I have to demote you?”

Rainbow Dash was obviously about to retort something that was likely not words of compliance. Rarity intervened just in time, dendrites softly took place on the pegasus’s shoulder and torso, silently begging her to calm down and stay silent.

“Now, now, darling. Let’s not be hasty. You have to admit that your orders are a little unconventional are they not?” the white unicorn interceded.

“Unconventional my plot!” the assault mare burst out. “The enemy’s at our doors and she wants to dig into archives! ‘Gather information’ and whatnot! that’s not how you win a war! That’s not how we defend a world!”

“This is how I’ll win this one,” Twilight stated with authority. “This is a war you win by gathering intel and preparing for –” She hesitated. Some part of her wished to partake the information she had. The other wanted to keep them for her as long as possible. The latter won. “– what’s coming next.”

Rainbow was about to retort, but the mechanical whirring of Fluttershy’s coffin cut her short. “What about the civilians trapped in the town centre and in the mines?” she asked softly, repeating her previous concern.

“They’ll have to wait. Fortunately, most of them are not in the main routes to the barracks so the enemy will likely ignore them.”

“You know I could totally sneak them out?” the pink earth pony tried. “That would be easy peasy...”

“We’ll see if the need arise. Right now, I want you here.”

The pink warmare said nothing. Neither did Fluttershy, but the metallic forehoof clapping on the ground and the way the scout was playing with her cloak were explicit signs of their discontent.

“Okay. Maybe I’m too stupid to understand,” Rainbow said, taking a deep breath. “What’s the big plan? Why are you doing that?”

“I’m tired of repeating myself. We need intel on the enemy before we decide further action.”

“Does it matter? They’re enemies. We destroy them! Simple as that!” Rainbow yelled.

“No, it is not that simple!” Twilight answered in kind, finally losing her temper.

“And why is that, Equustode?” said Applejack, finally speaking.

Twilight hesitated again. The now familiar battle raged in her mind, with the same victor. “You have your orders. Now obey.”

The golden clad unicorn shut off the discussion by turning back to Spike and preparing for her own battle. The spacemares hesitantly started to leave. All save for one. Twilight chose to ignore the hoofsteps calmly approaching and kept inspecting her gears, hoping that her indifference would this time prove more effective than useless bickering.

It was not.

“Again, were my orders unclear?” she asked, still keeping her back turned to the spacemare.

“Very clear. But there’s another matter that needs to be addressed,” answered Applejack.

“I do not think so,” the unicorn answered, still turning her back.

A hoof placed itself on her shoulder and forced her to turn. Twilight opened her muzzle to shout, but another hoof hit her in the face before she could.

Silence fell on the room. Twilight instinctively put her hoof on her face, because of the shock rather than pain.

Immediately, Spike rose his gun, aiming at the aggressor, waiting for his mistress’s order. To her surprise, he was not alone. Rainbow stood beside Applejack, her blade aimed at the Imperial Hooves’ throat. The other spacemares did not move, visibly more conflicted about what had happened than their rainbow-maned sister. Applejack didn’t falter. She stared at her with all the disapproval she could muster. She apparently had a lot of it.

“You’re untrustworthy, Equustode,” she simply stated.

No. This was more than a statement. It was a judgement. Twilight stared back at Applejack. There was enough fury in her eyes to set her aflame, but the spacemare seemed unphased. Their glares crossed, fury meeting disappointment.

“I’ve seen the previous agents sent to check on us,” she continued. “They’ve been sent on this backwater planet to deal with lone spacemares, and I doubt they liked it. But guess what? It did not matter. Every one of ‘em was a prized agent of the Empress, may they be regular ponies, tech adepts, spacemares or equustodes. And they acted like it. They were diligent and efficient, they were reliable. They judged every pony on this planet by their work and made the best use of our respective skills. Some were harsh on us... buck, they all were! But they were fair. Their simple presence made us better. The Empress asked them to check on it and by her Glorious Mane, they did! They were examples to follow.

“You, on the other hoof, are a shame to the name of equustode. You could have dealt with the situation a billion ways better. You just had to call Pinkie outside for help as soon as the assailant teleported in for crying out loud! You could have had Rarity to send the message from the bunker and never gotten into the trap in the first place! You could have asked me or Rainbow for help to clear the place! You could have coordinated our efforts! YOU COULD HAVE VOXED US FOR GOODNESS SAKE!” Applejack gaze became harder, colder. “Instead of that you hid from us and put us all in danger. Imagine the damage this squad could have done if we had not stopped them! You are nothing like the other agents of the Empress. You are secretive and uncaring. You are untrustworthy.”

The judgement fell and with it silence on the room.

“Equustode?” Rainbow Dash asked reluctantly after a couple of seconds.

Twilight had still not said a word. She wanted to say that she did not care for their trust. Dismiss Applejack’s berating. But nothing came.

She was right. She was painfully right. From the moment she had been on this planet... no from the moment she had been sent in this mission, she had been full of doubts and utterly unreliable. She truly was untrustworthy, and despite her reassurance that she wouldn’t do the same mistake again... she had. Repeatedly.

She truly had been untrustworthy.

“Leave her,” she said slowly. “She’s right.”

Spike and Rainbow Dash obeyed, the former reluctantly, the latter diligently. There was an awkward pause that even Pinkie Pie didn’t dare to break. The equustode breathed slowly and looked at everypony, seemingly seeing them for the first time.

“Ignore my previous orders. Prepare plans for the defences how you see fit. I’ll meet you in the barrack in thirty minutes for a strategic meeting. Gather any pony relevant to the situation.”

The mares nodded.

“Oh, I almost forgot. Sergent Applejack?” she called.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for your honesty.”

The spacemare smiled and left the room after her sisters. “Think nothing of it... Equustode Twilight.”

☀☀☀

Equustode and serf were alone once again.

“Are you okay, Twilight?”

“She’s right. Isn’t she?”.

Spike didn’t answer.

“Since my first step on this planet, I’ve made more mistakes than in my entire life. That’s decades worth of mistakes, all concentrated in less than a planetary day.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” he tried.

“Am I? Don’t tell me ’Pain Keeper’ was that hard to spot. Nor were the ponies that attacked us in the streets.”

“Well...”

“I could have caught up with Pinkamena ten times, but I didn’t because I could not focus on the task at end. I didn't even react when she revealed to me there was a cultist cell on this planet...” Twilight breathed deeply, her “You know... I thought I somehow failed the Empress and that’s my punishment for my errors.”

“That’s what I mean when I say you’re too hard on yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Empress trusts you. She doesn’t need to punish you because you are one of her most prized soldiers. How many ponies can claim to have a personal connexion to her? This assignment has never been about punishing you. It’s about sending a mare she trusts on a special mission. Her loyal equustode, Twilight Sparkle. You’ve not failed her. You were right! The Warmistress is back! And she sent you here exactly for that reason!”

Twilight scoffed. “I made poor use of that trust didn’t I?”

“Yeah maybe,” he said with a smile, “but ‘trust is never given…”

“Trust is earned through your deeds”, she finished. These words, these ten simple words had been spoken by the Empress. It had been a lesson from the Mistress of ponykind from Her to Twilight. A lesson she had forgotten in her arrogance. She had forgotten and thus failed. But she could still do it. That was the whole point. She could still earn it back. She would earn it back. She would prove worthy of their trust... She would prove worthy of Empress’ trust.

And there was only one way to do it. Through action.

Her resolve slowly built up, dissipating the mist of doubt fogging her thoughts. Things started to make sense. Things were simple. She had a planet to protect against a powerful foe. This was her mission. And there was no other option than victory.

☀☀☀

PV-01
DP-Batallion barracks, strategium

The strategium was unusually crowded. The room had, after all, been thought with ten or so regular ponies in mind, not half a squad worth of spacemares and a dreadnought. Despite Fluttershy’s best efforts to make herself as small as possible, the non-horsestarte ponies had a hard time to fit in the little place left. Yet regardless of the pressure, both mental and physical, everypony remained calm and composed.

Twilight took a moment to study the ponies around her. For the time being, they would be her allies, her instruments, her weapons, her data stream and her voice to the several loyalist forces in presence on this planet.

There were the spacemares of course. Reliable and of superlative skills, even given the standards of their legions. But they weren’t the only one in charge nor the only one with with remarkable skills. Many of the non-augmented had not only proved their worth in previous battles, but had also managed to prove themselves to the Spacemare – a feat few ponies could pretend to.

One of them, leaning against a wall next to Rainbow Dash, was a rather small earth pony with ivory-white fur and a blazing orange mane. A large scar barred his face, starting shallow above the eye and deep around the corner of his muzzle. Colonel Ivory Meteor, she remembered from her files. First earth pony to reach the top echelons, despite the lack of wings. The stallion blinked at her as soon as he noticed the attention he was getting, which prompted Twilight to continue her expectation.

Applejack had come with more than a dozen ponies – whom Twilight knew very well now – however, two of them stood out of the rest. The first one was an old mare whose body looked as feeble as her gaze was sharp. Her pale green fur was riddled with marks or rejuvenating surgery and battle scars. She wore her white mane in a tight bun that gave her face an even sterner look. At her side stood her exact opposite. The stallion was a giant of a pony, almost as big as a horstarte. He stood at the ready, a few hooves behind the mare. His attitude seemed relaxed at first glance, but his weight was constantly shifting between his hooves, depending on the relative position of Applejack and his companion. His red fur was devoid of any battle mark (and Twilight knew for a fact that it was not due to his lack of presence on the front) and his short, blond, messy mane flow loosely on his scalp, just short enough not to hinder his vision.

Rarity and Pinkie Pie had come alone. In a sense. The techmare was accompanied by several robotic minions, more automates than ponies anymore, and the infiltrator was conversing with a strange servo-skull made with the remains of some reptilian creature..

Fluttershy was the only one truly alone.

All and all, counting the servitors and the servo-skull floating above the ground, the meeting counted twenty souls.

Twilight cleared her throat, silencing the room instantly. All eyes were instantly on her. For the first time since her arrival, Twilight could feel the pressure of responsibility. For the first time, her mind was clear and focused on the task she’d been assigned to. For the first time… she was a part of Ponyville.

Twilight watched them intensely and told them everything.

Part I - Epilogue - A world goes to war

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The Strategium was empty. Or almost so. The monotonous sound of pages of paper flipping was the only thing breaking the silence.

It had been less than a day since Spike had not been in a fight. Yet it felt like years. And the current peace he now enjoyed was more nerve-grating than soothing. War was coming. And as infuriating as it sounded, his role was not on the front with his mistress, but in the back, gathering, filtering and sending back information. So he did. With as much conviction as he could fake.

His mistress counted on him. So he obeyed. This was how he would wage war.

For now.

☀☀☀

War is coming, Applejack thought.

It had been barely two decades since the last major fight in the system. Five, if she only considered the ones that made it to planetfall. It had been a long time, considering the usual pace at which the spacemares fought. It had been a long time, even considering her own lifespan. But most of the ponies in front of her weren’t even born at that time. For them, it would be their first war. Not an exercise. Not a couple of encounters. Not a skirmish against badly prepared insurrectionists or passing through pirates. This time, it was the real deal.

The yellow-armoured spacemare stood in front of them. Her gaze passed through them. Studying them, without ever focusing on a particular individual. There was but a fraction of her ponies here. Most of them were busy defending the town and preparing the barracks for a prolonged siege. Those who would not see her were still listening via vox. They were all waiting.

War is coming, she thought again.

The thought was stronger this time. More tangible. Most of the ponies in front of her would die. Most of the guard in this planet be it on the DP, or in Cloudsdale, or in space fighting the Bats would die. She knew this.

The spacemare took a deep breath. Her lungs filled with air and determination.

“I dunno if you noticed, but we’re under attack,” she started, enticing a few laughs. She waited for them to calm. “And yes,” she added with a more serious tone, “the rumours are true. There are spacemares with the traitors.”

The words struck with the force of a bolter barrage.

“I know what you think. And you’re right, this sucks. Spacemares are not ponies. You were trained for war. We’re born for it, shaped for it and then we’re trained for it. Longer than most of you have lived.” Unease grew stronger. “You’re not fighting soldiers. Those are siege weapons in pony shape. Stronger, faster and tougher. If you face them one on one, you sure as hay will die.”

She stated the truths with no hesitation. Unrest was growing. A constant rumour agitated the soldiers. It was thick into the air, mixed with the potent smell of fear.

“That’s why you won’t do that,” she said with force and confidence. “You don’t face a tank head on. You use a rocket launcher and explosives.” She made a pause and turned toward a large pony covered with scars. “Except you, Head,” she said pointing at him, “you’re the kind of plain dwelling hothead who charges tanks and survives.”

Laughs erupted. The tension was magically disappearing, just as easily as she had conjured it.

“There are more of you than there are of them. You are prepared and armed. You are clever and flexible. If you do things right we may have a chance. But it won’t be easy.”

She paused again and looked into their eyes.

“It takes extraordinary ponies to win against a full spacemare assault. Twice as brave, four times as tough and ten times as strong as a regular soldier. It takes a DP to stand a chance.”

There was a third pause. She looked at her ponies once more. None of them dared look away from her. The fear was still here. But there was something else. There was hope. Applejack took a deep breath and screamed, loud enough to be heard by every one of them, with or without a vox.

“DP BATTALION! ARE YOU WITH ME?”

Hooves hit the ground amongst the enthusiast screams of the soldier. Guards on the barricades started to shout and sing. A confident smile adorned her muzzle.

“Well, DP, time to show’em what we’re made of. We will drive those heretics back to the bucking hole they never should have left. FOR PONYVILLE! FOR THE IMPERIUM! FOR THE ALMIGHTY EMPRESS!”

All around her, soldier repeated her words.

Most of them would die. She knew it. She accepted it. But they would not die without taking the enemy with them. War was coming, and it would have a warm welcome.

☀☀☀

Rarity heard, and felt, the ruckus from her laboratory.

Count on Applejack to motivate the troops, even with such unfavourable odds, she thought, with no small hint of amusement.

She filtered it out with a thought. She needed focus. Her appendages danced around her, adding subtle touches to the semi-mechanised ponies around her. Both servitors were now equipped with several armament systems instead of their usual maintenance tools. She had been reluctant to do so, but exceptional situations required exceptional means. And considering what she’d heard, this situation was as exceptional as they came. A surplus of protection would likely not hurt.

There were dozens of pieces of machinery, weapons and systems that still needed her touch. In the coming hours, there would be hundreds of them, and somehow, she doubted the enemy would be kind and civilised enough to let her do her work. As a result, she would have to make sure her maintenance plan was optimised. Every little addition could save a dozen objectives through butterfly effect. She could not afford to be delayed by unnecessarily long fights... or worse, impaired by them.

So, reluctantly, Rarity armed herself and her servitors.

Most of the weapons in her laboratory were dreadfully inelegant and far too inefficient for her taste. Fortunately, the techmare had already prepared her own armoury.

War is such a messy thing, she mused distractedly. Chaos and random variables, weapons breaking out of their turn and ruffians with unfathomable goals... dreadful.

Rarity shuddered at the thought. Fortunately, the Ponyssiah had given ponykind the tools to deal with the chaos of war. To tame it in a sense. Several of those tools were displayed in front of the Techmare. Most of them were too inelegant and inefficient to her taste. A selected few, however, were right up her alley. She had, after all, designed them herself.

Several instruments of destruction were reviewed, evaluated and rejected in a simple glare. There would be spacemares to fight. Maybe even a Primare’ch. She could not do a half-flanked job. Her selection had to be perfect. Several combinations were considered before she finally made a definitive choice. When she left the weapon racks, two curved blades adorned her anterior servos, two plasma guns rested quietly in holsters on both side of her barrel, and various tools that could either be used to damage or repair filled her utility belt.

This should do the trick.

One more task remained.

<Is Fluttershy ready?> she asked her servitor in binary code.

A single affirmative binary vocalisation answered.

As messy as war is,I suppose some things never change, she contemplated.

As usual, she wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or not.

☀☀☀

Even by the Marechanicum standards, Ponyville’s awakening chamber was a cold and empty one. Most of the necessary machines, servitors and ritual tools needed to run such a place were remarkably absent. The reanimating devices that still occupied the room were silent and unpowered. There was however one element in its rightful place. In her massive coffin, Fluttershy stood. Immobile. Mute.

But not asleep.

Fluttershy did not sleep. She never slept. Sleep brought memories. Memories of another life, another time, another millennium and distant stars... and distant wars. Sleep brought... false comfort. Sleep brought peace, when the galaxy knew none. Only war was constant. And after years – months? decades? – of ignoring this sector, it had come back.

But deep down, she knew there was something else. Something worse.

What she “feared”, for lack of a better term, was not the false comfort of sleep. What she eluded was the surge she felt inside her when she woke up. The anger. The rage tainting her blood... and which will probably one day take her and never let go.

So Fluttershy didn’t sleep. She waited patiently for war to come upon Ponyville once again. So maybe she could relieve herself... or find an honourable death.

Rarity’s steps rang in the hallway. Repetitive. Precise. The metronomic sound invaded the chamber, chasing the silence. An armoured hoof hit Fluttershy’s shoulder.

No, she corrected herself mentally. Not my shoulder. My tomb’s.

Rarity placed herself in front of her, her hoof still on the cool, lifeless metal of the Dreadnought’s shell. Maybe it was due to the Techmare nature, but the touch never felt as cold as it should. It was always a soothing relief from her condition.

“Are you ready, darling?” she asked with concern.

“I am, Rarity,” Fluttershy answer. She always was.

“Then let’s proceed.”

And then the simulacrum of ritual started. It was as old as their first meeting. Rarity would deactivate and reactivate each and every subsystem of the machines – one after the other, methodically – and Fluttershy would let her do so.

“Ready, darling?”

“... Let’s put an end to this madness.”

There would be no peace for the time being.

☀☀☀

To some, war was a duty, a chore or a necessity. To Pinkie Pie, it was a celebration. And it was her goal to make sure everyone involved enjoyed it as much as possible. For the ponies on her side, that meant killing a lot of enemies and not dying. For the ponies in front of her weapons... it involved dying quickly. If possible even before they even reached the core of the fight.

Why else would they deny the greatness of the Empress, if they didn’t want to die? It would make absolutely no sense at all!

So Pinkie had found herself planning for the party of her life. In the coming days, she would have the greatest guest in the history of guests. So she had to make sure the reception would be flawless.

She had naturally started with the area surrounding the barracks, starting with the north side. Barely one hour after her arrival to the northern quarter, the place had become surprisingly quiet. At its centre, the Glorious Empress plaza looked almost like ancient ruins, rather than an active battlefield. Considering it so, however, would have been a mistake. A mistake which had cost the life of several anti-imperial squads of in the last hours. The place was a death trap, roamed by a silent spectre clad in white and black. Soon the word had passed that the area was haunted and to be avoided until the spacemares’ arrival.

Just according to Pinkie’s plan.

The north wall of the barracks and the surrounding areas would have the time they needed to reinforce their position. Now she’d had to prepare the place for when more troops would come back. Which was just as fun to her as driving enemies away.

“Do you think they’ll like this one Gummy?” she said leaving the hole she’d just dug.

The trap was simple yet effective. A hole and a few well-disposed grenades. Enough to incapacitate a squad of heretics in a tight formation or a light vehicle. Or a spacemare. There were dozens of such traps laid all around the plaza. Each one unique in its conception, but equally lethal.

The spacemare looked at it with an appreciative look. The servo-skull floated closer to her head. Its antigravs whizzed softly as it came closer. The spacemare seemed to find some wisdom in the sound.

“You’re right!” she exclaimed as loudly as discretion permitted. “There something missing to make it really great...”

The pink warmare put her hoof on her chin, taking her best thinking pose. The idea struck her like a sniper round in the head of a cultist, stealing a victorious “HA HA!” from her lips. The mare got back in the hole, adding some key elements to the trap. Looking at her handiwork, Pinkie Pie smiled.

“Done! Now let’s go, Gummy! There’s still plenty of fun to bring to this battlefield!”

☀☀☀

Miles above, another spacemare was enjoying herself. No. It went beyond mere enjoyment. It was excitement at levels mere ponies could not experience.

Rainbow Dash revelled in the idea of fighting the traitor legions. But against a Primare’ch? Against the Primare’ch? This was not war anymore. It was something more. It was... a challenge. It was the challenge. It was the kind battle one only faced once in an entire century. Millenium even. The stuff of legends. And she would be in the front line. She would battle against the infamous Warmistress.

So Rainbow Dash was excited, and if her wide smile was not indication enough, her body language was very explicit.

Cloudsdale’s pilots had never seen the spacemare like this, but they knew her well enough to understand what it meant. There was a glorious fight coming. And it also meant they would have to give more than their maximum.

Rainbow and Ivory stood before what remained of Cloudsdale forces after the purge. The spacemare didn’t even go through her usual rushed introduction. She plunged right into the middle of it.

“Okay, guys. This is lame in my book: dying, missing your target, fleeing and not having a double-digit body count at the end of this. I know you can’t be as awesome as me, but I didn’t train you to be lame! Understood?”

The captains all snickered and smirked but acknowledged the words of the spacemare nonetheless. The strange humour and carefree attitude of the spacemare had always been a refreshing departure from the demigod mythos. They respected her nonetheless. No, they respected her more for it. If her attitude was unexpected for a demi-goddess, her skills were clearly on the divine side.

One after the other they saluted, as the custom wished. They were ready.

“Good. I’ll let Ivory give you the boring details, like who we have to shoot and where.”

With a tired sigh, her second did exactly that, providing them with the specifics of their targets and the battle plans. There was no question.

“Everypony’s okay with that?”

They all nodded.

“Perfect!” she said, reviving her jetpacks. “Now let’s kick their flank so hard they’ll talk about it for another ten thousand years!”

Laughs and roars of excitement echoed in the room. Rainbow Dash barely heard them. She was already outside.

☀☀☀

Like the creature it took its name from, Mares Pattern Rhinos were massive, unwavering beasts roaming the battlefield with a mix of serenity and power. The beast cut through the ruined battlefields without faltering, going through walls and ignoring the road’s newly added holes and irregularities. It was another matter altogether for the ponies inside, who would feel every and any fault in the terrain. All of them save for the golden warpony in their midst.

Just as her transport, Twilight was imperturbably calm. By some feats of equilibrium and perception, the unicorn seemed utterly unphased by the moving vehicle, staying strictly vertical in her position, despite some rather chaotic movements. Her closed eyes furthered the stone-like aspect of the warrior. Like some old statue braving the fury of the element with calm and indifference.

Inside her mind, however, a storm of prayers and devotion raged in honour to the Empress. War was coming. The Warmistress was coming. She would fight soon. So she prayed. For her soul, for her duty, to call the Mind Eye of the Almighty Empress upon her.

Twilight prayed and recited old words. Words of the golden and silver knights... And while doing so, she couldn’t help but think of the ponies this world now depended on...

Inside the barracks, her Monitor was helping her as he could, battling data instead of soldiers.

I am the Hammer...

Several miles away, an orange earth warpony organised the defences and readied ponies for an incoming siege.

I am the edge of Her Sword...

In the ruins of what had once been a power plant, a white furred techmare was trying to salvage whatever she could while fending off cultists.

I am the tip of Her Spear...

In the outskirts of town, a raging, yellow plated, pink bannered dreadnought was opening a path for refugees to get into safety.

I am the iron about Her Hoof...

A few miles above her, a pegasus, clad in white atop multicoloured clouds was about to launch the first series of aerial strikes in the area.

I am the flight of Her Arrows...

A small chock on her cuirasse stopped her. A guard had lost her footing and was now pressed on her. Twilight was wondering if the look of terror in her eyes was due to the prospect of battle or the fact she had disturbed an emissary of the Empress. Twilight elected to dissipate both.

With smooth and slow movements, she helped the guard find back her footing.

“Is it your first war, soldier?” she asked softly.

The pony nodded quickly, getting back to her position and gripping a harness.

“What’s your name, soldier?” she asked.

Said soldier fumbled an answer, barely audible in the vehicle.

Twilight slowly nodded. She turned toward the closest guardsman beside the mare. “What’s your name soldier?”

He jumped and answered nervously. The demi-goddess turned toward the following soldier and repeated her question. Everyone inside had their turn, answering the question of the mare with both nervousness and expectation. When all of them had given her their name, she spoke again, this time addressing them all at once.

“Soldiers, my name is Twilight Sparkle, equustode in the service of the Empress. Today you and I are comrades in battle. Today, each and every one of us carries the name of every pony in this squad, so when one of us dies, their will keeps going through every other member of the squad. Today we carry the hope of every pony on this planet, so we know that when one of us dies, they died protecting this very hope. Today we fight the enemies of the Almighty Empress. Today we wage war in Her name! And today we live and die for Her, here, in Ponyville!”

She had barely raised her voice, but her last words resounded in the vehicles with more force than screams could. The ponies around her now stood proud. Something had changed, and she could see it, even though she didn’t really understand it. And this made her feel slightly awkward.

“Do you know any prayers or battle songs?” she asked the first mare.

The mare nodded, then, after a moment of hesitation, she cleared her throat and started to sing.

War was coming.

The Warmistress was coming.

They would not be found waiting.

Part II - Prologue - Shadows

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PV-01
Outskirt of Ponyville

War had changed Ponyville. War, and the unnatural powers of the Warp. No sun had risen to illuminate the sky. Instead, a pool of blackness and impossible colours unshone above the planet, bleeding madness unto the world, leeching light and warmth like a parasite. The smoke and ashes saturating the air only made things worse.

War had changed Ponyville. A few days of short yet violent battles the had been enough to ruin it. What had once been a small mining hub at the heart of an agricultural world, had become a wrecked mess, roamed by black tendrils of smokes and moving shadows.

Three of those shadows lurked around, their hearts beating hard and loud, driven by fear and effort.

In the front, preceding her companions by a few metres, a pegasus silhouette tried to keep her breath in check. She nervously watched right and left, unable to pierce the darkness but still trying. Despite her exaggerated movements – born from the idea of stealthiness rather than training – she managed to spend as little time as possible out of cover. Not that it was hard in those ruins.

Following a few feet behind her, a unicorn was attempting, for the umpteenth time, to dim the light and sound of her device. The broken scanner biped every few seconds with a flash of light, ruining their scout’s efforts to make them blend in. Her efforts were poorly rewarded, in every way. Just as the previous attempt. And all those before it. Her companions let her tweak the device anyway – convinced that it was her way to cope with this situation.

In the rear, an earth pony was checking the surrounding. She progressed slowlier than the rest, making sure everything was clear before moving, while her hoof played distractedly with the safety of her autogun. What had, at first, it had been a mean of survival had soon become a force of habit. Neither the pegasus nor the unicorn looked too deep into it, however. The earth pony needed the reassurance, and so did them.

The attention of the pegasus shifted back in front of her. The darkness was too thick for her to discern anything past a few metres, but she still scrutinised her surrounding, looking for the slightest movement. The futility of the action did not matter. She needed some kind of reassurance too.

Despite their nervosity, the trio progressed steadily and soon arrived into what had once been a large warehouse. Offering a bigger target than the neighbouring structures, it had suffered the most damage. Only its corners still stood, reminders of its limits. The ponies rushed inside as if the four fractions of walls could somewhat protect them from danger.

The pegasus made a few signs, indicating that she would be checking the area before leaving. The other two did not try to stop her.

The earth pony looked around, trying to assess their situation as expertly as she could. The place was indefensible. That was obvious, even to her. There was almost no cover to speak of. It was not even a decent observing spot. There were too many buildings around where the enemy could hide.

At least we’ll hear them before they see us, she tried to convince herself. It didn’t work.

A nudge on her shoulder made her jump. Her heart hammered her rib cage again. The unicorn showed the device and nodded dismissively. There was no one around. Probably. The salvaged scanner was far from reliable, yet, as unreliable as it was, the lack of signal was not good. Two other ponies were supposed to meet them here. In fact, those two were supposed to wait for them here.

It was a bad sign if she knew one. Her pounding heart agreed loudly.

“How much time before we–” She hesitated. She wanted to say “before we leave them behind”, but she did not dare speak those words. “How much time?”

“Sixty bips,” the unicorn whispered after a while.

A bit more than ten minutes then, she calculated.

In the absence of clocks or sun, they had to improvise their own mean of calculating time. The regular sound of the scanner had been their timekeeper ever since they’d found it.

“Let’s wait for a bit longer,” the earth pony proposed. “How much is fifteen minutes?”

“Seventy-five” the unicorn answered after a time.

“Let’s wait.”

Time passed maddeningly slowly, yet too fast.

The scanner biped its death knell. Nopony had come, and it was time for them to go. But the earth pony hesitated for a couple of seconds. Her companions didn’t comment either. They probably felt the same as her.

One more “bip” sounded in the dark.

“Let’s go,” she sentenced.

They ran into the shadows, trying to be as silent as possible. From time to time, the machine would bip twice and the small silhouettes would freeze and wait for another signal, before getting back to their race. Their objective, one of the few outer zones not totally under cultists’ control, was drawing closer. They could see the flickering lights of the few lumen orbs that had survived the battles.

The shadows were losing their substance, getting less oppressive, less alive. While relieved, the trio decided to stay careful and to hide whenever possible. Bringing attention to them now would be really stupid, so they tried to fight the growing sense of urgency growing in them. However, despite their best efforts, they could not keep themselves from taking more and more risks. They grew more and more daring, they flirted with the penumbra more and more often, they sought riskier shelters. The light was getting stronger by the minutes, forms got more complex, colours sometimes dared to stand out from the dull uniform grey.

They kept running. The figures got more precise as they escaped the darkness. No longer did they melt in it. There was still no sound except for the regular bips and the occasional noise of rocks cracking, moving, falling... It was getting harder to pay attention. The thumping of their heart, pumping, beating, hammering, now overrode the muffled sound of their hooves. So close to their goal, it was getting harder for them to care.

Forms were getting more detailed now. Other sensations emerged from the darkness. Blessed warmth for instance, or the soft buzzing of the nearby power plants. It took all their willpower not to dash out of cover to the prospect of shelter. They were getting close. A few blocks and they would be there... They could feel the freedom at hoof. They could almost smell it...

The pegasus stopped. The unicorn, now following closely, hit her in the flank. The earth pony followed the trend and rammed the unicorn in the same fashion.

“What’s wrong?” the unicorn asked.

“Do you smell that?” the leader of the cohort answered.

It took them a while to smell it. It meshed with the smell of ashes and burned prometheum. It was a subtle scent. Subtle but undeniable. The sickening mix of blood and fire, bile and tears, suffering and death. Ponies had fought and burned here. The battles had preceded them. The victor was still undetermined, but something in the air reeked of heresy.

“This... isn’t good...” the earth pony articulated.

“Maybe there’s still ponies left...” the unicorn ventured.

“You think?” the pegasus asked.

She did not. None of them did. Deep down, they hoped nopony was still roaming the battlefield.

“I’ll go check.” the pegasus announced suddenly. “If there’s somepony, I’ll see them before they see me, I’m faster than anyone around anyway.”

Her companions tried to dissuade her, but she dismissed the objections. “We have to know.” she affirmed repeatedly.

The earth pony hesitated, then nodded. The pegasus nodded back, then disappeared in the dark. She came back a few dozens of bips later.

“There was nopony,” she declared. “The place’s empty.”

“Any sign of them?” they asked. “None at all?”

Even the ambient obscurity couldn’t hide the flash of pure terror on her face. “... No,” she lied. “Nothing. The place was empty.”

“We oughta leave before somepony comes this way,” finally decided the earth pony.

As a cue, the scanner biped. Several times more than once. Silence fell on the group instantly. Seconds passed and the scanner biped again, just once this time.

“Tell me that was a bug,” the earth pony begged.

“I-I could tell you that but I’m not sure...” the unicorn stammered.

“I don’t want to find out!” interjected the pegasus. “Let’s go!”

“Where to?”

The earth pony hesitated. They could go back to the shadows, but how long would they survive there? There was no food, no water and no ally there, only omnipresent darkness waiting to gobble them all. She didn’t want to live like that.

“Better die in the light of the Empress than to live in the shadow...” she mumbled.

“That’s something your parents said?” the unicorn asked.

“No. I just came out with it.”

“It’s nice,” answered the pegasus.

“Thanks,” she said. Even if she couldn’t quite see it, she could guess the smile in the words of her companions. It gave them a quality that she hadn’t hear since the day they met. “Let’s go.”

They ran deeper into the light as the bips came back in full force. They kept running.

The chase lasted less than a minute. They didn’t even get to escape the obscurity. Before they realised it, they were surrounded and cornered. Even with the remnants of light, they couldn’t see their assailant... but they could hear them, trotting all around them, changing position, circling them like a pack of hungry predators.

The bips had stopped. The machine had finally died.

The runaways tried to hide in the crumbling corner of some house. It offered no real protection, except for their back. It was better than nothing.

The hoofsteps got closer and closer, yet nopony appeared. Even here, the darkness protected its owns.

How long did it last? They had no ideas; even if the machine still worked, the situation would have been too nerve-wracking for any of them to count the signals.

As suddenly as the steps had started, the place became silent. A lone pony appeared, seemingly popping out of nowhere. The figure got closer to the runaways. Close enough for their form to get its own distinct shade of black. The pony was advancing in a non-threatening manner... or rather as if they weren’t concerned by the current situation. As if the unnatural darkness and the war waging was nothing more than moderately bad weather.

The voice that came out of the mysterious pony was feminine, calm and with enough assurance to be on the wrong side of mocking. “Well, well, well. What have we here? Who are you? Deserters?”

“We-we’re not. We... we’re ju-just passing.” they answered.

The voice chuckled loudly. “Guys! They’re not DPs! They’re just fillies!” Laughs erupted all around them. “Come on foals,” the voice said, trying to sound sweet, “get out of your hole. We won’t hurt you.”

“...You swear?” they asked hesitantly.

“Yeah sure!” the voice promised, closing on them. “Why would I lie to you?”

The shadowy pony was a few metres away from them now, close enough discern them: a grey figure on a black canvas. They were big for a pony. It was hard to say whether they wore armour or were naturally bulky, but the size difference was only accentuated by their increasing proximity.

“Come on now foals,” she said extending her arm toward them, impatience getting in the way of the fake kindness, “get out of your hole.”

There was a threatening click.

Agriponaa Pattern Type II autoguns were simple weapons, leaning on the cruder side. A highly explosive mix, contained in a metallic case propelled a bullet down the muzzle toward the target. Coupled with a twenty bullets magazine and a mechanism permitting rapid-fire, it was enough to fulfil its intended purpose: bore enough holes into the enemy to cause their death. It was a straightforward weapon, nowhere as powerful or precise as the more potent weapons available in the Imperium arsenal. However, its simple design and its efficiency made it a choice weapon for militia ponies. Military officers would often joke and motivate the troops by claiming that “the weapon is so simple to use, even a filly could be taught to fire them”.

Security first. Stop breath. Aim. Short bursts.

Five detonations filled the place. Then eight. Then seven more. For brief seconds, the world was bright again. For an instant, the weapon claimed back the light stolen by the heretics.

The first burst hit the arm of the pony, twice, between the hoof and the knee. The gunshots drowned their cries of pain and surprise. The second burst grazed their shoulder and bore into her mane. The last and final rounds burst hit nothing but air and rockcrete.

“What about no?” shouted the unicorn.

“We won’t go with you traitors!” added the pegasus.

The earth pony stayed silent. Gunpowder had already talked for her. Besides, she was busy reloading.

The heretic fell on the ground, still screaming, surprise and pain making her lose her hooving. She crawled out of sight as quickly as possible, cursing and screaming at “those fucking foals”, threatening to “strip their flesh and break their bones”. The other ponies fell silent, their amusement shot dead. Some of them moved quickly, probably taking cover, but not all of them. Some moved slowly towards the trio, dragging the shadows with them as they went.

A new kind of sound now regularly broke the silence. But this one was not reassuring.

“Are we gonna die?” the unicorn asked.

“No...” the gunfilly said. The lie didn’t convince her. She wouldn’t die a liar. “Yeah,” she admitted, gripping her cumbersome gun tighter.

“Th-then let’s kill some!” boasted the pegasus.

“Yeah!” added the unicorn.

The earth pony smiled at this.

She rose her autogun defiantly. She only had twenty bullets and one more charger. She had to make them count.

The screaming pony was gone, but the other heretics were still nowhere to be seen. The silence was back again. In a moment of foalish hope, they wondered if they were gone. A shadow lurked on their right. The autogun fired. Another in front of them. The gun shifted, and more bullet flew in the dark.

The filly cursed and took a few steps back. She’d used at least six bullets for nothing.

The trio slowly retreated as far as the rockcrete corner permitted.

They were going to die. It dawned on the fillies like never before. It was not a faint idea or a possibility in an unforeseeable future; it was a certainty. It was going to happen, right here, in no more than a couple of minutes. They wished they could say something. Do something. Have a final heroic scream of defiance, or die in an epic charge, like in the remembrancers’ stories. But nothing came. Their tongues were stuck on their palate, their hooves were heavy as lead...

They were going to die.

But at least they would die fighting, for the Empress.

As if to answer to their faith and bravery, there was a detonation. This one was not the short burst of guns. It was the thunderous explosion of divine wrath. Then the day dawned again, as bright as ten thousand suns, as powerful as the Empress’ might. It banished the shadows and burned the retinas of all in presence. Eyelids were no protection for such a light. Nothing was. Eyes soaked in tears, the fillies tried to understand what was happening, but their senses were struggling to adapt to the sudden aggression.

Somewhere, lost in the white noise, there were screams and weapon fire.

When their eyes finally recovered, the world around them had been metamorphosed. It was so different if almost felt like another world, another reality. A purer one, blessed by the light. Gone was the darkness and its shadows. Now, dim lumen orbs on antigravs floated around the area, banishing the blackness and its corruption.

Dozens of soldiers, with DP uniforms patrolled around, forming a defensive perimeter. Most of them ignored the foals. A few of them, however, gave them nods of acknowledgement before getting back to their assigned tasks. But they were not the main focus of the fillies.

In the middle of the circle of light were three mares in armours. Their protections were so big and bulky they dwarfed even the soldiers around them. But even without them, they were way bigger than the average pony. No. They were not merely big. They were huge, giants even. They oversaw the perimeter like guardian alicorns, giving orders to the rest of the troop, organising them with efficiency and precision. Even though they couldn’t hear them, the fillies were still in awe...

Are they Spacemares? They’re so... awesome...

The three spacemares noticed the fillies at the same time they were noticed by them. They spoke a few words, then two of them came toward the runaway trio. They were even taller up close. The fillies basked into the sight of the granddaughters of the Empress...

The first Spacemare wore a yellow power armour. She had no wings nor horn, so that made her an earth pony. Or maybe she had lost them in glorious battle? The fillies didn’t know. She was also the only one wearing her helmet. With a swift move, she took it off. A blond mane framed her orange face like a golden aura. With grace, she greeted them. The salute was respectful but not overly so. It was the acknowledgement of an officer to a good soldier from another unit. The fillies fumbled a salute of their own.

“At ease soldiers,” she said. “Who’s the leader of your band?”

Both the pegasus and the unicorn turned toward the earth pony who remained silent.

“We-we have no leader, Lady miss Spacemare.” the filly answered. “We’re just trying to survive.”

“I see. How long have y’all been there in the dark?”

“Since the beginning of the attack Lady Spacemare.”

“And you survived on your own for so long?” She seemed impressed.

“Yeah! Those heretics can’t handle us! We’ve got the Empress on our side!” boasted the pegasus.

“Heh! I like them already.” said the other Spacemare behind the first. She was a pegasus too. She wore a white armour with bulky reactors on her back. Her mane was showing all of the colours of the rainbow and her fur was like the sky on a sunny day. Her posture was way more relaxed, but she still had that aura of raw power around her.

The first Spacemare smiled. “You weren’t afraid?” she asked her earth pony counterpart.

“I... I was, Lady spacemare. But whenever I was afraid, I remembered what my Pa said. ’If you’re afraid, find the biggest gun you can. If you see an enemy, you shoot’em. If you see no enemy, you can hide behind your gun.”

“Your Pa was a wise pony,” the Spacemare said with a nod. She turned toward the last warmare. “Are y’all finished?”

“Almost, darling,” she said, speaking from afar. “I can’t find the distress signal we’ve been receiving.”

“Bad news?” the war pegasus asked.

“Not necessarily... I would attribute it to equipment failure rather than incident. After all, the signal was barely readable in the first place.”

The unicorn spoke timidly. “Hum... Lady spacemare? Is this what you’re looking for?”

The last spacemare joined the conversation at last. Her pace was calm, even, measured, one would dare to say ladylike. Her fur was as white as snow and her mane was a vibrant purple. For a moment, the fillies believed the bulk on her back to be reactors, like her pegasus counterpart, but they soon realised their mistake when the servo-arms deployed to take the scanner. The earth pony and pegasus fillies recoiled at the sight, but not the unicorn. She seemed fascinated by them. The mechanical hands softly enveloped the scanner and withdrew it off the filly’s hooves.

“Did you make this... this?” she asked, her tone unreadable.

“What?” she said, leaving her stupor.

“Who made this contraption?” she said, pointing her hoof at the machine.

“Ah...I did miss... I mean Lady Spacemare,” the unicorn stuttered. “I found it broken on a dead pony and I tried to repair it...” she began to explain. Then, realising that she may have broken some kind of rule, the unicorn quickly tried to defend herself. “I didn’t mean anything by it! I just wanted to help!”

“This... this is... unbelievable...” she stated.

“It is? Really?” the filly asked hopefully.

“Yes. It is positively and unbelievably dreadful.”

“Oh...”

“Still...” she kept on, not even noticing the effect of her words, “it is a wonder that you managed to make it work at all, at such a young age and with so little training an material... it is remarkable.”

The unicorn grinned broadly, the praise worth more than a thousand bits. Applejack chuckled, noticing the exchange and its impact on the fillies.

“Rainbow?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“Could you escort these soldiers here back to the closest fortification? And send them back to the barrack? They need rest and a good meal.”

“Sure.” The giant pegasus grinned. “Follow me, mares.”

The three fillies and the warpony left the area. The spacemare walked calmly into the ruins. The fillies trotted behind her, trying to stay at her level despite the difference in pace.

“How come you didn’t get lost?” the rainbow-maned inquired. “The place’s a maze even on a normal day, and half the buildings are destroyed.”

“I know them by heart.” boasted the scoot of the group.

“All of the streets?”

“All the roads, Lady Spacemares.”

“Fastest road from the southern market to the barracks?” she tested.

“Before noon, it’s easier to take the south road, then...” the small pegasus began.

“Why before noon?”

“At noon, there’s the second miners shift and the roads are crowded so it’s better to take the East road, then shift after the canteens...”

The spacemare stared at her for the entire duration of her explanation, smiling more and more broadly. She was correct. Absolutely correct.

“Nice skills squirt,” she finally commented at the end of the filly’s tirade.

This brought an equally bright smile on her face.

There was another silence. Longer this time. Broken walls and craters marked this part of the town.

“Lady Miss Spacemare?” one of the fillies asked.

“Yeah kid?”

“Are we winning?”

Rainbow Dash hesitated. She could lie to them. These fillies had had a rough time, and they had earned the right for some peace. But this thought died even before it became conscious. Peace was for the weak, and they were not mere fillies, not anymore. They were already soldiers, by necessity AND by deeds. They deserved the truth.

“Not yet. But we’re working on it.”

Part II - Chapter 08 - Initiative

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578PV-01
DP Battalion Barracks, Strategium

“It makes no sense,” Twilight grumbled in frustration. “The entire attack pattern makes no sense.”

This was the third meeting of the sort since Twilight had finally agreed to work with the planetary defence. Even though these reunions had greatly improved the cooperation between the Canterlotian warmare and the Ponyvillians, they had proven increasingly frustrating for the equustode. Despite their combined efforts and their achievements on the battlefield, they were no closer to victory. And it didn’t help that the opposition goals and methods appeared unreadable.

“Well yeah,” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “They’re traitors and heretics. They do dumb things.”

“Not renegade Spacemares!” the equustode answered, frustrated. “Not the Luna’s Bats. This whole invasion was very well prepared. They exploited even the tiniest holes in our defences, successfully took root under your muzzles and even crippled us to the point where we have to fight on equal hoof against an enemy who’s less equipped, trained and numerous than us.” Twilight looked deep into Rainbow Dash’s eyes. “Don’t underestimate them.”

“What’s the problem, equustode?” Fluttershy intervened before Rainbow Dash had a chance to retort.

“This whole attack is a mess. It doesn’t fit their usual modus operandi...” The other warmares gave her curious looks as if wondering how and why she would know so much about this particular foe. She dismissed their obvious concern with a wave of her hoof. “I studied every pattern of attack of every known heretic chapters and sub-chapters,” she informed matter-of-factly. “The Bats form a small chapter. Given their name and armour decoration, they’re probably one of the Daughters of Luna’s successors. They are pirates, experts in sabotage and infiltration. They’re few in number but very efficient at guerilla tactics. They like to weaken their foes and then deliver the killing blow. The attack of the Dusk Squadron has their hoofmark all over it. But this? It’s loud, uncoordinated, chaotic, ineffective...” she shook her head in disbelief. “Something is wrong. Something doesn’t make sense. Not to mention the Tartarus hole above our head.”

“Maybe they still need something for their Resurgence,” Applejack proposed.

’Resurgence’. That’s how they’d decided to call it. Putting a name on it reassured the populace and gave the illusion of control. All in all, a fitting name.

“Like what?” Twilight asked, having already formed a few hypotheses in her mind.

“Well duh!” Pinkamena Diane Pie said, her combat knife standing on perfect equilibrium atop of her hoof. “Blood and souls! That’s what they always want.”

“Do you suggest that they’re using these fights as a fuel for that dreadful thing in the sky?” Rarity spat, her disgust oozed through every word.

“Well yeah...”– The knife got back into its sheath. –” I thought it was obvious.”

All regards converged toward Twilight once again. “That doesn’t fit their ways either,” she muttered, scratching her chin in contemplation. “There is almost no account of them colluding with the Warp entities, and even then, it was arguably due to temporary alliances with other heretical chapters.”

“Maybe they have a new leader?” Fluttershy suggested. “One more willing to follow that path?”

“This is a possibility,” Twilight admitted after a few seconds of reflection. “Such chapters are often subject to brutal changes in leadership or assimilations by more powerful groups. Which mean we cannot rule out the possibility of more sorcery or a larger fleet coming.”

“So that means we need to crush them now.” Rainbow said with force.

Applejack nodded. “Agreed. Even if they are the only threat and the sooner we deal with them, the better.”

“Also, it is unlikely that we’ll see a lot of newcomers with the occult perturbation int the system,” Rarity added. “Trying to translate to the PV system right now would statistically be suicidal.”

Twilight took in all this information and synthesised them as well as possible. “I think the more likely scenario is that they have finally submitted themselves to the ruinous powers. We have a world-size sorcerous event happening right above our head and they’re likely its engineer. I suppose I should not be surprised, ’Treason and heresy are sure roads to madness’, ” she quoted as she added the new information to her mental notes on the Enemy.

“One thing doesn’t make sense, though,” Rainbow Dash said. “Why wait? Why not launch an all-out attack and make as many deaths as possible? Even without counting the battle barge probably full of Spacemares above our heads, they have enough ponies to at least breach our defences. No offence,” she added in direction of Applejack.

“None taken,” she answered.

“If that isn’t enough to do whathever they’re trying to do, I don’t know what on this planet will. So what are they waiting for?”

“The Elements of Harmony,” the equustode let out.

Silence fell on the room. She had taken the risk to tell everything she knew, leaving the mention of the specific details for the Spacemares’ ears only. Such revelations had let them uneasy. While they couldn’t dismiss her words, they were still struggling with their implications.

“Wait,” Rarity interjected. “There’s a non-negligible probability that they might also be looking for them. This weapon’s specifics are unknown, but its impact is supposedly incredible. If they know about it, then the most probable scenarios involve that they want to secure it for themselves. If we assume these scenarios, the reason they’re not committing to the attack is that they don’t know if we have the Elements and they are waiting for us to divulge that information.”

“I thought about it and I think you’re right. It would explain their behaviour and why they’re slowly bleeding us out... They want us to show our hand. Which could imply they either have a way of counteract the Elements or maybe they know something about it that we don’t.”

“It’s not as if we knew a lot about them,” Rainbow Dash snickered.

“Those Elements,” Rarity asked, “what are they? How do they work?”

“I do not know,” Twilight confessed. “The descriptions are vague at best. I know they’re a powerful weapon, composed of six parts, linked to the virtues of the true followers of the Empress. I know they need to be charged somehow, and I know they were powerful enough to banish the Warmistress for thousands of years.”

“You also know their position,” Pinkie Pie said.

“I wish I did... Or I would have already tried to secure them. Something tells me they are in this sector, but–”

“Oh... So that’s why you didn’t try to do take them!” the pink warmare gasped, placing her hoof on top of the other in a ’ha ha!’ manner. “I was wondering why you didn’t even try! It makes perfect sense now!” Pinkamena shook her head many times, agreeing with herself silently. “They’re in the Everfree.”

Five warmares all exclaimed at the same time in bewilderment. “What?”

“The Elements. They’re in the Everfree. PV-00aCS01FPoV03. They’re here.” The mare lounged on the table and typed lazily on the holomap’s keyboard. The two planets, their sun, and the satellite appeared in the holomap for everypony to see.

“H–how did you acquire this information?” Twilight pressed.

“Ponyville System history, volume one, chapter 2: pre-colonisation of the PV system,” she stated. “About one millennium after the Heresy, four decades before the colonisation of PV-01, the personal ship of the Empress went to this system. They stayed thirty-two years then left. It was the last registered flight of the Phoenix Rebirth, so it caught my attention. Considering how much the Empress seems to care about this system and the fact that the Resurgence is happening right here, I figured it was obvious,” she shrugged.

“Oh...”

Of all the places to look... Twilight chastised herself.

Rainbow Dash was the first to the one to express out loud what everypony else was thinking. “Okay, that’s great that they came barking at the wrong door, but how do we get there to banish the big bad mare if she comes back?”

Again, all gazes turned toward the lavender unicorn.

“At the moment, those are just supposition. We have to find a way to get to PV-00aCS01FPoV03, but doing so and leave the planet defenceless would be foolish. As long as the Warmistress return is unconfirmed, Ponyville is our priority.” Applejack nodded and smiled contently at that, but the unicorn didn’t notice. “We must take back their advantage before anything. Applejack, Rainbow Dash,” she said, looking at the two Horsetartes. “How are things concretely?”

“Yeah about that... I’ve gotta call back, my pilots. Flying is fun and all, but we’re pretty much useless. We can’t see anything, even with our auspice and thermal vision. And the communication’s shitty at best,” she grumbled.

“The reports keep coming,” Applejack added. “Thanks to Pinkie Pie and Rainbow, we have secured a good defensive perimeter. You and Fluttershy have successfully evacuated the population. We were planning on getting them cultists out of hiding but–” she hesitated a moment before finally cursing “– I lost several good ponies out there. I swear this damn darkness is helping them.”

“I think so too.” Twilight hesitated a moment before saying the words. “There’s something unnatural with this obscurity. I mean, more than just the fact the perturbation hide the sun. There is something in it. Something malevolent. I think –” She hesitated again, longer this time. “– I think Pinkamena is right and that it feeds of death and suffering.” It was painfully obvious that the darkness was somehow linked to the phenomenon. If the pink warmare was correct, and she likely was, killing the cultists would only fuel the phenomenon further and capturing them would be way too dangerous not to mention hardly feasible. “I think we need to find a way to get rid of it before we fight the cultist.”

The Spacemares nodded gravely one after the other.

“That makes our course of action even more difficult,” Rarity chimed in.

“We cannot let those moon worshippers bleed us like that any longer. We need to hit them hard at once,” Applejack intervened.

“Yeah, but without air support, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

One after the other, the warmares of Ponyville started to elaborate plans to bait and eliminate the enemy before another pointed out its flaws and proposed another plan.

Twilight listened to the spacemares discussion distractedly. No matter what they would come up with, there would be a heavy price to pay. The situation was objectively bad. The enemy had the initiative, preparation and supernatural help. As long as they did not commit to a full assault, the Dulce Pomum barracks were their strongest piece on the board, but Spacemares and warp magic were close matches.

“No sign of the Bats?” Twilight inquired, cutting short to a burgeoning strategic dispute.

“None so far...” Applejack started.

“But they are here,” Fluttershy stated calmly.

“Yep they’re here,” Pinkie Pie chimed in. “I’ve seen none of them, but I think they’re somehow directing the cultists... or at least giving pointers.”

“What makes you say that?” the golden warrior asked, more curious than unbelieving.

“I sense it,” Fluttershy explained cryptically. “Their mark is everywhere.”

“Yeah... also, enemy troops are a tad too good at avoiding my traps. It’s as if somepony had told them about half of my surprise in advance. I mean, rude.”

The information spiralled in her head, colliding to create new ideas for her to save this world. Distractedly, she turned toward Rainbow Dash and Rarity. “Okay, so we have to get rid of the darkness and root them out. How do we go to PV... to the Everfree after that?”

“I’m afraid this will be equally hard, equustode,” the techmare evaluated.

“Yeah,” Rainbow agreed, resting her massive body on the holodeck. “Even if we found a vessel still able to lift off, I’m pretty sure the Bats will not let us get out of here. And even if they did, they would probably follow us to the Element, then blast us off. Two words: bad idea,” she concluded, making an “X” with her arms.

“I hear you, but let’s suppose we could get out of the planet and somehow manage not to be followed, how can we reach the Everfree?”

“Any vessel would do, but ideally, a warp capable ship would bring us here in a matter of minutes, rather than hours or days, not mentioning the added bonus of not being followed and destroyed during the travel.” Rarity thought a moment about the reality of warp travel and the very presence of a miniature warp cataclysm in the system. “Forget I said anything. It is almost equally dangerous.”

“Do we have any warp capable ships?”

“Well apart from your vessel, I suppose we have whatever remains of the Dusk squadron,” she informed, glancing at the pegasus.

“We lost two ships to the phenomenon. Two others are not responding. Of the remaining ones, one left the system and the last one is on the other side of the planet.”

A path, a link between those elements started to form in her mind. There was a way to achieve all this. It would not be easy; in truth, it would be incredibly hard, and there would be several critical points that could jeopardize the whole operation; but it was worth a shot. “What happened to the starport?” she asked.

“A moment,” Rarity answered. She stood motionless for a few seconds, her eyes unblinking, her expression unfocused. She came back to her sense roughly five seconds later. “A fire started two hours and twenty minutes after the beginning of the cosmic perturbation,” she informed. “The probability of an active act of sabotage is overwhelming, but the damages are likely minor. There was not any more notable activity in that sector after that.”

“Just fire? No further destruction or anything?”

The techmare gathered more data before answering. “No indication of anything of the sort... If I may inquire, why do you wish to know about it?”

“Because,” Twilight said, as she started to draw on the holomap, “I’ve got a plan.”

☀☀☀

Southern quarter of Ponyville, eight hours later

Careful planning had made way for the chaos of battle. Disorienting flashes of light illuminated the battlefield. Even benefiting from her retinal display and her gene-crafted perks, Applejack struggled to make sense of the situation. As if the smoke, dust and ashes were not enough, something in the darkness hindered the electronics and dulled the senses to the point that even she suffered from it. She pitied the regular soldiers who had to face the enemy in these odds. Still, they were trained for it. She had trained them for it.

Her communicator came alive, spitting more static than words.

“Do you... –ceive... go thro–...?”

“I hear you. Identification soldier.”

“Fourth here...” Static drowned communication for a few seconds. Applejack cursed at the device. “... in position Sergeant, but we require... –port.”

The fourth was lead by Strudel however the voice was not his, which was not a good sign. Yet, despite the static and distortion, this voice was familiar. It took her a few seconds to identify and a few more to remember the name. Bumpkin. Private Bumpkin.

“What’s your situation Bumpkin?”

More static answered her. It took a few seconds for the voice to pierce it.”... –press mane... repeat, auspice dead... chain of comm–... broken. Probably surrounded... support.”

“Got you Bumpkin. Gather the troop and get to cover. Keep contact.”

She repeated the message two more times, making sure most of her orders came through. She analysed the flow of battle. All things considered, the fight was going well. The perimeter was to be secured soon according to Rainbow Dash’s repots. The losses were on the acceptable side, given the circumstances.

Applejack didn’t have to think about it for long. She gave a few orders and her troops started to move as one coordinated mass. She could not see it, but she could feel it through her other senses, in the small changes in the battlefields. The thunder of battle would grow distant, closer or fall silent altogether like a storm orchestra; buildings would crumble in rapid succession; vehicles would deliver their steady flow of death or retrieve ponies... The combat zone was shifting. Her trap was forming. All it needed was an extra push to make sure her preys would fall for it. She activated her communicator once more.

“Equustode, can you assist me?”

☀☀☀

The communicator crackled back into silence. Twilight moved toward her objective, her eidetic memory already working on the best road to reach her new destination. To fight with a purpose had cleared her mind. She had a goal, now. She had an enemy to fight, objectives to reach, ponies to lead and protect. It was enough to give her focus. For now, at least.

They had fought in the southeastern quarter of town for hours now. Twilight and the spacemares had been chaperoning the battalion, assisting them wherever and whenever they needed it. Although it wasn’t Twilight’s plan – considering Applejack’s superior knowledge of the terrain and forces, Twilight had temporarily put her in charge – she had to admit it worked. They had turned defeats into victories and victories into one-sided slaughter.

The equustode ran into the supernatural darkness. In the distance, she could hear the fight getting more intense. She would be into position soon. For the umpteenth times in a few hours, she and the Spacemares would shape the battlefield to their liking. It felt good to be in control, at last, to be part of the moving force. Yet she was not completely satisfied. A nagging thought still plagued her mind: it was still not enough.

The golden warrior got into position. Gunshots and explosions revealed the battlefield in a myriad of static pictures. Injured soldiers. An old barrack. Dozens of heretics rushing forward. The battle was grim and desperate yet Twilight smiled at the display. Those small ponies had shown an impressive amount of courage and dedication in the time they’ve fought together. However, there were odds even bravery would not win against. It was only a matter of time before the enemy gave assault. In fact, the traitors could have won a long time ago, if not for their nonsensical prayers and rituals.

Heresy is the root of its demise, Twilight mentally quoted before she teleported into the darkness.

Teleportation had always been an invaluable battle tool, for obvious reasons, but it was not without restrictions. In addition to the fact that it was mostly limited to unicorns - and only those gifted enough to learn the correct spells – it required fine-tuned accuracy and a relatively controlled environment. In summary, the messier the battlefield, the more dangerous the teleportation. History was riddled with tales of soldiers who injured themselves, died, or worse, for using it at the wrong time. Even after the development of artificial teleportation, it was rarely used amongst regular forces. Twilight had the prudent confidence born of decades of trials, errors and survival. So far, the supernatural obscurity had made long-distance jumps too unsafe to be considered. But now she was close enough.

The purple light illuminated the darkness and flashed out.

Soon, the screams of the heretic took a very different inclination. Soon the whole place was aware of the new force in presence. The entrenched soldiers noticed too. The sight of the golden warrior lifted their morale and rekindled their fighting spirit. The name of the Empress echoed in the darkness.

“Twilight Sparkle to Fourth, do you receive?” she tried as she cut a traitor in half.

The answer came loud and clear, as though the shadows lacked the strength to hijack the signal at such a close distance. “Lady Twilight Sparkle,” the soldier said with relief, “we hear you.”

“Get ready to evacuate.”

“Understood, my Lady” the soldier answered. “May… may I inquire about you?”

“I am going to open the way for you. Then I’m going to clean up the filth.”

“Acknowledged,” the mare acknowledged. To her amusement, Twilight could hear the soft “bonk” of her hoof hitting her helmet through the vox. There was a pause, then the communication opened again. “G–good hunt, Lady Twilight.”

“Thanks,” the equustode answered before she cut the communication.

She had work to do.

With alacrity and efficiency, Twilight carved a path into the cultist, cutting and splicing, splitting the group in two, forcing them to make way. Soon, the very sight of her became as potent a tool as her blade. The cultist’s cohesion was faltering by the second, a chasm was growing in their rank where the two halves of their forces pulled, away from the golden death.

Exactly what the warmare wanted.

“Now!” she ordered, her voice booming, loud to be heard even without the vox.

The soldiers charged all weapons firing. Already weakened by the harassing attacks of the warmare, the children of the Moon had no other solution than giving way. Those too slow or weak to do so were trampled on, shot, sliced or any, painful, combinations of the three. In the end, it took less than a minute for the guardponies to leave the area and less than two to get out of the reach of their assailants. Deprived of their goal, fighting a superior and elusive opponent, the cultists started to remember the value of their own life. What remained of their cohesion shattered.

But Twilight and the spacemares were not done with them yet.

Rainbows communication rune flashed before she even thought of asking for her. “Rainbow Dash?”

“Lead them toward the big road on your right,” the White Scar directed her.

Twilight nodded and calmly did what was asked of her. She could guess the presence of the warmare, high above her head, scooting the battlefield, ready to strike whenever she was needed or to direct the loyalists’ forces where they were needed.

Slowly but surely, she oriented them, and just as the paleo-sheep of old Canterlot, they followed the path chosen for them. They ran blindly, not noticing the increasing amount of buildings surrounding them, nor the increasing number of their own being lead in the same road. They fled the purple light and the golden death it brought into the narrowing path offered to them. The road became more and more crowded, those who slowed down were forced into compliance or trampled on by their “comrades“. Rather kill a friend than facing the equustode behind.

They fled, unaware of the death row they were already into. They ran... until the buildings exploded.

Fire, rockrete and metal hit them from everywhere. Among those who survived the initial shock, most of them were crushed to death, either by the rest of the debris, by other victims or by the lucky ones who were still able to run. Several dozens of ponies had entered the jaw of the trap. A fraction of that survived. Those who had been saved by their lack of speed died quickly by the blade of the gold-clad unicorn. The other, on the other side of the rubble, kept running, disoriented and deafened.

They never heard the thunderous rumble of a heavy bolter firing at them.

☀☀☀

The lavender light flashed, illuminating the carnage that had just taken place. Applejack didn’t turn to face Twilight. Instead, she kept reloading and checking her gear. “Thank you kindly for your assistance, equustode,” she said with an even tone.

“Thank me when we’ve won,” the unicorn retorted, more abruptly than she wanted.

“That I’ll do,” the Spacemare answered calmly, putting her weapon at her side.

The two genetically engineered ponies stayed silent. In the distance, the incessant brouhaha of fighting was slowly fading. This battle was their win, but it was not enough for the unicorn. Twilight bit her lips in frustration. “My apologies,” she finally conceded. “All this waiting frustrates me. That was masterfully executed, Sergeant.”

Applejack smiled and nodded. “No apologies needed.” She started to trot toward the position taken by the rescued guardsponies. Twilight followed her without a word. “T’is a matter of minutes now,” she tried to reassure the equustode. “Rarity’s working on it. You’ve seen her work, she’s not the kind to slack.”

“I know,” Twilight sighed after a time. “I just wish we could just do something more decisive.”

“We are, equustode. But you can’t defend a fortress before it’s built.”

She knew that well enough. But the void looming above her head and the darkness wrapping the battlefield were getting on her nerves. She wanted to do more. Only Rarity’s work prevented her from doing so. She had no sooner finished the thought that the Techmare voice was on her communicator.

“My work is... –ost done. You... safely... to the next ph–... the plan.”

“Acknowledged. Thanks, Rarity.”

“I am mer– ... –oing my par– … –stode.”

Twilight turned toward Applejack, the hint of a grin on her face. “Give the order. We’re going to the next phase.”

☀☀☀

The barracks had seen heavy activity in the past hours. Troops had been prepared for a sortie and half of the transports available had been refuelled. Some of them had been loaded under the supervision of the Spacemares. Their cargo had been kept a secret, which had fuelled many speculations. Some said it was Mayor Mare and the high notables of the planet, fleeing the battles. Other argued that it must have been some kind of weapon to bring the traitors down. Some whispered that the vehicles were filled with secret documents the equustode was here to retrieve.

Only one thing was certain. Things were about to change.

The cohort had left the barrack in neat order. Several hundred of ponies had walked in tight formation, flanking the heavily protected vehicles. The regular steps of the soldiers coupled with the roaring of the engines had echoed in the ruins like the growl of an ancient, awakening beast. It had sent tremors through the ground, making the most fragile constructs crumble into further ruination. The heavy weapons mounted both atop of them and on their sides scanned the obscurity with zeal. There was no target in sight. The cultists had crawled back into the shadows. For now.

The cohort advanced in the darkness., regrouping with any stronghold they had established so far. Emptying them and adding the present forces to the moving armies. Each step they took, they grew stronger, feeding off defensive posts and growing as much, adding more gun, ponies and equipment to the mix. The message was clear. Ponyville would not stay passive in the conflict. They were ready to fight back.

When it reached its penultimate stop, it was at least a thousand ponies strong and counted thirty-one vehicles. While still a fraction of the forces in presence on the planet, it was by far the most important troop movement so far on both side of the conflict. Yet despite such a display of force, nopony felt fully reassured. There was an ominous feeling in the air.

Something big was coming. Something big and nasty, still hidden in the obscurity.

☀☀☀

Cloudsdale was almost empty. The entirety of its fighters and bombers had left the structure leaving only a skeleton crew to manoeuvre the flying fortress. The objective of the mission had not been revealed, not even to the pilots. The only instruction had been to “fly high” and “be ready“. They didn’t mind. Rainbow Dash had already forced them to work with less than that. So they flew high and stood ready. The darkness below and around them stole any chance to see the fights, let alone participate in them. Nonetheless, they obeyed.

Sometimes, Rainbow Dash would jump from plane to plane, leaving the formation to dive closer to the ground and give precious information to the other Spacemares but rarely to fight. She had accepted her role as a scout without complaining. Much. The need of the many outweighed her personal preferences. But she and the pilots of Cloudsdale were ready. The equustode had prepared something big, and the enemy would likely react violently to it. And when it would happen, they would be ready.

☀☀☀

As she waited for the incoming troops, Twilight looked at the starport with something akin to nostalgia. It was a big cylinder of plasteel overlooking the town its imposing height. It was a simple thing, for Ponyville had never needed for a dense starship transit. It felt as if it had been years since she left her ship to be greeted by the planetary governess. It looked like it too. For the umpteenth time, she wondered how much of this could have been prevented if she’d only been more aware. Pinkamena’s voice brought her back to reality.

“They’re here, equustode.”

“Good.”

Twilight was slowly progressing inside the building while the soldiers made the position defensible and cleaned the rumble to permit easy access. From time to time, she would spot Pinkie Pie, marking the place and searching for flaws in the building for later use. Twilight tried not to pry too much into it. She knew how effective the pink warmare was, that was enough.

With an apprehensive sigh, Twilight penetrated the higher levels in search for the remains of the Spes Reliquus

The ship was still here albeit darken by grime and burn marks. At first glance, it was almost intact. Though the fire, explosions and debris had damaged the hull, it seemed superficial.

So far, so good.

She came closer, wary of ambushes. She activated the opening system from afar, using her magic instead of her hoof. The door hiccuped several times before opening completely. A monotonous voice greeted her, through the vox system.

“You are on the Property of equustode Twilight Sparkle of Canterlot. Identify yourself.”

“Equustode Twilight Sparkle of Canterlot,” she answered, before delivering the series of numbers and letters forming her identification code, for good measure.

“Welcome back, Mistress Twilight Sparkle,” said the servitor, at last getting into view.

He bowed deeply toward her as she passed him. She ignored the lobotomised pony and went deeper inside. He followed her at a respectful distance, awaiting instructions.

“Summarize what happened after I left, in chronological order, grouped by priority, leave the trivial,” she ordered.

The servitor stayed silent a moment. Twilight could almost feel his brain organising the events to fit her demands. “First. Departure of Lady equustode Twilight Sparkle. Second. Incendiary events taking place into the spaceport, shutting down of ventilation systems to prevent damages, death of three servitors due to malfunctions and lack of oxygen, superficial damages on the hull, activation of defensive protocols. Third. End of incendiary event, reactivation of ventilation systems. Fourth. Return of Lady Twilight Sparkle,” he enumerated.

Twilight nodded. “Send the word to the other servitors to gather, then I want you to give a precise damage report to techmare Rarity of the Iron Hooves. Consider her, as well as Fluttershy of the Blood Alicorns, Applejack of the Imperial Hooves, Rainbow Dash of the White Scar and Pinkie Pie of the Death Spectre as authority figures. Their orders priority is to be the highest beside my very own.”

“I comply, Lady Twilight.”

Rarity and Fluttershy came in a few minutes later. The juggernaut carried the heart of one of the town generator, under the supervision of the techmare. The piece was half as big as the entombed warrior. They were followed by a procession of DPs, carrying diverse equipment and salvages from the city. The soldiers watched the feat of strength in respectful awe, still unsure about what was happening or how this would prove relevant to their survival.

The servitor made their assessment to Rarity and, as they’d hoped, the damages had been superficial. All the vitals were operational.

“Perfect,” Rarity let out with a satisfied smile.

“How much time will you need to complete your work?” Twilight inquired.

“Primary estimation : one hundred and eighty-seven minutes given complete concentration,” she whispered, her mind already on the task.

Twilight nodded silently, leaving the techmare to her task. Now they only had to wait.

☀☀☀

Time is malleable, and its perception even more so. In the unnatural night, for the soldiers standing guard, it stretched out infinitely. Training and the threat of death were pretty good incentives to be vigilant, but time, time eroded alertness, time corroded consciousness… time destroyed worlds. The warmares were immune to such things, but they knew simple ponies were not. The first hour had been busy enough to trump this feeling. Putting in place barricades; driving the heavy carriers into a defensive position, creating a wall of guns and metal between the soldier and Ponyville supernatural darkness; tend to the injured and reassess the chains of command... all of this had made waiting bearable. Now things had settled. Now, a relative sense of security had fallen on them. A sense of security they knew was fake even as it sunk into their mind. There was no safety in the darkness.

Everypony knew death was coming.

It arrived, shrouded in darkness, crawling silently. It reached the tanks forming the outer layers of the defences, a multitude of weapons drawn. Death was there, upon the soldier, ready to reap its first preys.

But death is a fickle mistress.

A sparkle of purple light dissipated the darkness and death reaped its prize. The assassins lurking in the dark died as silently as they had arrived.

“Brace yourself!” Applejack ordered, snapping everypony to attention. “They’re coming.”

As if summoned by her words, hundreds of ponies in rags, suddenly popped out of the shadows from all side, way closer to the defenders that they should have been, like spawned from the very obscurity.

The soldiers opened fire.

For a time, it stopped the stream of shadowy figures. They fell in huge numbers, reaped by a barrage of projectiles. But just as the waves of a rising tide, the cultists always came back more plentiful. Stronger, faster... closer. The controlled barrage soon gave way to non-stop, uncoordinated, desperate, automatic fire. The heretics could not and would not be stopped. Time stretched out. Seconds became hours; minutes became eternities.

There was a moment of eerie pause as both groups faced each other, close enough to touch but still locked in one-sided massacre. And then, all Tartarus broke loose. Enraged ponies hit the rampart with the force of a tsunami. They climbed on the vehicles, killing the ponies standing on them, making their weapons useless. On some parts, they even toppled the heavy transporters, crushing the soldiers they were supposed to protect.

All pretence of order disappeared, drown in a savage melee. Blades, knives spiked horseshoe and bayonets collided. The defenders had training and iron walls on their side, but a fanatical force drove the cultists, and each one that bit the dust was instantly replaced by a fresh, screaming one. This was not a battle the DP Battalion could win. They could only delay the inevitable. Slowly but surely, the loyalist forces were losing ground.

“How much longer, Rarity?” Twilight pried.

“Everytime you ask the question, equustode, I have to reallocate precious resources to answer,” the techmare retorted, before shutting the communication off.

“What?”

“She’s telling you to let her work in peace, equustode,” Applejack scolded. “I told you: she knows what she’s doing.”

“I know, but this fight is everything we didn’t want in the first place.”

Rarity’s channel opened for a brief moment, long enough for the unicorn to deliver her message. “I’m sending Fluttershy your way,” the unicorn informed. “Prepare the retreat in exactly nineteen minutes.”

“Thank the Empress.”

“Allow me to join the fray,” Fluttershy vox-murmured.

“Our battles are yours, sister,” the earth warmare answered. “Especially the left flank if you catch my drift.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The cohesion and morale of the defender were slowly wavering as waves after waves of heretics came crashing against them, taking more and more of them each time.

Hope appeared, entombed in heavy adamantium plates. The Dreadnought broke the line of defenders like a blade leaving its scabbard, and in her wake ponies felt the light of the Empress shining above them once again. By the time she reached the heretics, the soldiers fought with renewed vigour. “For the Empress,” said a calm and soft, vox amplified voice, “maintain the lines. This planet needs you.”

For a time, it was enough. For a time, the loyalist contained the attack. With the support of the warmares, hope came back, and the impossible seemed in reach. Then the Bats appeared.

In a sickening echo of Fluttershy’s arrival, they enticed screams of fanatical joy, praises and prayers to the perverse entities of the Warp. There was a full squad of them. Clad in night blue power armour, wearing skulls of fallen champions among other sinister trophies. They were slowly progressing toward the barricade. In their wake, the traitors gathered, aggregated, growing into a critical mass.

“Pinkamena, if you’re here, that would be a pretty good time to take them down,” Twilight said.

“Already on it, equustode” the ambush planner answered.

The shot pierced the night. Something red and sinister pulsed. A nearby cultist got caught in a carmine magical grip and found itself in the trajectory of the shot. The bullet penetrated the body, crushing flesh, muscles and organs in its wake. The pony died a painful and slow death as his nervous system saturated his brain with pain. The unfortunate meat shield bled to death, spasming and sobbing pathetically, still trapped in the red veil. The leader of the Bat smiled at the defenders. It was impossible to discern her feature from such a distance, especially in such concealing darkness, especially hidden behind so many cultists, but everypony could somehow feel her amusement at the futile attempt.

“Damn!” the sniper whistled. “She’s good!”

Twilight promptly reacted. “Ready yourself! They’re–”

The rest of her sentence was never to be heard. Like sanity, it drowned and died in the shriek. It was a focused, deafening thing, coming from mouths that were no longer equine and amplified dozens of times by vox systems. It was a vocalised weapon that shook the bones and rattled the mind. The Bats shrieked, for what sounded like hours. Then as suddenly as they started, they stopped.

Silence fell on the battlefield as the Spacemares walked forward, surrounded by their endless waves of cannon fodders, not an uncontrolled rave anymore, but a focused and driven assault. Meanwhile, the loyalist’s infantry suffered the aftermath of deafness. Their struggle was greater than ever. Even the Spacemares could barely contain all the troops coming their way. Applejack tried to focus her fire on the advance of the renegades, but the unicorn that led them pulled cultists after cultists, using their body as protection until their carcasses were too worn out to serve. Then, she’d pick out another one.

The Bats steadily moved, unfazed by the surrounding carnage or the explosive round raining on them. The more they advanced, the more cultists crashed on the barricades. Even Fluttershy and Twilight did little to qualm the endless tides. Soon the renegade leader was close enough for everypony to contemplate her feature. She was a massive unicorn, even for Spacemares standard. She was even taller than Twilight and stood out of the throng of cultist like a rock above rough waters. She didn’t wear any helmet, as if daring the followers of the Empress to hit her. Under the weak illumination of her magic, her purple coat looked as dark as wine, while her short, red mane had the colour of coagulated blood. Her power armour was decorated with crude depictions of her battle prowesses and five skulls – two of them Horsetartes’ – dangled at the end of metal chains.

She looked down on everypony. She opened her vox once again. This time no shriek came out of it. It was a calm and powerful voice, but beautiful in a sense. The voice of a cruel ruler very conscious of its authority.

“Soldiers of this pathetic world,” she said, taking nonchalantly another cultist as a meat shield, “today, we claim back this world for the Warmistress. Submit–” two beautifully crafted power axes flew on both sides of the mare. “– and die.”

Neither Twilight nor Applejack, not even Pinkamena noticed what was happening in time. Maybe had the darkness grown too thick for even the Spacemares to pierce. Maybe it was the aftereffect of the shriek that had distracted them. In any way, the followers of the Warmistress had successfully drawn all attention to them and the loyalists simply did not notice the gunners surrounding their position. When they did the grenades and rockets were already flying. Barricade, ponies and vehicles exploded in a mesh of flesh, rock and metal.

The defence crumbled in seconds. Applejack did the only thing she could do: call the retreat. The DP soldiers did not need to be asked twice. They fled inside the building as fast as possible, haunted by the Bats mocking laugh.

☀☀☀

High above the battlefield, hidden in the clouds, a cyan pegasus’ very limited patience was running very thin. Having to wait while the other fought was frustrating enough. Listening to fragments of vox messages didn’t help one bit. If anything, it was edging her. But she had waited because she had been ordered to. But now… now she had a hard time staying put. Not after that… thing. Not after the vox had died down. She needed to act. She couldn’t just ignore it.

“Ivory, I need you.”

“Why do I feel like it won’t be as pleasant as it sounds?” her second in command answered immediately.

“Take your mind out of the gutter. How low can you dive again?”

“How low do you need me to dive?”

“I want to see what’s below.”

“I can do that. However, I must point out that it’s suicidal,” the pilot deadpanned.

“Stop complaining and be ready to plunge.”

“Aren’t we supposed to wait for their signal?”

“How can we know if the vox doesn’t even work? Now stop complaining and carry me down there.” She opened the channel for her whole unit. “Everypony, be ready. I sense that things will get even more interesting than we thought. And don’t get killed. First one to die owes me one hundred wing pushups. That goes for you too, Ivory.”

“Damn it. Now I really don’t want to die.”

☀☀☀

“Pinkamena cut the flow of cultists!” the equustode had ordered.

Pinkamena snickered at the thought. Silly slowpokuustode... I was already on it!

She wasn’t blind to the situation. The casualties kept pilling on their side at an alarming rate, and Twilight and Applejack struggled to organise a proper line of defence. They would lose this battle unless she did something about it. Fast.

Pinkie had understood what was required of her instantly. So in the unnatural night, she lurked, a shadow stepping amid the enemy, sliding through the smallest interstice in their attention. By the time their senses registered her presence, she was already gone, no more than the trace of a memory.

Pinkie moved, looking for suitable targets. Someone was directing the cultists. Someone other than the Spacemares. They were too important for such a menial task, which mean there were ponies under them, doing the hard work. She scanned the area and quickly spotted potential targets. A small group of ponies, wearing defaced DP uniforms… Turncoats, by their look and posture. Exactly what she was looking for. They were standing apart from the rest, unwary, unprepared. There was an army between them and the enemy after all. What could go wrong?

Pinkie unsheathed her combat blade and rushed in.

They died in silence, swallowed by a whole new kind of shadow. Death jumped from one to the other, interrupting sentences, cutting tracks short… Pinkamena was never seen, never even guessed. She just happened and somepony died.

There were fifteen traitors when she had entered the room. Only one still breathed when her presence got noticed.

The former DP stood, frozen in place, trying to comprehend what had happened. Why were the others dead? Why was there a spacemare here? What happened? His brain fumbled, unable to go past those questions. The spacemare was coming. She was close now. Close enough to touch. She leaned in, watching him with a big smile on her face. He could see his reflection on her cold blue eyes. He could see death. Time slowed. The spacemare opened her mouth. She leaned closer, her muzzle next to his ear. She whispered one, and only one, word.

“Bouh.”

His flight-or-flight response finally kicked in. His body jumped forward as if propelled by giant strings.

The spectre of death let him run. If survived, he could spread the virus of fear to the other traitors, slowing them down, gnawing at their will and resolve… if he survived. She had other concerns anyway. She needed to get ready for the rest of the enemy forces.

She had some surprises for them.

☽☾

The children of the Moon entered the lair of the traitors in bulks, as growling masses of ponies in rags, their fur covered in blasphemous paintings, their mouth filled with heretical songs. They were ready to kill for their imprisoned mistress, ready to sacrifice the followers of the Sun Goddess.

They despised the traitors who lead them. The former soldiers somehow thinking themselves better than them, better than the true believers. The cultists accepted their order out of pragmatism rather than respect. The former DPs knew the art of war and knew where to strike. This made them useful. For now. When the Warmistress would come back from exile, they would show them who was truly in charge. But for now, they would listen and obey.

The children of the Moon entered the lair of the traitor, expecting orders and direction. What the found were explosives and promethium.

The place filled with fire, killing them all, then exploded in turn. The destruction spread from the corridors, swelling to the nearby rooms. Already weakened by the fires, several supporting beams collapsed, taking the offices and storage spaces above with them trapping whole sections of ponies, making passages unusable or unsafe... In a matter of minutes, a dam was formed, containing the steady flow of heretics and protecting the retreat of the Ponyville forces.

Pinkamena watched with pride as the enemy died and panicked.

“It’s done equustode.”

☀☀☀

Given the circumstances, the DP battalion was remarkably organised. Once again, Twilight couldn’t help but admire those small ponies. She realised she unconsciously expected nothing but mediocrity from non-augmented. They were frail of body and mind… and yet… they were still fighting. Once Pinkamena had given them a chance at fighting back, they had taken it. Even against such overwhelming odds they were still fighting and keeping some modicum of ground. Whether it was due to Applejack’s training or personal virtue of the inhabitants of this planet, it was still something deserving of praises. Little by little, a defensive circle took form around the Spes Reliquus. The Imperial Hoof, and the autocannon of the ship that still functioned sprayed bullets on the miscreants that came into range.

“Rarity, I hope you’re finished soon, or else you’ll have a way bigger interruption than us complaining!” Applejack growled as she reloaded her weapon. If Rarity’s last estimate had been accurate – they always were – they still had five long minutes to endure before the unicorn would be finished with her device. Long enough for the Bats to arrive and wreak havoc. Long enough the cultist to surround them and start a massacre. “I wouldn’t say no to a little stroke of luck about right now.”

“Somepony asked for a miracle?” came a voice from above. “Don’t worry, your friendly Spacemare Rainbow Dash is here!”

A colourful meteor fell in the thickest of the fray, sending them flying and tumbling afar, quickly followed by the punitive fire of a Marauder bomber. Screams of pain mixed with cheers of joy erupted, to the great pleasure of Rainbow Dash.

“We didn’t expect you so soon...” Fluttershy stated, not even commenting on the pegasus bombastic entrance. “Not that we mind.”

“Yeah I had a feeling you’d need a little help,” she answered matter-of-factly while joining the fray.

“Just admit that you were too bored to wait,” the orange mare taunted.

“Okay, also that,” Rainbow Dash admitted.

“And not single word of appreciation for the driver...” came the voice of the white stallion in her communicator.

“Well done Ivory,” the cyan pegasus said. “you were not too lame.”

“I’ll take it,” the pilot sighed as he low-passes above the cultists once again.

Applejack had no illusion. Even Rainbow Dash couldn’t reverse the odds. But this was maybe the small edge they needed to survive this.

☀☀☀

Far inside the ship, Rarity could not hear the fights, but the vibrations that transferred through the hull were enough for her to get an idea on what happened. It didn’t take a genius to understand that the situation was even more urgent than previously assessed. The techmare was not as cold as her attitude let on. She knew very well that the ponies outside were giving their life for her to finish her work, and it infuriated her to no end. Her very work was to make sure as many ponies as possible survived. Her very work was to make sure the fight would be inclined in their favour. She could not keep up like this. Too many lives were lost due to her flaws.

She quickly checked her work so far. The Field was almost operational for what they intended. She could probably make it work now if she ignored safety protocols. It would put the machine spirit under undeserved stress. This was converse to her vows. Unless she actively soothed it and tended its wounds on the fly.

She computed the data in her mind. Probability of success: 67.3%. Unacceptable, she judged. However, if I ignore the security protocol and go beyond the recommended optimum usage for my equipment, I should see positive results. She recalculated her odds with those new parameters. Probability of success: 82.4% and logarithmical increase through time. This... this is acceptable.

Rarity stopped for an – inefficient – second. Her mechanical limbs got into position.

“Okay Rarity,” the Iron Hoof let out in an unusually equine moment, “you can do it.”

Then her mechadendrites started to dance on the machine at the speed of thoughts.

☀☀☀

The low thrum took everyone by surprise. Some even stopped fighting as the noise became stronger. They could not see the Geller Field activate, but they could see its effect on the world around them. Slowly, the darkness receded, evaporated even, leaving only tendrils of black smokes. It recoiled, creating a safe bubble surrounded by smoke-like blackness. The cultists hesitated. Free from the unnatural veil, the soldiers fought with renewed vigour. But this was only the beginning.

Rainbow Dash had waited hours for this moment. The moment when she’d unleash death from the sky.

“Cloudsdale!” she screamed in the now-fully-functioning vox. “Time to kill those bastards!”

Answering her call, death came from the sky.

So far supernatural obscurity and guerilla warfare had deprived Ponyville of its cohesion and air superiority. Now that the enemy was deprived of both advantages it would suffer the rage of Cloudsdale.

“Renegade of the Luna’s Bats,” Twilight screamed at the face of the enemy. “Today, we send you back to the void, you and your damn mistress!”

And they proceeded to do just that. Without the foul effects of the Warp, without the security it provided them, with DP once again able to operate as a united army, with the air support once again on their side... victory was just a matter of time. Not even the renegade Spacemares could overturn it.

And they didn’t. Ironically, it was Cloudsdale’s forces who did.

In the coming decades, the crash would haunt Rainbow, forever wondering if she’d leave a faithful pilot to die by negligence or worse... if she’d let a traitor live in their midst to steal the victory from them. She would never see the Spacemare teleporting inside the plane. She would never hear the pilot final gurgles of warning. She would never see the Spacemare direct the ship and teleport back. She would only see the bomber go lower and lower in a collision course with the Spes Reliquus, she would only hear the screams of panic of the ponies getting crushed by it. She would only see the crash.

Time stood still as the field hiccuped, flashed then dissolved into nothingness. The darkness came back with a vengeance, like a hungry beast too long denied from its feast. Twilight could feel it, crawling on her fur. It was more than just deprivation of the senses... She knew it now. It was aware, alive and vicious in intent. Screams erupted left and right, so close and yet too far for her to see what was about. She struggled in the tenebrosity, her vox rendered useless by the fool presence. Did it last a few seconds? minutes? hours? She wasn’t sure anymore... before it stopped.

It didn’t do it softly like a breeze slowly dying or abruptly with the force of an explosion. It just vanished, in a literal blink of an eye. But in its stead, was not the day Ponyville so sorely wished, nor even the natural warm night of the summer solstice. In its stead came the cold obscurity of a planet deprived of its sun. Twilight instinctively looked above, as did almost all the ponies around her. More than natural curiosity, they all felt the pull coming from above, that strange pressure, that imperious impulse to watch and see.

Gone was the phenomenon. Something else was standing where it was. Something equally alien to the sky of this world. Something that had no place here.

A dark, icy moon now ornamented the sky of Ponyville and its very presence radiated cold malevolence, like the glare of an old pagan goddess.

Twilight’s attention snapped back as something big moved toward her.

“You were saying, empress bitch?” the leader of the Luna’s Bats squad taunted with a smirk.

Part II - Chapter 09 - The Last Barrier I

View Online

Orbit of PV-01
Somnum Extereri, observation deck

Night Terror stood, motionless, in the empty room.

Even in the old days, better days, at the time when the Luna's Bats were still a force to be reckoned with and not a glorified band of pirates, when a complete crew ponied the ship, even at that time this deck was never used. The Bats were a pragmatic bunch. Such poetic nonsense as stargazing simply had no place in their midst. The only sight they needed was the strategic holomap of the command deck and their retinal displays. Night Terror was no different. As far as she was concerned, it would have been better used as a training ground or a storage room.

Yet, here she was, watching the heavenly bodies in silence.

The low hum of the engines shook the ship as it left the orbit of PV-01 to reach the newly-arrived moon. In the red light of the sun, the hull looked like blood-soaked brass. In a second of distraction, Night Terror thought that the pre-heresy warship probably looked like a blood drop falling from the planet to the moon. A fitting metaphor. The image made her smile, then frown. Such lyricism was not in her habit. The Sorcerer's bad influence was rubbing off her. Or maybe it was the achievement of a centuries-old quest that awoke the poet in her.

She focused back on the moon. It was there, a hoof-sized circle floating in space, growing too slowly for the eye to notice. If not for the remnants of unspace still lingering around it, forming deceptively beautiful auroras, one would have believed this unassuming planetoid had always been there. She knew better. She had seen the moon emergence first hoof. The Empyrean had screamed its rage at the world below, in a furious and grandiose maelstrom of unnatural colours, and spat from its depth a cold, grey moon.

It had been... No, it still was...

"Magnificent, isn't it?"

The voice of the Sorcerer resounded in the room. It was weak and hoarse, proof that Night Terror's punishment had left its mark. The Bat smirked briefly at the thought but did not answer.

The psyker slowly made his way to her side. The sound of hoofsteps echoed weirdly, both hushed and vibrant. There was still something almost ominous in his presence. She could feel the hint of a stillborn shiver at the base of her spine that she suppressed before he could notice it. He came closer and, to Night Terror's pleasure, chose to stand a step behind her. It was a small gesture of submission, but this small step was one in the right direction.

"So this is the Warmistress's prison," she said half stating the fact, half asking the stallion.

"Yes, it is," he nodded. "Ten thousand years ago, the false Empress trapped the Primare'ch of your legion on this planet, then sent it into the Warp. It ended the so-called 'Great Heresy' and started the age of willful ignorance we know today."

The words echoed and died in the empty room. They stood there in silence, watching the moon. It was a rare, peaceful moment between the two allies, which was promptly broken by the psyker's chuckles.

The Spacemare tilted her head as if asking him what was so funny. The seer caught the subtle change in her expression.

"It is nothing of interest, Champion. Merely the God's Realm influence."

"Humour me."

The Sorcerer prided himself in being a pretty powerful seer. Yet it had been twice in less than a week that the spacemare had taken him by surprise. This surprise was a pleasant one, however. Or a trap. He sent an inquisitive glance at Night Terror. She looked as calm as ever.

"I am surprised that such matters would interest you," he ventured prudently.

"They usually don't. But you proved that they may have their use, so I am willing to indulge in some... unhealthy curiosity." She let the words hang for a few seconds, letting him swallow his surprise. "What do you see, Sorcerer?" What do your foul daemons say about my mistress? she added mentally.

The psyker was still hesitating, feeling uneasy at the Spacemare's changing moods and unsure of what was expected of him, but he complied nonetheless. "I could tell it to you in a thousand ways and still not get it right," he started, "but, as always, I'll do my best to satisfy your request." He stopped a second, looking for the right analogy. "The Warp is like an ocean. Both the water and the weather around it, and psykers are sailors on this ocean. To survive we must learn to tame the currents and ride the wind -"

"Is there a point to this Sorcerer?"

"Please be patient, Champion," he said evenly, "I'm getting to it. Until the emergence of the moon, this ocean was a storm, raging and forcing me to focus on simply staying afloat. Now the Tempest in gone, leaving only powerful winds and navigable waters. There's so much power in the air I can see through the veil of time with little to no efforts. At that moment I could grasp a thousand possible futures as easily as flexing a muscle and you know what I see? I see only one thing: The Warmistress." The psyker paused. "All the voices of the Empyrean are singing the return of the Warmistress."

"As they should."

The Sorcerer smiled at that. Such arrogance put in service of such loyalty gave such entertaining results. The bruises on his neck, however, reminded him that this mix was still a dangerous one, even for him.

Outside, the moon imperceptibly grew bigger as the Somnum Extereri dived deeper into its gravitational well. Soon the Warmistress would be free again. Soon the Galaxy would burn anew.

And nopony would stop them.

☾☀☽

PV-01
Astroport

The fight had devolved to its most basic form. Air support had given the loyalists time to organise, but the advantage was slowly fading as the rebels and cultists prepared their counter-attack. Already, heavy weapons, stolen from the barracks or brought by the Bats, were directing their fire toward the Cloudsdale's planes. In truth, the loyal warmares' presence was the only factor in maintaining a semblance of cohesion on the defender's side.

The arrival of the Bats had awoken something primal. Facing a traitor legion on an open battlefield was reminiscent of the darkest hours of their history. Old wounds and betrayals, never forgotten nor forgiven, resurfaced and every one of them was trying to make the opponent pay for their precursors and Primare'ch transgressions. They fought, showing the full extent of their violence, of their military tactic and power.

Nevertheless, Twilight knew the resistance was living its last instants. They were getting submerged, and their condition was snowballing to oblivion. She risked a glance around her, assessing the situation for the hundredth time. Rainbow Dash was fighting a few metres to her left, her jetpack resting unused on her back, either empty or saved for one last flashy assault. She had barged into the fray like a thunderbolt, the boom of her rockets marking her passage. Her attacks had been deadly, unpredictable and near inescapable. Now she had switched for a more grounded style, using her momentum to carve a bloody path in the enemy formation. She was never stopping, never resting, always attacking: a rainbow thunderbolt.

Twilight needed not to turn to guess Fluttershy's presence. The towering war machine protected the most vulnerable zones of the defence perimeter, using her adamantium body as a shield for those too injured to fight, and her long arms as spears against the heretics. Those who dared come too close to the dreadnought were crushed and thrown away by deceptively fast blows. However, more than her speed, more than her overwhelming strength, it was her accuracy that impressed Twilight. Her strikes always found their mark most elegantly and efficiently, as if the assailants willingly jumped in front of them.

Above them, standing on the Spes Reliquus, as if daring the enemy to shoot her, Applejack was buying them time. She fired her weapon in precise bursts, suppressing the enemy's advance, dividing their ranks, herding the traitors toward strong points, giving time to the soldiers to reload and providing all of them with the mean to resist the overwhelming waves of enemies. All the while, she gave direction to every single unit, making sure to lead them to the best path.

That's where and when Pinkamena struck. Switching between her knife and rifle in tandem at astonishing speed, she made sure to spread confusion in the heretics' ranks. No matter where she struck, she always killed the right pony, the one cultist, the one traitor, that could drive the assault, making every push against them clumsy and easy to deal with for the already exhausted soldiers. The only targets she had not touched yet were the Luna's Bats themselves for they had left no overture. Yet.

It was a battle worthy of tales, the one storytellers dreamed of seeing, and one day deliver to enraptured crowds... but its issue was already decided. It was not the epic tale of victory bitterly obtained but the tragedy of a glorious last stand. The loyalists could not win this fight. The cynicism and practicality of the Bats were the only reasons this skirmish had not been settled yet. They had opted for the sacrifice en masse of their followers to weaken the defenders.

This plan would have perfectly worked save for one fatal flaw. It failed or didn't care to understand the real goals of the loyalists. This mistake had played in favour of Twilight and her allies, but it would not last forever. All depended on Rarity's diligence, and so far the Techmare had been worryingly silent. Twilight budding trust in the white unicorn was starting to show its limits.

"Does any of you have an idea what's taking so long to Rarity?" Applejack wondered, giving voice to Twilight's concerns.

"Aren't you the one always telling us to trust her?" Rainbow Dash joked between two curses.

"I trust her. I just hope she did not decide to be fashionably late. Again."

"Rarity would not leave us hanging," the dreadnought voxed calmy as though the fury of battle was nonexistent.

"Yeah!" Pinkie Pie chimed in, "she loves a fancy party like this one! I mean Spacemares? The Warmistress herself? Even I could not throw one like this."

"Don't sell yourself short Pink," the assault warmare contradicted her.

"Yeah! Remember the Gryphon invasion?" Applejack reminded her.

"Which one?" the Death Spectre asked.

The conversation kept on with the same surprising levity. Twilight could not help but listen, surprised by their complicity. Equustodes had some sort of sisterhood, but even her reclusive self could see how flawed it was. She could feel it, in the small details, in the way they acted or didn't act, in the small talks and banters. Even in bonding experiences, even when they were supposed to be fighting together... something was missing. In a sense, they were the daughter of the Empress before they were sisters.

But these Spacemares shared that link, even though they came from very distinct Chapters, even though they had fought various fights against different foes before fate gathered them here. Twilight realised she envied this connection.

"How can you joke at a time like that?" she let out despite herself.

They all shut up as if they remembered the presence of the warmare from Canterlot.

"You'll get used to it," Fluttershy finally said, reassuringly.

"Yeah," Pinkamena added. "I don't know how you do things in Canterlot, but here, you face death with a smile~"

"Don't break into a hymn yet Pinkie, we need some support on my left side," Applejack intervened, reminding the reality of the battlefield.

"On the eastern front too..." the Blood Alicorn Dreadnought added.

"And the fifth and eleventh are getting overwhelmed," completed Twilight.

"Leave it to me," Rainbow Dash declared. "I've got it."

And as simple as that, Twilight was included. It didn't take any efforts from them to add her as a sister of battle. They were united in purpose. They all shared the same thought: "we'll buy you some time Raritys so don't leave us hanging."

☾☀☽

The ground shook under Rarity's hooves, more intensely than ever before. The tremors of the fight became more intense by the second. However, the techmare had no time to dwell on it. She was waited for and had well but passed the limits being fashionably late. She was supposed to have initiated the teleportation sequence minutes, an eternity, ago, But a nasty "glitch" had decided to foil her schedule.

It had started immediately after the Gellar Field's "failure" and had been nagging her ever since. Ten servitors had been rendered inoperative in a seemingly random pattern. It took her a few seconds to identify the nature of the aggression. It was a small strike force. No more than three, most probably one or two Spacemares. Teleporters. An annoying configuration. Way less destructive for the machinery than, say electrokinesists, but they were still most aggravating adversaries.

Yet one thing pissed her off more than anything. More than the death of Twilight's and her servitors, even more than the desecration of the Marechanicum's craft. What infuriated her the most was the fact that the attacker had avoided her so far. On all account, she should have been a priority target, yet they had eluded her, always fleeing when she came close.

Uneducated ruffians! she thought bitterly. Why is it always so frustrating to get rid of them?

She had to exterminate them quickly, for she could not afford to let heretics having their way inside the ship, especially during such a sensitive part of the operation. Despite and unbeknownst to herself, Rarity smiled at the challenge. It was but a life-size game of regicide, and she would be damned if some grunt bested her at it. Complex calculations took place into her head, and all around the ship, servitors started moving.

☾☀☽

Silent Stalker shifted in and out of the void, slaughtering servitors and disappearing in a heartbeat. It was so gratifying. She hadn't had such sport in decades. She had never followed Night Terror for her desperate crusade but the thrill of the kill, and so far it had been disappointing. Their commander in chief had invariably fled the battles, leaving the fights to somepony else. It was always petty sabotages and hits and runs. But not anymore! Now they were waging war! As they should have been from the beginning! And the bloodthirsty Bat was enjoying herself so very much. Killing the defenders of this pathetic planet had been very cathartic and satisfying. The way they struggled futilely to survive, how they tried to catch her as she killed them from the shadows...

It sent shivers down her spine. The servitors were a tame game in comparison, but the renegade still found pleasure in butchering them, for there was the Techmare chasing her. The mule-breed loyalist was trying and failing, to catch her, dispersing the brainless ponies and closing doors to her face. Such pathetic and futile attempts to stop her made her laugh. She was no better than the planetary defence forces.

Another group of servitors fell under her blade. Those had tried to resist, using fusing torches and various tools to fend off their assailant. It barely even slowed her, but at least it gave her a distraction. A distraction that would have made her miss the auto-turrets... if she was a mere mortal. The whirring of the mechanisms gave off their position even before she could see them and thus before they could sense her. She hesitated. Should she destroy them? She dismissed the idea. Taking care of them would be time or ammunition-consuming, which was opposite to the ways of her chapter.

Also, it was deliciously provocative.

Silent Stalker teleported again. Now, traps and turrets sometimes sprung to life in her wake, adding to her fun rather than worrying her. Two other servitors died. In the distance, she could hear the warmare closing on her. Persistent whorse. Her turn would come soon. It was almost over, and soon she'd go and savour the main event. The last servitors were not far. She teleported again.

She opened the rift in space and let it suck her in. For a split second, everything shifted to the horrors of the Empyrean, a sight she secretly relished, no matter how many times Night Terror had warned her about it. An instant later, it was gone, and the material universe manifested again. Silent Stalker stepped off, ready to kill.

She didn't hear the blade slicing through the air, nor did she see it. Only a fortunate reflex made her flex her foreleg.

The blade ripped on her skull, scalping her mane and slicing through her horn. The pain flooded her nervous system and, despite all of her training and the chemical mix suddenly pumped into her veins, she could not help but howl madly. Behind her stood the Techmare, her blades in position, ready to strike again. One of them was dripping blood. Her blood.

"Shame..." the white unicorn in red armour lamented. She flicked her blade in an elegant, fluid arc, the wet blood splattering on the ship's wall. "I missed. You still have your head. Well, now that all that teleportation nonsense is over," she said, pointing the now clean blade toward the Bat, "maybe we can fight like civilised legionaries?"

Silent Stalker roared her pain and crushed pride and launched at her.

"I guess I was asking for too much..."

The fight ended in a flash. Rarity's blades deflected the clumsy attacks without efforts, then sliced through the warmare's neck. The head fell neatly on the ground a the hooves of its owner. The body stayed erect for a dozen of seconds before the enhanced metabolism finally accepted its fate, falling in a heap before an indifferent Techmare.

At last, Rarity gave the final order to the remaining servitors.

"It is done Equustode. Get inside the ship."

☾☀☽

Standing victoriously in the middle of the cultists, Blood Lust, leader of the second claw of the Luna's Bats watched the defence crumble. It had always been a matter of time. The defenders of Ponyville had no way out, were outnumbered and their aerial support was dwindling. They couldn't even escape in the broken ship they were retreating in. It was a flawless victory.

And now was time for her prize. With the smallest movement of the head, she put her claw into motion. Eight spacemares followed her silently, slicing effortlessly through the throng of cultists. The frontline opened before them like parting seas. She war barely registering the ponies she was killing, friends, foes, it didn't matter. She only had eyes for the golden mare fighting in front of her. Her prize, her prey: the equustode.

Blood Lust couldn't wait to taste her blood and take her head. Maybe she would even offer it the Warmistress as a gift instead of keeping it for herself. She hungrily licked her lips at the thought. She was so close now. She could smell the sweet aroma of sweat and chemical cocktail coursing her prey's veins getting stronger by the second. She didn't even realise that she was running until she was a few feet away from the lavender unicorn.

She charged forward, trampling the ponies on her way. With a roar of pure elated rage, she sent her axe flying in a brutal vertical swing. The equustode met the blades with her staff instantly. Magic and forcefields met with noise and fury. Sparks and lightning danced between the warmares, lighting their ferocious features.

They stood there for a fraction of an instant, their weapons and gaze interlocked in a match of strength and will before the shockwave pushed them back violently.

Blood Lust bowed mockingly, her axes floating lazily at her side as if inviting the lavender warmare to strike her. "Tell me your name," Blood Lust she demanded calmly, "so I know whose head I'll offer to the Warmistress."

"I don't take orders from traitors," the equustode deadpanned.

"When you see your holy ghost, tell her Blood Lust sent you."

What happened wasn't a fight. It was a one-sided demonstration of the equustode's skills. Blood Lust threw everything at her, every trick and feint and underhooved manoeuvre she knew... with no results. Her skills crashed and crumbled against the brick wall of the equustode's defence. She wasn't even winded. She just watched her with disdain her bladed staff pointed at her.

"Are cheap tricks the only thing your chapter is good for?" she deadpanned.

"Mule-bred!" Blood Lust screamed in anger.

The rushed forward, filling the gap between them in the blink of an eye. She sent her axes and kicked, in a flurry of strikes.

The mare of gold and light moved, cancelling the vicious attack, parrying the axes and limbs in one flowing arabesque of her weapon. Blood Lust saw the blow, the blade coming for her head. She instinctively moved to dodge, but she already knew she was too slow. She may save her head from being cleaned off, but the blade would still claim her life. She could see the promise of death in the eyes of her foe.

The blow never came.

There was a sudden flash of light and a great gust of wind. Then nothing. The equustode was gone.

Blood Lust lifted her hoof to her face where the blade would have cut. She could feel the hair-wide cut in her fur, stopping right before her flesh. It burnt more than any wound she'd ever received.

"Blood," one of her mare voxed her from the other side of the ship, "Silent Stalker is dead. They're gone... they're all gone! They teleported out!"

Blood Lust let out a scream of rage and frustration that rivalled with her shriek. It resonated in the ship from one end to the other, reverberated in the empty rooms again, and again, and again. Ponies collapsed around her, struck dead by the sonic attack, but she did not care.

All she could hear was the soft hum of the machines that had taken her prey. It sounded like the victory laugh of the golden warrior.

☾☀☽

PV-01
Dulce Pomum Battalion barracks, Strategium

The Strategium was eerily calm. Spike enjoyed the peace while it lasted. In a few minutes, it would return to its natural state of organised chaos. Spike would have to help maintain and organise the defences his mistress and her peers had put into place, and he would have to do so against at least a half company of Spacemares. And possibly a Primare'ch. And win. An impossible task that he was intent to complete, not only because it was what the Imperium needed, but because it was what his mistress had asked of him.

But for now, Spike watched the moon that had appeared in the dark skies of Ponyville.

It was an ugly thing, he had decided. It had not taken too much effort. The piece of rock was a mark of heresy, a planetary act of defiance in the eye of the Empress, but more than anything it was a testament to Lady Twilight's failure to prevent the return of the Warmistress. Yet, he did not despair, for he knew she was out there, fighting for them all. And she would succeed, as she always did. And she'd find her servitor waiting for her when she came back.

Hoofsteps echoed in the corridor outside, snapping him out of his daydream. The officers entered the room greeting him, visibly uncomfortable at the idea of dealing with a dragon. He was confident they would obey, though. He had the authority given by an Equustode, and the training to justify it.

It was time for him to do his part.

May the Empress guide and preserve you, my Lady. I'll protect this world in your absence.

Part II - Chapter 10 - The Last Barrier II

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Orbit of PV-01
Last Barrier, storage room

First, Twilight felt the pull, stronger than her teleportation spell could ever produce, a summon born not from magic but from ancient technology. It took over her whole body at once, in every direction, yet none. It was as if every fibre of her being was being stretched and compressed as reality faded around her... and then, the moment passed. The narrow, illuminated hallways of her ship were no more. She was now standing in a wide room bathed in a dim, flickering, reddish light.

“What in Tartarus happened‽” The voice of Rainbow Dash broke the silence and boomed through the room, filling it with echoes. “What the fuck‽”

“It’s merely the telepo–” Rarity started.

“I don’t mean that! They kicked our asses down there!”

“We knew keeping the spaceport was only a possibility,” Applejack answered diplomatically, “that's why we planned for contigencies.”

“Don't come at me with that bullshit! One of my pilots crashed on the ship! It was not an accident! Their plane was fine!”

“You don't know that,” Twilight intervened, lighting the room in a cold lavender.

“One of them was a teleporter,” Rarity added. “It's perfectly possible one of the Bats killed your pilot and crashed their ship. But more importantly, it doesn't make sense for one reason: it's highly unlikely they'd have targeted the Spes Reliquus and not us.”

Rainbow Dash hit the ground with force, leaving a dent in the metal of the hull, her frustration seemingly rising out of control, before letting out a deep, heavy sigh. And just as that, her composure was back. “You’re right. I can't do nothing about it now anyway.” She looked around her. “So where are we? Shouldn't we be on the bridge or something?”

It took a few, worrying, seconds for Rarity to answer. “We are on the Last Barrier, as planned...” she confirmed with some hesitation. “However, we are way off course. I cannot explain it.” The techmare sounded genuinely puzzled. “We're in one of the storage rooms, almost half a kilometre off the signal.”

“Half a- wait you mean we could have ended in space?” Rainbow Dash shouted.

“Or in the hull...” Applejack added darkly.

“It was highly unlikely,” Rarity dismissed.

“How unlikely?” Fluttershy inquired softly.

“Well, there was less than eighteen per cent chance that we–”

“Eighteen per cent‽ Are you kidding me‽” the cyan Ravenguard shouted again.

“The Empress protects the bold and the diligent,” Twilight interrupted. "We knew the risks, and we decided it was worth it. We have more pressing matters at hoof.” She turned toward the Iron Hooves techmare. “Rarity what is the status of the ship? Can it fly? Is there any survivors?”

The Techmare shook her head. “I cannot answer satisfyingly to those inquiries. As far as I can say, the ship looks in stable condition, and there seems to be no risk of immediate destruction,” she informed. “As for the crew, there are no signs of life in the vicinities. However, I won't be able to accurately answer until I find an access point or a terminal.” She checked her data stream for a second, looking for exactly that. “There is one, three sectors away. It should give me all the elements needed to give you a precise assessment.”

“Can't you just hack it from here or something?” Rainbow argued.

“I could,” she admitted while checking her gear, “but there is no need for it when there are perfectly fine cogitators nearby. I wouldn’t risk insulting the machine spirit of this ship if I can help it. If we want to make the Last Barriere jump through the Warp without complication we are going to need every bit of advantage we can get, dear.” Rarity’s gaze turned from one of her blades to Rainbow Dash. “Vexing it would be ill-advised.”

“Fine.” the pegasus relented. “Then let’s get done with it.”

Twilight nodded. Before she could give the order, however, a soft yet deep voice interrupted her.

“A minute...” The low artificial voice of the dreadnought sounded in a private channel of the vox.

“What is it Fluttershy?” she answered in kind.

“If you don't mind, Equustode... I suggest that we make a short pause before going further. Lots of the soldiers are injured and disoriented from the teleportation.”

Only then did Twilight notice the poor shape the survivors of the battalion's forces were in. She had even forgotten about their presence. Of the thousand soldiers she had taken with her, less than a hundred had survived, and that number would likely drop even more considering the severity of their wounds.

“Give them a few minutes to rest,” Fluttershy insisted.

Twilight hesitated. She wanted to get it over with, to find the Element as fast as possible and send the Warmistress back to Tartarus and for a second she almost dismissed Fluttershy. But she did not. The DP had thought bravely, even when faced with warmares. They had proved their worth. They were exhausted and many needed some medical attention or a peaceful death. Even she needed a moment's pause to check her gear and save some strength for what was coming next.

“You're right,” she conceded.

“Rarity?” she asked on the general channel, “how long before they catch our trace on the surface?”

“Hard to say but with the perturbation of the warp disturbance, I'd estimate twelve hours minimum if the odds play overwhelmingly in their favour. More likely it could take them days.”

“Will we–” Twilight started.

“We should have well enough time to manoeuvre this ship, trust me,” the Techmare interrupted her reassuringly.

“Good.” She turned toward the dreadnought. “Fluttershy, I want you to check on the remaining militias. I want a precise assessment of our remaining forces. Take care of any medical procedure necessary.” She turned toward Applejack. “Sargent, whenever possible I want the remaining troops reorganised and ready to go. I also want a defensive permitre ready if we need to fall back.” Next were Pinkamena and Rainbow Dash. “Pinkamena, Rainbow, I want you to scout our surroundings and find if any member of the crew survived. operating without them will be exponentially harder.” She looked at Rarity. “Techmare, we leave in five. We’re going to check on the ship's status.”

“We’ll rendezvous at the bridge in one hour. I want an update on everypony’s position every five minutes.”

Everypony agreed in turn, and the mortal soldiers immediately sighed in relief, many slumping to the ground as the tension fell.

“Thank you, Equustode,” Fluttershy whispered privately.

Five minutes. Enough for the warmares to recollect their strengths and check their gear. Fluttershy however had no need for it. Or rather she didn't care about it. Her concern was the soldiers and their injuries. Twilight wondered if she had always been this caring of mortals, or if her entombment had magnified her sense of duty to the point where she considered even the battalion as part of her squad.

Whatever the case, Twilight found the spectacle fascinating.

Dreadnoughts were incredible feats of engineering, and the level of destruction they could bring was only exceeded by the heaviest war machines. They were made for situations where finesse was no longer an option and when overwhelming force had become a necessity. They were weapons of mass destruction, and the Furioso template, in which Fluttershy was entombed, was among the deadliest of them all. She was a force to be reckoned with, and Twilight had had many occasions to see it in action.

Yet this spectacle of her mending wounds was somehow more impressive than her deeds in war. The care and precision she was able to bring into the moves of the machine were beyond everything Twilight had ever seen or could have believed possible.

“Nice of you to give'em a pause,” Applejack told her in private in her vox, “the Bats beat'em pretty hard.”

Twilight dismissed the praise with a flick of her hoof. “It was a better long-term strategy. Besides, we won't need them right now, so we exhausting them would be pointless.”

She tried to hide the fact that she had been close to do just that, but she felt like her omission was pointless. She could feel the spacemare's amusement on the other side of the vox but Applejack diplomatically chose not to make any remark.

“She was the apothecary of her squad, you know?” she said out of the blue. “When she was still active with the Alicorns. Rumour says once she was deployed into the field, no member of her squad had the permission to die,” Applejack continued. “Probably a legend though, but when I see her patch the troops, I can't help but wonder how much it is true.”

Twilight had nothing to add to that.

The five minutes melted away fast. By that time, Rarity had gathered and shared all the data on the ship she could put her hoof on while the pink Death Spectre, the cyan White Scar and the Lavender equustode planned their course accordingly.

“Let's go,” Twilight finally declared.

☾☀☽

“You think they saw us?”

472 didn't answer.

“Hey, you hear me? You think they saw us?” 8533 repeated.

“No they can't,” 472 hissed. “Even the demon-ponies couldn't.”

“You think they were really demons?”

472 ignored the question again. 8533 always asked way too many questions and half of them were useless. The ponies below had come from nowhere. At first, they had hoped they were a rescue team, but no vessel could have passed the monstrous ship outside. And even if they did, the crew would have noticed something like a ship docking in. No, this was something else. They had seemingly appeared from thin air. Just like the demon ponies. There had been enough deaths already, he didn't want to become one of them.

“You think they are demons too?”

“They might be.”

“We do what now?”

472 hesitated for a moment. “We watch them and we wait,” he finally decided.

☾☀☽

Twilight was wary. There was definitely something sinister about the ship. It didn't help that the stinky touch of the warp was present all around. It was a faint one, but she could still feel it whenever she paid attention to it, like an annoying itch or something moving at the corner of her eyes. Even Rarity showed signs of restlessness, her servos regularly twitching and pointing at nothing.

Let's just hope these are just lingering traces of the storm... Twilight thought.

“How long before you're finished, Rarity?” she queried expectantly.

“In a sense, I already am. The reason why I'm still working is that there are some readings I cannot make sense of.”

“Troubles?”

“I am not sure,” the Techmare confessed, equine frustration oozing through her voice. “However, I have some good news. The ship is mostly intact. The communications are off but the rest of it appears to be functional. There are also large concentrations of ponies hidden and locked up in several parts of the ship. I think a good proportion of the crew survived, way more than the minimal amount required to navigate it.”

“Excellent.”

“Wait, if the crew's still alive, why is the ship as dead as an ice pit?” Applejack intervened through the vox.

“And why didn't they try to fight?” Rarity added. “Or even try to flee? It's been days already.”

“I'm sure we'll find answers soon enough,” Twilight cut off. “Right now our focus should be to get the ship moving,” she settled.

“Equustode?” Rainbow Dash said with chilling, deathly calm.

“Yes?”

“I've found something. You should come and see.”

“We're on our way. Pinkamena, do you copy?”

“I’m on the prowl,” the warmare answered before shutting down communications.

“Pinkamena?”

☾☀☽

Pinkamena Diane Pie sliced through the shadows like a fish in the water. She heard the call of her friends in her vox but she ignored them. Apparently, the ship was calm and they would likely not need her at the moment.

She had something way more interesting to do right now.

Someone or something was spying on them. She had felt it and her senses never lied. Things or people were hidden nearby and that meant that she had to seek them out.

Nobody hides from Pinkamena Diane Pie.

☾☀☽

They found the pegasus in one of the living area of the ship. The place was merely a few sectors away but the need for answers, the closed security doors and the oppressive atmosphere stretched time to maddening lengths. What they found, however, was worth it.

Rainbow Dash stood next to one of the several doors that separated the locked ship. This one, unlike the others they had seen so far, had been blown up. The metal at its centre had been literally vaporised and the rest had melted due to intense heat. The warmare recognised the damage pattern immediately. There were not a lot of weapons capable of such a thing.

“Melta bombs,” Twilight commented. “So the Bats have been here after all.”

“Did you have any doubt about it?” Applejack asked.

“Not really.”

“There's more inside,” Rainbow indicated.

For all her knowledge, Twilight couldn't either. One thing was sure, the room was not fit for living anymore. The furniture lay broken at the corners like toys thrown aside by giant, angry children. More worrying, however, was the new decoration. The floor had been torn apart, leaving sharp and threatening stalagmites of metal rising everywhere. It was a trypophobic nightmare that defied everything Twilight had seen. This was not the result of a deflagration... it was like something had come from the bellows of the ship and torn the floor open.

“What in tarnation is that?” Applejack swore.

Rainbow Dash’s answer was cold, yet burned with seething hatred: “It's a torture pit.”

“Are you sure?” Applejack asked.

“Positive. It is way... cleaner than the ones I dealt with but yeah there's no mistaking it.”

“But why construct such a... barbaric device just to expose it?” Rarity wondered. “Is it a threat?”

“Believe me, it's been used.”

“How can you tell?” the Techmare probed.

“Come on, even you can feel it. This place feels like death.”

The Daughter of Medusa didn't answer, for, as inelegant, nonsensical and subjective this answer was, it resonated with some part of her, still mortal, core.

The place did feel like death.

“But then, where are the bodies?” Fluttershy wondered.

“I am more worried about the ponies still alive,” Twilight responded. “Rarity do you still have their vitals?”

“Affirmative, Equustode.”

“Then let's find them out. We need answers and this ship moving as soon as possible.”

Walking the dead ship was nerve-wracking. Mysteries piled on with no perspective answers in sight. They didn’t even know if the Bats were still there, lurking and waiting in ambush or if the crew was still loyal to the Empress after the impact of the Warp storm.

It didn’t help that every door had been locked, delaying them even further.

“The... the ruffians!” Rarity screamed in indignation as she failed to open one of the last remaining door. “They sabotaged the opening system.”

“Is it me,” the “or she wasn't that mad for the melted door?”

“It’s not the same! Doors are just big metal plates. This is a part of the machinery of the ship!! They could have done things properly, just disconnect the system but no, they had to be savages about it...”

“But wouldn’t that make it easy for the Bats to repair it and go through?” Fluttershy wondered.

“That’s not the point!”

Twilight let the Techmare rant and looked around, still gathering clues about what happened. There were traps all around. Most of them were crude and more threatening than really effective. It was the messed up job of someone who did not know what they were doing but was rushed into it by time and circumstances.

Probably the work of the crew, she deducted.

A sound interrupted her thoughts. It was faint and the constant growling of the metal beast entrails covered it well, but it was there. Twilight looked around inconspicuously. The other Spacemares seemed to have noticed too. Rarity's rant was still going on but Twilight could see that her mechanical limbs were not working on the machine anymore. Applejack was checking her weapon carelessly but was using this pretence to look attentively around. The same went for Rainbow Dash, hovering lazily above the ground but who was carefully circling their perimeter. Only Fluttershy, in her heavy adamantium tomb, looked unaware, but Twilight didn't doubt that she was on alert too.

They all heard it. The heartbeats.

“Equustode?” Rainbow Dash called calmly and quietly on the vox, where the potential foes could not hear them.

“Yes, I've heard them too.”

“There's at least twelve on our left flank,” informed Applejack.

“And twice as many on the left on the right,” completed Rarity.

“I hear thirty-seven heartbeats in total,” Twilight informed.

“They're not Bats.”

No, they weren't. Those were single-hearted, erratic, frightened heartbeats... Those were ponies' heartbeats. Ponies who were about to make a mistake.

“What should we do, Equustode?” Fluttershy asked with apprehension.

“We give them a warning and if they don't answer correctly, they'll face consequences,” she decided. She calmly got in front of the door, between the two ambushed groups and shouted, loudly and clearly to the hidden ponies. “I am Twilight Sparkle, Custodian in the service of the Empress. If you're one of Her loyal citizens, you have nothing to fear from us.”

“Le's hope they're reaso–” Fluttershy muttered.

Several warcries erupted from the walls. Ponies came out from secret openings, charging without cohesion.

“So much for that...” the cyan pegasus commented.

“For the Empress!” Twilight screamed before charging into the fray.

☾☀☽

“Hey, you think demons call the Empress too?” 8533 asked.

472 hit him on the back of his head. “Don't be stupid! Demons hate the Empress. She protects the faithful from them.”

“Oh... But if they call her name, then they are not Demons right?”

8533 said nothing. Were these ponies soldiers of the Empress? Their leader had called herself a Custodian. Was it some kind of rank?

In the end, it didn't matter, 472 decided. He had to get the hell out of here and warn the rest of the block that new ponies had arrived. Fortunately, he knew how to get in and out of his hideout without being seen. He had to-

A massive, heavy leg went over his shoulder. This was not 8533's leg. He swallowed nervously.

“Found you~” said a playful voice from behind him.

Then the room started to move extremely fast.

☾☀☽

The fight had been brief and unfair. The assailants had been civilians, poorly armed, facing warmares. Even if they could have kept the element of surprise, they'd have lost and yet... they had fought to the death, despite the attempts of capturing them alive or making them surrender. They'd rather end their own life than get caught. Such desperation had shocked even Twilight.

Rainbow Dash landed next to her, her black armour painted with fresh red.

“That was weird...” she commented.

“These ponies were no cultists,” noted Applejack.

“No,” Rarity concurred, lifting a body with one of her servos. Under the filth and the crude cloth armour they were wearing, the uniform of the maintenance crew and their matriculation could clearly be seen.
“They were fighting to protect themselves, not to further the Warmistress's plans.”

“What could make them act like that?” asked Fluttershy.

“I have no idea... but I know some ponies who might!” an elusive pink Spacemare shouted, emerging from the shadows.

All weapons turned toward her in an instant. She didn't seem to mind.

“Pinkie?” Twilight let out, lowering her staff.

“That's me!”

“Where have you been?” the warmare from Canterlot asked.

“Oh! I found out that some ponies were spying on us, and you wanted some answers so I thought to myself 'Pinkie! The equustode seems really confused about what's happening right now, wouldn't it be great if we had a good way of finding just that?' and then I realised I could kill two bird with one bullet, which now that I think about it is not easy but no that hard you know? Anyway I went to catch the spying spies and bring them back to you and now I realise I forgot to tell you that beforehoof...”

Before any of the warmares could utter a word, she unceremoniously let the ponies on her back to the ground. They fell on top of each other with painful, muted gasps. “Those two were playing hide and seek and look! I won!”

The two ponies were unicorns, young, but old enough to do their part. Considering how infrequently the Last Barriere docked, they were either born on it or they'd lied about their age to get on board the last time it had refilled its crew.

The first one was a tall and slim stallion with orange fur, a green mane and a peaceful, almost vacant expression. His uniform was the standard work attire of the ship, one size too big for him and sporting the number 8533. The other was his polar opposite. Physically, he was small and chubby with green fur and an orange mane. His attitude was also quite different. While crewpony 8533 was calmly accepting his fate, 472 looked incredibly nervous, desperately looking left and right, trying to find a way to escape from his captors. Contrary to the precedent crewponies however, they did not look like the fighting nor the suicidal type.

“Identify yourself,” Twilight ordered.

“I am crewpony 8533 and he's crewpony 472,” the taller said.

“Don't tell them that!” Crewpony 472 chastised him.

“You know that lying to Spacemares is a punishable offence?”

“Sp-Spacemares?” 472 stuttered.

“Well duh!” Pinkie laughed. “Big mares in armours, in service of the Empress, protect ponykind, kill bad guys... I thought it was obvious.”

“Wow... Spacemares...” 8533 let out. “Hey! They're not demons! They're heroes!”

“You do not have to be afraid. We're here to help.” Fluttershy told them with her most soothing tone while keeping some distances as to not threaten them.

Help was there. The Spacemares were there... All those prayers in the dark without answers and now... help was there. Tears of relief ran freely on 472's cheeks now.

“What happened to this ship?”

☾☀☽

“They came from nowhere... like you,” 472 started. “We didn't see nothing coming. There was no ships, no explosions, no nothing. We were working as normal, and just like that, there were alarms everywhere. It was chaos. There was screamings in the vox, we had no idea what was going on... Everypony was running and screaming. 27 told me to get to Com' to see what was going on. I took 8533 with me and ran. I think that's what saved us, cause the doors closed right behind us... We heard ponies bang at them... but they're solid you know? Made to resist explosions and stuff. Not something you can open with your hooves.”

“We didn't get what was happening. Me and 8533 were in a corridor, the crew was banging at the door behind us, so we… –” he sobbed heavily, obviously wracked by guilt and horror “– we hid… We didn't want to disobey 27 but there was no way to get to Com'!” he justified. “We went in the vents, most ponies can't but I'm small for my age and 8533 is slim, so it's no problem for us. 27 don't... didn't... like it when we went inside them, but she sometimes send ponies inside to look for problems in the machines so we went there. And we waited. I don't know how long. I think it didn't take long.”

472 took a pause. He swallowed several times and breathed deeply. After a minute or two, he continued his story.

“The vox opened up again. I was sure it was the captain telling us it was over, that things would be normal again... but that wasn't her. It was another voice. A deep voice, not the voice of a pony...It was more like yours, deeper, more frightening but... it had no emotion. It was as if it was talking to itself.. as if we were not even there! As if we were insects for them! It spoke to us through the vox and I'll never forget its words...”

They told us that they were the Luna’s Bats and that they died for us or something. They said we were pathetic and that they were judging us… they said a lot of mean things about the Empress too… And then they said that the captain would be the first to pay.

472 stopped again. Tears started to coat his fur, but he didn't even seem to realise.

“For... for hours, they... they...” He swallowed and then took a deep breath. It didn't really help. “They killed... her,” he let out painfully. I never heard nothing like... like that... The s-screams... they never stopped. You know, once a crewmare got caught between two gears. There was nothing to do... She screamed until someone finally gave her peace. That gave me nightmares for weeks... but... that... that was worse! I-I can still hear her when I'm awake when I close my eyes... when there's no sound... it's not leaving my head! She died and screamed for hours. I don't know how somepony can scream like that and never stop! They cut her again and again! Th-they... they were telling every detail so we knew what they were doing and she knew what they were going to do to her too! It...it was horrible! I thought things could not get worse... But I was wrong... so, so wrong...”

He paused once again. One of the soldiers came next to him and offered him something to drink. He barely registered the gesture, drinking by reflex.

“They cut off the vox when she died... We didn't move. We stayed in the vent... we couldn't move, and we couldn't decide on what to do. They left us for hours. It-it's hard to know what time is it without the lights, see? 8533 told me they let us four hours. I trust him. He's good with time. After the pause, they talked again. We didn't know what would happen. They already told us they wanted to kill us dead, things could not go much wronger, right? And there were hundreds of guards on the ship! They could not defeat them all! I was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. That's when things got really bad.

“We saw everything from the vent. They called it 'the purge'. We know cause me and 8533 heard them call it that. They told us how they would kill us in the vox. Twice a day, they'd open a sector and kill everyone inside save for a few... then, they'd torture them and make us listen. After that, they'd make a pause and go to the next.”

There was a moment of dead silence. The use of the torture pit became clear. The attack had started days ago... how many ponies had died like that?

“It was Tartarus... Everyone was trapped in tiny sections of the ships, never knowing if they'd be the next. Some tried to fight. They were butchered. Some tried to surrender... those suffered the most. Their screams... there's no way a pony can scream like that...” the crewpony repeated with a shudder. “We saw everything but they didn't see us. I don't know how long it last...”

“Five days, two hours, twenty-two minutes,” 8533 informed.

“But then...” 472 continued, unphased, “they disappeared. Like they'd arrived... they didn't leave, they didn't flee.. just... pop! nopony's here! Even their victims were gone! There were no traces! No blood, no bones, no dead, nothing! It was like awakening from a nightmare... except those who die in the nightmare are gone for real.”

The pony paused one last time, facing the Spacemares and DPs around him.

“It's been hours now but we don't move no more... except me and 8533.”

“It’s fine now,” Fluttershy said softly. “The Empress’ Angels are here.”

☾☀☽

Hours had passed. The crew had been gathered and reassured. Some were still hiding, but there was enough to spare. The ship was alive again despite some occasional internal fights raging in its bowels. The Last Barrier was almost ready to go.

Twilight and Fluttershy were making the final adjustment before departure. As it turned out, the navigator had not waited for the Bats to take him, forcing Twilight to take his place. She didn't relish the idea of carrying a warp translation, but they were out of options. Only she had the mental fortitude and abilities to safely guide – or more likely, drag – the ship through the Empyrean.

Despite the urgency of their situation, these few hours had been seen as a welcome pause before the maelstrom that would inevitably hit them. A quiet time that made Twilight thoughtful. A question, pointless but persistent pestered her.

“Fluttershy?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes, equustode?”

“Why do you all keep calling me by my title?” The dreadnaught slowly turned toward the unicorn. The mobile tomb lacked facial features for Twilight to examine, but she could still guess the surprise of the warmare in the small micro-expressions her huge body showed. “I do not mind you doing so, I'm merely curious.”

“We simply thought you preferred to be called that way... I apologise if we offended you.”

Why would I be offended? she thought before she remembered her first exchange with Applejack. Oh. “You didn't,” she swiftly said. “I appreciate the concern.” There was a short awkward pause before Twilight spoke again. “You can call me Twilight. It's more efficient that way, fewer syllables.”

Fluttershy bowed slowly, cryptically. This time Twilight wasn't sure of the emotion conveyed by the gesture. “I will... Twilight.”

It felt strange to let such familiarity take place, let alone encourage it... but it felt right. Twilight nodded and looked around her, inspecting her work. “Looks like everything is ready,” Twilight reported after a time. “Give the signal to the crew.”

The huge frame hiccuped imperceptibly. Twilight identified it as a mark of hesitation. “Hum... Twilight? May I…?”

Twilight stopped staring at her map to face the dreadnaught. “Of course.”

“I think you should address the ponies of the ship. For better or worse, you're our leader. They count on your guidance. Maybe a quick word would give them hope.”

“This is not my forte. I think you or Applejack are better suited–”

“We may be better suited, but you are our leader. This carries weight. You must be more than what you are. You must be what we all need.” She put her hoof softly on her shoulder. “Be our leader, Twilight.”

Twilight nodded slowly, pondering the words. She was right.

“Do you still want me to give the signal?”

“That won't be necessary,” she said with a smile. “You're right. I'll do as you say.” Twilight watched the holomap one more time. The Extereri was too far to stop them and its course led it the opposite way. By the time they'd turn to intercept them, they'd be long gone. The Warp was relatively calm and the course clear.

Come on Twilight, if you can't do that, what hope do you have against the Warmistress?

“Ponies of the Last Barrier, soldiers of the Dulce Pomum. Today, we are the bearers of the light of the Empress in the darkest of nights. Today, we are the last barrier against heresy and treason. Today, we fight back against the invaders. We are the Last Barrier and we will stand proud.” She took a deep breath. “Push the Motors at optimal power. Stand ready for a jump to the Everfree.”

☾☀☽

The Last Barrier awoke from its slumber. Its engines roared dispelling the cold embrace that had seized them. Soon the metal beast was running at full speed travelling, once again, the void it had been made to conquer. Energy gathered along its hull as the Warp drives flared to life. Space tore itself once more above PV-01.

The Last Barrier had entered its last warp travel.

Part II - Chapter 11 - The Mares in the Warp

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In the darkness of space, an abomination erred in aimless agony. Its body regenerated, healing the injuries caused by the void and the cold of outer space as they occurred, while an incessant babble of voices mocked its pain and failures. It was torture with no beginning or end. There was only pain, voices, and eternal darkness.

At first, it had tried to scream, an act rendered futile by empty lungs and lack of air. It had tried, again and again, until its unnatural body broke inside, adding new layers of pain where none could fit. It was a torment only the gods could have devised… and so, the creature realised, only they could save it.

The monster then started to pray. It begged the Pantheon and its daemons, calling their names, and making promises and bargains it could not keep. Anyone or anything that would hear its pleas.

And from the depths of the Warp, one such entity answered.

☀☀☀

Twilight knew something was wrong from the moment the ship entered the Immaterium.

In theory, the jump was to be a short one. It had to. Given the instability of the system and the relative proximity to the destination, any minute spent in the Warp would add increasingly more imprecision to their journey, with a high risk of getting lost or being so far off course that it would simply doom their mission. She was to make the vessel pass through the veil and back for less than a minute, threading a needle with a tread the size of a small town.

This kind of exercise required a mastery of Warp travel many navigators only acquired through years of practice and extensive bonding with the ship and its spirit. Twilight had none of that. Her only tool was an unshakable sense of duty, her powers and her unbroken willpower.

The Equustode had nothing to rely on and was ready for the worst. It came as soon as they left material space.

Twilight felt it before the alarm rang. The Last Barrier did not skip on the surface of the ether. It sank like a sponge tied to an anchor. In a matter of seconds, it was submerged by a sea of madness, and she was the last pocket of air keeping it afloat. She could feel her body, mind and soul on the brink of tearing apart and the Warp trying to worm into the cracks.

Several excruciating seconds passed before the alarms rang, signalling the total failure of every system of the Last Barrier. But even through pain, Twilight stayed focused. The success of the mission, the fate of the entire galaxy, and the trust of the Empress rested on her shoulders.

And she was not alone. Not anymore.

With dredges of strength she did not think she had, Twilight blinked at her retinal display, opening the vox channel of Rarity. Then, she uttered three words, hoping it would be enough.

“Shut... it... off...”

☀☀☀

The alarms hit Rarity with the strength of a tsunami.

She was instantly overloaded with conflicting information and emergency signals. The machine spirit screamed at her in agony as something attacked it from every possible – and sometimes impossible – angle. The empathic pain was staggeringly overwhelming. She stood in shock as wave after wave of new desecrations popped into her data streams. She struggled to find the root of it all, trying and failing to make sense of the deluge of input. The source of the problem eluded her. Any outlier was lost to the sea of nonsense she was flooded in. Flows of corrupting data submerged her, whirling in her brain without rhyme, reason, beginning, or end.

Rarity was drowning.

And then Twilight’s voice came, like a lifeline, her priority signal cutting through the streams of input like a battleship through the surge. “Shut it off.”

And immediately, Rarity found her footing again. “Shut it off”. Those words were so rich in information. Something was causing this. Singular. And she was in a position to stop it. It gave her a base, a solid ground to work on.

She proceeded by elimination, filtering out system after system, finally able to ignore the background noise to find out the root of the problem, the heart of the maëlstrom. It quickly showed up, and Rarity watched in awe a phenomenon she had never thought possible. Despite a fully functional field, the Warp drive was channelling the chaos energies directly inside the vessel.

They did not move into the Immaterium as much as it was moving through them and it was tearing the Last Barrier apart.

It was fascinating in its own right – heretical in nature, but fascinating nonetheless. Someone had devised a way to attack a ship as they entered the Warp... For a second, she wondered if she could tame this power for herself, gift it to her chapter, to the Imperium, to Mars itself... The moment passed, and Rarity erased the thought. She had her orders. She knew what had to be done.

“I got it, Equustode,” she whispered, as she rerouted systems.

The techmare quickly assessed the situation. The ship would be beyond repair in less than twenty minutes and likely unable to navigate way before that. Passed thirty, it would assumably self-destruct due to its multiple system failures. Rarity was too far from the engines to shut them down, and the process would be too long anyway. Even though it pained her, the only solution was swift and total destruction.

“To anyone in the enginarium and its surrounding,” she sent through the vox and the vessel communication system. “I want you to shut down the Warp engine, by any means, as soon as possible.”

Time was of the essence now. All she could do was to make sure the Last Barrier would still be able to reach its destination.

☀☀☀

The engine rooms and their surrounding were in utter chaos. The clash of fights had eclipsed the noise of dying machines. Tools were used as weapons, and the massive fuel-delivering pipes as cover. The crew of the Last Barrier was not facing its first boarding, but they were outclassed, outnumbered and out of their depths. Rainbow Dash had tried to help them but quickly realised that the ponies were beyond help. Now she killed for the sake of killing, waiting for an opportunity to turn the tide to arise.

“Dash, where are you‽” Applejack called through the vox. By the tone of her voice and the noise around her, she was clearly in a similar situation. “I need you to cover our flanks!”

“I’m a bit busy at the moment!” the rainbow-maned warmare shouted back.

“Stop playing around!”

Rainbow Dash’s snappy retort died in her throat as she dodged the thrust of the closest abomination. It was ugliness in nightmare form, a thing of blades and barbs thrashing around without cohesion. And it was not the only one. There were dozens of that thing, all uniquely misshaped and deadly, and dozens more were materialising out of thin air every second. As much as she loathed to acknowledge it, she was losing.

The vox came alive again, to the pegasus’ dismay. “Rainbow!”

“I told you–”

“Duck!”

Rainbow Dash obeyed instinctively, trusting the voice more than her senses. There was a loud deflagration, followed by the hair-raising feel of a high-calibre projectile passing merely centimetres above her head and the very unsatisfying sound of ethereal flesh evaporating upon bullet impact. The creature did not scream or fall. It simply dissipated, mimicking the way it had manifested. The White Scar did not have time to celebrate, however. Two other aberrations immediately replaced the dead one, clobbering and screaming gibberish that made too much sense for sanity.

“We can’t keep up like this,” Rainbow Dash admitted. “We need to cut off the flow of these things, if we want to win.”

“I know,” the pink warmare replied as she shot another Warp spawn. “I think that’s what Rarity want us to deal with.”

“Really? I didn’t pay attention,” she admitted while another creature died under her hooves. “I was too busy kicking ass. Or whatever those things have.”

“That’s what you do best~” Pinkamena sang.

Rainbow Dash grinned at the compliment. While the pegasus always backed her bravado with acts, Pinkamena was the only one who played along and encouraged her in that way. She could feel a unique camaraderie with Death Spectre. Rainbow Dash almost wished the planet had been attacked sooner so she could have shared this bond earlier.

The two spacemares moved in perfect harmony, completing their fighting style like the point and edge of a blade. They carved a path among the etheric creatures with swiftness and precision. Every movement was a show of impeccability born of necessity. They were walking on a silk thread in a room filled with endless blades. They had to show perfection or die.

A vicious blow went in Pinkamena’s direction. Rainbow deflected it and killed the aggressor in one swift move. “So... what’s Rarity’s plan?” Rainbow Dash asked through gritted teeth.

“She wants us to turn off the Warp engine.”

Incredulity almost made her miss her beat. Almost. “What?”

In the distance, another aberration died, one of its heads pierced by a combat knife. “Don’t ask me,” Pinkamena shrugged.

Rainbow did not pry. Unnecessary thoughts were a dangerous distraction.

"We must reach Applejack."

☀☀☀

Applejack progressed steadily. Each step was fought for with increasing desperation.

“Keep pushing!!” She shouted to the ponies around her. “Keep pushing! We’re almost there!”

The ponies lacked the organisation and discipline of the DPs, but they obeyed nonetheless. Whether it was out of deference for the warmare or sheer survival instinct, it did not matter to Applejack. She needed to get to a somewhat defensible position, preferably before those aberrations tore them all apart.

In the distance, a pocket of resistance, bunkered inside a maze of pipes beckoned them, while trying to fend off the swarm. They were so close, yet so far. It would have been easy to break off the fight and run toward salvation. Some of the crewpony did and were shredded immediately by the rabid hordes. But Applejack could easily do it. She only had to let the ponies around her die.

Twenty metres to the objective. Nineteen. Eighteen.

We won’t make it, Applejack realised.

"Rainbow, if you want to make a dramatic entrance, it’s now or never!" she yelled to the vox.

"One dramatic entrance for the Imperial Hoof!" the pegasus shouted back.

There was an explosion to her left, followed by a rainbow-coloured smoke screen. All of a sudden the pressure around Applejack and the crew lifted. All at once they went on again, faster and faster towards their objective.

“Took you long enough,” Applejack simply stated crushing a blue mass of eyes and tentacles under her heavy bolter.

Rainbow Dash grinned. “Yeah sorry, the corridors were kinda crowded.”

“You know how clingy demons can be...” Pinkamena added.

“Glad to have you back,” Applejack said with a tired but sincere smile. Now we have a chance, she added mentally.

The last ten metres felt like pushing through concrete. The hordes of Warp-spawns were endless, while every crew member’s death was a compromising loss.

Five metres. Applejack was using her bolter as a club. There was no time to reload, no time to aim, to shoot, or even think. There was only battle, death, and going forward.

Four metres. There were less than twenty crewponies now.

Three metres. Only twelve left.

Two metres. The makeshift bunker flashed in and out in the few gaps between the row of abominations.

One metre… Seven ponies left.

Zero.

All of a sudden, everything changed. Tired civilians rushed them in, and then the pressure was gone. The acrid smell of sweat and fear, the screams of rage and pain of ponies fighting and dying, the red of lasgun shots and the yellow of bullet detonations… They were still here, but it was happening around them and not to them anymore.

Applejack didn’t rest. With expert moves, she reloaded and started to shoot the monsters outside.

Rainbow Dash sent a critical glance at the defensive spot around her. It barely fitted the title. Scraps and debris served as a makeshift barricade along with the corpses of the fallen. It was a grim and pitiful sight, but it kept the crew alive and gave them a fighting chance. Right now, it was all they could ask for.

“So what’s the situation?” Rainbow Dash asked, switching to a private channel. The situation was bad enough without making the morale of those ponies worse.

Applejack didn’t care about her considerations and spoke aloud. The crew had a right to know what would happen. “We’re surrounded, but this part of the engine room is under control. We lost most of the other sectors in this part of the ship. The bridge is safe for now.” She looked around, checking the sorry state her “troops” were in. “We won’t be able to keep this up for long. If we can’t get rid of them, they will win through sheer numbers.”

“Then we just need to stop the flow,” Pinkamena said matter-of-factly, siding with Rainbow Dash by speaking in private.

“Great idea,” Applejack deadpanned. “How?”

“Am I the only one listening to Rarity?” Pinkamena asked in a mockingly exasperated manner. “She has a plan. But first, we must destroy the warp drive.”

Applejack shook her head. “It’s lost to these monsters. Reaching it would be too costly.”

“Not more than staying here and die,” Rainbow Dash retorted.

Applejack shot an angry glance at the pegasus but kept her angry reply to herself. Rainbow Dash was right. Sooner or later, they would run out of ammunition and die. If they even survived that long. She glanced at the crew. The bunkered ponies had bolstered their numbers back to thirty. Maybe forty. Good enough to keep that position, but far from enough for a sortie.

She took a deep breath, let go of her pride and turned toward Rainbow. “What’s your plan then?”

“You’re asking me?” Rainbow Dash let out with a quiet laugh. “You’re Imperial Hoove. Your chapter is the one making plans.”

“And yours is specialised in hit-and-runs,” Applejack answered humbly. “What would you do?”

“Do you have to ask?” – Rainbow pointed toward the Warp drive’s room. – “Rush through and destroy the engine.”

Applejack waited for some elaboration. None came. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?” the cyan warmare shrugged. “We don’t have any vehicle, and I have no fuel left in my jetpack, we have no time, and they outnumber us ten to one. We go in spear formation and cleave a path. There’s nothing else we can do. We rush through it. That’s it.”

Applejack looked at the mortals around them. They were looking at the warmares with exhausted, worried looks. They didn't have all the context of the conversation, but they understood clearly that their life was on the line... and that they didn't have a say in it.

"What about the crew?" she finally asked.

Rainbow Dash sighed. "Listen. I know you want to protect them. I want to do it too." For the first time since she'd joined the bunker, the White Scar looked at them. They were simple ponies. Mortals. Weak and fragile. They counted on her, betting on her for their survival. Rainbow denied them in one sentence, spoken in secret. "We have a duty towards the Empress and the Imperium, not them."

Applejack finally relented. “Fine. I suppose you want the spearhead?" The confident grin on Rainbow was all the answer she needed. "Pushing through from here to the Warp drive will be tough, though. Think you can carry us?”

“Can pegasi fly?” the White Scar said her smile going from confident to cocky.

“Pinkie, you’ll support me in the rear. We must ensure our flanks and back are safe enough to support Rainbow..”

“Okidokiloki!”

Applejack took a deep breath, then turned toward the mortal ponies. “We leave in thirty seconds,” she informed.

The ponies looked at each other with despair. Their worst fears had just been confirmed.

“Wait for my signal,” she ordered.

The crewponies shifted uncomfortably and gathered the various weapons scattered around. They didn’t dare contradict one of the Empress’ angels, but this plan was suicide. Surely the warmares could see that?

“Better die for the Imperium than live for yourself,” Applejack recited as an answer to their silent questions. There was little else she could do to assuage their fears. They were in a hurry. They had a mission. If they all had to die to accomplish it then so be it.

“Where is Fluttershy?” Applejack asked as she secured her weapon. We could really use her help right now, she added mentally.

“She’s busy,” the pink pony managed to articulate with a knife in her mouth.

Unease filled Applejack. “How busy?”

“She’s seeing Angel again,” Rainbow Dash simply stated.

Applejack swore. Of all moments for her to lose it…

The thirtieth second ticked. Rainbow blasted through the bunker’s wall and started to fend off the hordes.

“For the Empress”, Applejack whispered as she followed.

☀☀☀

The Last Barrier was growling in pain. Void ships were never still nor silent – their birth was the roar of giant engines, and their death was a fiery scream among the stars – but there was something utterly wrong about how its insides rumbled and twisted. To anyone paying attention, it was clear that the imperial vessel was dying a painful and ugly end.

Fluttershy, however, did not care. Her mind was as removed from the death throes of the Last Barrier as one could be. She ran across its corridors, oblivious to the creatures roaming it, crushing them neglectingly under her massive frame. The dreadnought barely registered their presence in fact, she seldom noticed anything. Something else entirely had caught her undivided attention: an apparition, a visual glitch, a ghost, an anomaly who persisted in front of her. It was herding her toward a goal she could not yet understand.

It had been almost nothing at first, a mere artefact in her sensors. But it had grown more and more defined until it became more real than her surroundings. Soon she could see its shape, and instead of it glitching from one place to another in a random pattern, she could actually see it move. It was small, even considering her size. A white silhouette hopping around, guiding her through hallways and deserted rooms, oblivious to her and the daemons but keeping up with her pace.

The white presence preceded, and Fluttershy followed. She was not sure why, but she knew she had to. She could feel it with a certainty she could now explain. She was needed. And she would answer the call.

☽☾

“This plan is terrible! You bargained our souls for nothing!”

It-that-stayed did not listen.

It had been told to wait, to be patient, that its hour would come soon. Hope had been offered, and it clung to it fiercely. The babble of the heads meant nothing to it now.

It had been two hours, thirty-three minutes and twenty seconds since the presence had reached it. And the head had been ranting nonstop for the whole time. It was ordinary, but now, there was something almost soothing about it. As if the deal had removed all of the head’s power, all of the aggravation it could cause. The aberration was now strangely at peace, almost lulled by the increasingly frantic monologue. It-that-hoped took it as an additional blessing from its new patron.

Had the monstrosity known about this, it would have sought such a deal long ago.

“This is way bigger than us!” the desperate head continued. “You cannot deal with daemons! You cannot bet my soul in your stupidity!”

It-that-heard disinterestedly watched it complain. Not so far ago, it would have tried to catch it and kill it, despite the futility of the act – the head would simply regrow after some time. The nagging noggin used to stay carefully out of reach, enjoying the abomination’s futile attempts, but now… it was desperate, careless… so close. Now, It-that-drifted could simply grab it. But it did not. On a primal level, it savoured the reversal of their position, relished in the head’s anguish.

Deep down, it knew that Head-who-blabbered had a point. This deal was too good to be true. The aberration was less than nothing to the Gods and their servants. It was an error, floating in the middle of nowhere, with no power nor importance. That anything would pay attention to it – let alone a powerful daemon – was, to say the least, highly suspicious. Had it been in its right mind, It-that-was-indebted would have refused the offer, conscious that the short-term gains likely were not worth the price. But it was not in its right mind. The mere concept was laughable.

Freedom, peace… It was all that mattered.

The moment drew nearer by the second. It could feel it. It was a constant, growing tug in its misshaped chest, like the gravity pull of a dead star. It pressed the gift of the emissary of the gods with delight. The points of the strange item pierced its flesh, drawing black ichor that froze instantly. The pain made it feel good this time. There was something familiar about it. Something reassuring. Like a memory from a previous life. The creature pressed it again, harder.

The moment was close, so close… It could almost see the threads of the destiny it was now a part of. It was something way more significant than it. It was something magnificent, empire-shattering.

Yes. It would be good. The daemon had told it about the plan. It had used words too big for It-that-obeyed, but the aberration had understood one thing. The Gods shall be pleased. And it would have helped.

“Are you listening to me you degenerate freak? Listen to me!” demanded the voice.

“IT HAS COME ONCE AND WILL COME AGAIN!” shouted another head, floating closer.

It-that-was-bound-to-fate ignored them.

“Shut up!” the complainer shouted back. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”

“IT HAS COME ONCE AND WILL COME AGAIN! THE WILL OF FATE IS INEXORABLE! THE PRIN–”

“I don’t care! None of us does! I don’t want to bargain my soul to the Gods!”

The words did not affect it – they never lingered long in the creature’s malfunctioning mind. It was waiting.

It was all that mattered.

When the time came, It-with-a-mission felt it in its flesh. It was so close, just a few more seconds, a few more heartbeats. In its chest, the heat was becoming unbearable, a searing blade pressed against its heart. Power enveloped it, and then everything…

☀☀☀

It was a massacre. There were no other words. Rainbow Dash did not need to see it. The uproar of the fight behind her and the never-ending screams of the dying was enough to form an idea. She filtered most of it out. She had to focus on going forward. They could not stop. Rainbow Dash pushed onward with all her might and hoped the survivors would follow. They had to keep going.

Applejack was tireless. From an unmovable bastion, she had become a deadly typhoon. She was everywhere at once, consolidating the progress Rainbow Dash was giving them, covering both flanks and supporting the mortal ponies. Abominations fell left and right under her hooves. Even silent, her gun was still deadly. Yet, she could not help but wonder if that would be enough. But they had no choice. She had no choice.

“Forward!” the earth warmare screamed. “Forward darnit! Don’t stop! For the Empress and Ponyville We have to keep going!”

Many questions passed through Pinkamena’s head, but they all floated around without sticking. All save for one. How can I keep the enemy at bay? Nothing else mattered. Even if she was to delay them for one second, or even less than that, she had to do it. No matter the cost. And so she used every trick in her book. She sliced and shot and killed and broke and ran and stood… There was no careful planning nor sabotage, no discretion, no cunning. She acted on instinct, moment by moment. She had to be loud, visible and in the thick of the crowd. And when that wasn't enough, she had to choose whose death was more beneficial. It was the only way to ensure they could keep going.

They had to keep going. And so they did.

☀☀☀

They truly understood the scope of the invasion when they reached the warp engine itself. Creatures of the immaterium appeared at an alarming pace, outgrowing their loss three to one. Applejack quickly realised only one course of action could lead them to success… one with dire implications. She could feel the tension rise among the crew as more and more of them died or realised how truly hopeless their situation was.

She had no choice. She had known it would come to that from the moment she had accepted Rainbow’s plan. She still felt she had betrayed the mortals surrounding her as she raised her weapon and aimed it at the engines.

“Ponies of the Last Barrier!” she screamed, her amplified voice raising above the thundering blasts of her weapon. “Destroy that thing! May our lives pave the way to victory!”

The crewponies lacked the organisation and discipline of the DPs, but they obeyed nonetheless. In a better world, they would have been celebrated as heroes. In this one, they were just bait, sacrifices to give Applejack a few extra seconds.

A scream of rage escaped her lips, as she started to move forward. Curses, anathemas and fire were thrown at the engine demanding its compliance and destruction. The weapon came alive delivering a deluge of furious bolt rounds on the cursed machine. Dozens of explosive rounds crashed on the mass of corrupted metal, dealing no substantial damage save for cracks and sparkles. Applejack’s ammunition melted under the assault to no avail.

"Pinkie‽ Rainbow‽ I need a hoof!"

"I got you!" somepony answered.

Applejack never learned who threw the grenade. She didn’t ask and didn’t care. It went smoothly through a narrow hole she had shot into the engine as if guided by the Empress herself. There was a lul… then the warp drive imploded. It felt unprompted as if the engine had decided to self-destruct of its own volition. There was a loud crack as the engine collapsed on itself.

Then everything…

☽☾

...turned white.

Author's Notes:

"There are no bystanders in the war of life and death, no place the battle cannot reach; so fight it without remorse or relenting, for death will surely do the same."
— Cavallo Romano della Maremma Laziale Valdor

"Whatever the weapons we wield, whatever the deeds we perform, they are justified. Without us, the Golden Throne would fall, and without the Emperor to guide them, Humanity would follow."
— Ganequus Talorn

"Remember what we fight for, my comrades. The sanctity and safety of the Golden Throne itself, the safety of the very Master of Mankind, relies upon our victory here this day. Now raise your spears, gird your minds and souls, and let us banish these vile Daemons so that we may once more say we did our duty."
— Captain Trojan Valoris

It is done. The next chapter was already outlined so hopefully I should be able to release it ~~before the end of the year~~ soon. Thanks again for your patience and hope you enjoyed this one!

Part II - Chapter 12 - The Mare in the Moon

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“Captain? We have a signal.”

“What kind?”

“Nightmare war era, Daughter of Luna. Emergency beacon. Primare’ch. It’s her Captain.”

“Close in on it and triple check everything. Once confirm, prepare the thunderhawk and give the word to squad one and three. We’re going as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Captain!”

☽☾

Every inch of the Somnum carried scars from wars ponykind had tried to forget. Night Terror remembered each one of them. Every battle, every boarding, every ship rammed, every mutiny, every betrayal, every death and every kill this ship had known, she had carved into her memory so that she never lost sight of her goal, of the ideals scarred into her by the Warmistress. Decades, centuries of lonely crusades to prove a point, to resurrect the ghost of sedition the Imperium had tried to exorcise…

As she got close to her private quarters, she realised that, despite the constant reassurance of the Sorcerer, she never truly thought that they would succeed, that they would actually pull the Warmistress back from her prison. Even now, she still doubted. No. It wasn’t doubt. It was something else, something she was ashamed to even think consciously. It was apprehension, fear even. Fear of the future… fear of Her. But fear was a weakness. It had to be suppressed, to be buried alive by her will and determination until it suffocated.

Still lost in her introspections, Night Terror pressed the hoof-identification pad next to the door and entered her room.

By any standards, Night Terror’s quarters were austere, bordering on hostile. They greeted you with an imposing war banner of the Luna’s Bats framed by an oppressive lack of furniture. This arrangement was highly satisfying to the warmare, both aesthetically and pragmatically. The lack of distraction was pleasing. It gave little to no unnecessary information to anyone who’d make the mistake of seeking her here, except for her allegiance and her asceticism. It also made it very easy for her to detect intrusions and lay traps.

And traps there were. Dozens of them, a collection of blades and guns and monomolecular strings and gases and sonic weapons. Every way of dealing with undesirable guests, stacked wall to wall, from floor to ceiling, hidden all around, placed in complex patterns. A few of them were just camouflaged enough to be seen by a sufficiently attentive pony: a warning to the weak and bait to the overconfident.

Night Terror was neither, and this had ensured both the survival of the Bats and her continued place as their leader. If anyone wanted to usurp her, they would have to be better than her in every aspect that mattered. And as far as she was concerned, there was only one such mare.

Methodically, she carved her way through the traps. Her moves were precise and purposeful, treating each trap as a foe as if they had been placed there by a hostile force. This was the only way to deny habit, to make sure her confidence didn’t blind her to one of her rival’s assassination attempts.

To her satisfaction, nobody had tried this time.

Once she was done, she pressed her hoof on the pressure plate unlocking her personal armoury. The wall hissed and groaned menacingly before splitting in two, revealing a treasure trove of weapons, relics, and other pieces of equipment. Most were trophies or stolen loot won after a life of pillage. All of them, proofs of her many victories, of her achievements. Of her survival.

They meant little to her. The prize lay in the centre, battered by war and scarred by hundreds of blows: her power armour. It was an obsolete model by this millennium's standard. It had been green at some point, in another life. She had repainted it herself during the first Dark Crusade after she stole the Somnum Extereri from the Night Legion. This had been the founding of the Luna’s Bats. She had kept it ever since, refusing to switch to more practical or recent power armour.

It was a statement.

She called her servitor-artificer, carefully put the pieces of armour on the dedicated altar, and readied herself. She slowly disrobed, revealing her scar-ridden physique and the stumps where her wings had once been. The cold air clawed at them viciously, filling her pain receptors with unpleasant tingling. After all this time, her body still could not forget. She willed away the phantom pain and waited.

The servitor arrived swiftly, as was expected. What was not expected was the presence of the Sorcerer. His arrogant steps clashed with the fumble of the lobotomised pony he escorted. Night Terror took a deep breath through gritted teeth. While the Sorcerer had kept his word and learned his place, she still hated him and his coming to her space felt like a violation. But she was not petty enough to let him die in her room.

“If I were you,” she said coldly before he even reached the entrance, “I would not take a step further.”

“I am not foolish enough to dare enter your lair,” he said. She could hear the smirk in his voice, but she could also sense his wariness and smell the hints of carefully suppressed fear in his sweat as he stopped a few metres before the door. “I thought you established I was no threat to you, Champion.”

The servitor, an ageing, green-furred, bald stallion with metal plates covering a good part of his head and back, continued his unstable walk in the room, straight into the armoury. Night Terror watched him as he gathered the tools of his craft. Once he was done, she placed herself on a small platform and waited for him to start.

“If you thought even for a second that I was worried about myself, you’re more arrogant than I imagined.”

“Then–”

“This servitor is more precious than you’ll ever be,” she lied, cutting his pointless question short. “I do not want your taint to affect it.”

The Sorcerer chuckled. “I didn’t think you were superstitious, Champion.”

“Merely careful.”

“I will respect your wish then.”

“You do not have a choice in the matter.”

“Good point,” he admitted with fair play as he sat on the spot.

Night Terror waited for him to state his intent, but to her growing frustration, he seemed satisfied with staying there as she got geared. “Standing in a warmare’s territory can still be seen as a provocation,” she hissed as the servitor placed her breastplate in place.

“If my presence offends you, just say the word and I will leave.”

It’s too late for that, Night Terror thought, and almost retorted. She didn’t though. This docility was unusual, and it put her on edge, made her cautious. The Sorcerer had toyed with her nerves for years now. Even after she had snapped at him, he had been pushing the boundaries, just more subtly. There was no reason for him to stop now. If humility was a lesson he could learn, he would have done so long ago.

No, she guessed. This is just another of his games. She decided to play along. “Your obedience and restraint are refreshing.”

“There is power in rituals,” the Sorcerer said thoughtfully. “One should only disturb them at their own perils.”

As her servitor finished fixing her forward legs’ armours, Night Terror reflexively raised a hoof and checked the interfacing. The low, imperceptible whirr of the servos and the unmistakable weight of the plate made her feel complete again. She had missed this.

“What do you mean?” she asked, presenting her hind legs to the servitor.

The sorcerer tapped his hoof softly on the ground. “I’m sure I’m not teaching you anything, Champion,” he said, trying – and failing – to sound humble. “Every group or even pony that lives long enough starts to develop its own. Mine are more –” he paused, looking for a good euphemism “– obvious than yours, but even a complete stranger like me can sense the importance of you donning your full garb and weapons.”

The thought angered her. It was too accurate to her liking. “You are looking too deep into things, Sorcerer.”

“Isn’t it why you recruited me? To find meaning in the most insignificant details?”

“No. I tolerated you to free my mistress from her prison.”

“Which requires me to peer into the ebbs and flows of the Materium and Immaterium.”

“I tire of this conversation,” the spacemare spat. Without consideration for her serf’s work, she left the armoury getting in full sight of her interlocutor. With her leg plates on and him sitting in front of her, the size difference was even more intimidating. Her hooves were almost as big as his head and certainly twice as heavy. Their mere existence was a threat. Night Terror fixed him with burning hatred and contempt.

“Tell me what you want,” she articulated.

“I–I cannot hide anything from you,” he stammered as he tried to keep his composure. “I have… an humble request. I would like to come with you on the moon. To greet the Warmistress. I thin–”

“No.”

For a few seconds, the whirs of omnitools were the only sounds in the room. Undeterred by the new situation, the serf was going back and forth between the armour and its mistress, putting the plates one by one with determined inefficiency.

“May I know why?” he said hesitantly.

His body was so tense, NIght Terror could almost hear the pained tension in his muscles as his flight reflex slowly took over his body. She wanted to feel good about it, but she couldn’t care.

“This is a spacemare’s matter, Sorcerer,” she sentenced.

“I see… Will I be able to see her at least?”

“If such is her desire.”

Mechanical noises rose again, walling the space between the warmare and the psyker.

“Then I pray the Gods my humble self graces her thoughts,” he commented as lightly as he could given the circumstances.

Her voice was cold as the muzzle of a bolter on his temple when she answered. “A word of advice, Sorcerer, the Warmistress hates power-hungry schemers. Way more skilful ponies than you have tried to get into her good graces and tried to use her for their own goals –” she lowered her head toward him as much as the armour-donning process would allow. “– The lucky ones got away without their faces.”

“I… I will keep that in mind.”

“Be sure that you do.”

They looked each other in the eyes for a few heartbeats. To Night Terror’s surprise, the Sorcerer dared talk back without lowering his gaze.

“It’s obvious that you hate me, Champion and I don’t care much that you do. I didn’t come here to be loved, and I know that a mortal is not welcome among warmares. But I served you nonetheless. I fulfilled my purpose with diligence without betraying your trust. Yet your hatred of me never diminished, and now that the Warmistress at hoof’s reach, you seem to despise me even more. Why?”

“I do not owe you any explanation,” she finally said after a few moments of silence. “Now if you’re done, you presence offends me.”

For the third time, mechanical noises conquered the space between them and when the Sorcerer left, his steps were drowned in them.

☽☾

The thunderhawk landed weightlessly on the moon’s grey, dry rock. Dust scattered around, barely held by the weak gravity and lack of atmospheric pressure. Night Terror looked at the scanner results. Ponyville’s new moon was a desolate, cold rock. If it ever had an atmosphere, life or any interesting features, they had been thoroughly stripped down during its sejour in the Warp. The monochrome landscape was barren and repetitive. A nightmare for any kind of effective scouting. Even with the help of the ship’s scanners, they had thousands of acres to explore and no landmarks to help.

She was tired already.

She turned toward her mares. Only two squadrons, hoofpicked for the occasion. They were her oldest, most faithful. Those who believed in her vision and still had ideals other than “pillage” and “survival”. She felt a twinge of melancholy when she realised that only three of them were actually former Daughters of Luna. That made four of them left in the Bats since the death of Crimson Hoves. Once upon a time, there were a hundred of them, all under her command… They had fallen hard, but now was the time to rise again.

“We go slowly and methodically,” she commanded without preamble. “I want each squad entirely at vox distance at any time, and I want all of you to have visual on at least one other squadmate. We check on each other every ten and on the other squad every twenty. We comb the area and leave as many markers as possible.” She took a deep breath and watched each of her warmare in the eyes before putting her helmet on. It pressurised with a soft exhalation and various glyphs turned on in her visual display. Nineteen names blinked to readiness as the spacemares followed her example. The door of the transport ship opened at last. Night Terror was the first out. She stepped on the ugly stone of a moon and inhaled deeply.

“Bats. It’s time. We were born for this. Luna Surgit.”

“Luna Surgit!” They answered in perfect unison.

Without further words, the twenty warmares stepped outside and started to look for their primare’ch.

☽☾

Monotonous minutes stretched into monotonous hours without any hints of progress. It was to be expected, but the tedium was eroding Night Terror’s patience and revealing the doubts underneath. What was she doing here, exploring the surface of a barren rock in the middle of nowhere, following the whims of a chaos priest, clinging to a barely registerable signal on the Somnum’s scanners? What was she doing here? What had she done in the past decades?

She pushed back those traitorous voices back into the recesses of her mind. I am looking for the Warmistress, she told herself. I am finishing my mission. Nothing else matters.

She had bet her life on this quest. This was her last gambit. The time for doubt was long gone.

A vox rune blinked in her retinal display, interrupting her thoughts. Comet Tail. A relatively recent recruit, accurate marksmare, and excellent tactician. Night Terror opened the vox link to the whole squad. Just in case.

“Captain?”

“Yes.”

“I’m picking some weird readings at my two. About three hundred metres ahead.”

“Elaborate.”

“Hard to say… The vox’s picking up voices but it’s too faint. At first I thought of a glitch, but it’s persistent.”

“Vox echoes are better than nothing, I say,” Freefall commented. She was one of the most faithful believers in their cause, almost naively so. But she was good at what she did and she would follow Night Terror to Canterlot naked with a rusty knife without question.

“Got the same glitch coming from ‘round the same part too,” Hard Collapse groaned. “Started between three and seven minutes ago.”

Night Terror immediately stopped. Hard Collapse was her most veteran warmare. She had more than a century of experience over every other Bat, including herself. Her loyalty was one of the main reasons even the most seditious elements of her chapter wouldn’t dare cross her. Her word was the only law besides hers.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Freefall asked.

“Vox been acting up for days. Wanted to be sure.–” Hard Collapse made a guttural noise. “–Don’t like those voices. Warp-stink.”

“What do we do, Captain? We ignore?” Comet Tail asked.

“No,” she decided after careful consideration. “But we have to be meticulous about it. Mark your current position and warn the second squad. We’re closing onto the source. Keep visual contact with at least two Bats at all time. Weapons at the ready.”

“Aye!” they all answered.

It didn’t take long for Night Terror to hear the voices herself, and just as long to find their source from then. It was hidden in plain sight: a narrow tunnel worming its way into the dusty crust of the moon. It was well hidden by the shadows of the topography. Even with their previous approach, they might have missed it, she realised.

The entrance was small. It was big enough for a spacemare to go in, but not by much. Manoeuvring inside would be difficult.

“Not great.” Hard Collapse grunted. “Could be a trap.”

“Could be,” Night Terror agreed. In such a tight space, they would be at a severe disadvantage. And yet. “Only one way to know.”

“Yeah.”

“I volunteer to go in,” Freefall chimed in.

“No,” Night Terror said. “I will go in. You all secure the perimeter, warn the other squad and the Somnum.” She turned toward the tunnel. The mere fact of facing it made the voices louder. “Collapse, you’re in charge while I’m gone. If I’m not out in thirty minutes, do whatever you think is necessary.”

“Aye.”

“Good luck, Captain,” Freefall said gravely.

“Luck is for the weak,” she answered emotionlessly. Then, she entered the tunnel.

☽☾

Night Terror quickly lost all track of time. It had no meaning here. As soon as she had come inside, her vox stopped working. The runes in her display had blinked in and out without rime nor reason before she decided to shut her display down entirely. She was cut off from her squad.

But she was far from alone.

███████████ lies broken at the hooves of a mare twice her size. Her forelegs are crushed, pinned under the other mare’s hooves. Her wings are being crunched almost neglectfully by magic so strong it defies comprehension. She knows that she will never fly again. Her wings are beyond recognition, beyond repair… but not beyond pain. ███████████ knows the mare didn’t simply rip them off to teach her a lesson. To make sure she remembers the price of her failure on this night. The mare speaks, the words are unintelligible, yet they stick in ███████████’s mind. Something in her breaks. Something new is forcefully put in its place.

The voices were louder than ever, screaming with a voice that was hers but speaking words that died aeons ago or were yet to be born, and with them came visions of the past and futures yet to come.

███████████ is stuck. The table she’s bolted on is cold, uncomfortable and sticky with her blood. The pain had receded just enough for her to regain some lucidity. Her tormentor looked at her handiwork with tenderness. She’s speaking. ███████████ listens. A question is asked. Night Terror answers.

Yet Night Terror keep walking forward. Something deep inside her told her she was reaching her goal. A pull growing stronger with each step. She could almost guess the distance, if such a thing had even a sense in the psychic miasma she was progressing in.

“You’re almost there, Night,” said her voice.
“Your journey’s almost done, Terror,” said her voice at the same time.

It was hard to tell at this point if it was her thoughts, a hallucination or spirits trying to trick her. She tried to focus her thought on her objective.

“The Warmistress is at hoof.”
“Your mistress is close.”

The more she focused, the harder it became to ignore them. In fact, they were getting so loud and clear, she could barely hear anything else.

“It’s time to end this.”
“It’s time to start anew.”

Night Terror stepped up. She had to find the Warmistress quickly.

Night Terror opens the room of a cell. A warmare is chained inside. She’s barely alive. She looks at Night Terror with a mix of horror, pity and… relief. Night Terror comes closer. The warmare gather her strength to talk. It’s a long and painful process. Night Terror is right in front of her now. The warmare speaks. Two words. Night Terror raises her hoof and…

“Kill her.”

Night Terror’s hearts are weakly pumping her blood out of her body. Her injuries are too severe and numerous for even her warmare constitution to heal them in time. She’s dying. A warmare is coming close. The warmare asks her a question. Night Terror hesitates. After all she did does she have the right to…

“Bring her back.”

She didn’t realise she had reached the Primare’ch until she was close enough to touch. It was not merely the lack of light – when did her flashlight turn off? – or the hallucinations that had impeded her senses. It was simply that the psychic wall around the Warmistress was so thick that her brain refused to process her unless it took too much space to be ignored.

The Primare’ch sat at the very end of the tunnel as if her armoured body had been carved from the rock by a sculptor too afraid of the perfection of their creation to finish the job and carve her out. Her head was pointing toward the ceiling as if dozens of meters of rock couldn’t stop her from aiming at the stars. Her eyes were closed, her body still, but her hearts boomed slowly in the warmare’s ears. The sound crashed on her like soundwaves, cleaning the air from the putrid Warp miasma.

Here she was. The Warmistress. In the flesh. Alive.

Almost despite herself, Night Terror extended her hoof towards the sleeping Primare’ch.

“Finish your mission.”
“Finish your journey.”

Touching the Warmistress fell like grasping at a lightning bolt. Every hair of her fur, mane and tail rose as torrents of energy escaped the Primare’ch through her. The heartbeats grew even louder, faster, steadier. She was waking up. It was a matter of seconds now… inside her, a voice exulted. Inside her, a voice screamed.

The Warmistress opened her eyes. The heartbeats vanished, leaving the two mares alone in silent darkness. The Warmistress’ gaze explored her environment slowly, with disinterest, seemingly unaware of the warmare in front of her. After a few seconds of stillness, she finally decided to move. First, she dislodged her head from the rock mould. It was an effortless and fluid move. Dust and rock fell from her face and mane, dislodged from their millennial spot. The whole body followed in the same smooth fashion until she was standing in front of the captain of the Luna’s Bats.

The Warmistress glare fell on Night Terror like the gavel of a judge.

The warmare kneeled and bowed her head to the ground. It was not an action, it was not even a reflex. It was a reaction, the mere consequences of natural laws. Night Terror kneeled in front of her mistress.

“Hail Warmistress.”