Fredericks' lungs were spent, flushed of the air they so desperately needed. His legs, even his arms ached to a torturous degree, yet he continued to fuel them energy he would never have believed he had. His armour made more noise than he had heard it make before, his mad dash provoking his battle-plate, sending out a frantic chorus of clashes with every footfall.

Fiendish creatures! Come to the belly of this sacred craft to devour its treasures! Likened to maggots feasting on a corpse!

The thunder of its voice echoed through his mind, shattering his resolution and scattering any tactical thought into a tempest of fear, only the primal instinct to survive remained, and it screamed at him to flee. His squad was in tow, yet held no formation or tactical advance, they simply ran for their lives.

Begone from this haloed place, flee to the foul nest you sprung from!

And flee he did, flee they all did. The lieutenant clumsily turned a corner he barely realized was there due to the spiderweb of cracks his visor had sustained, Micheals crashing into his left shoulder as her skidded around the turn. Normally the private would receive a vital tongue-lashing, but such menial concerns went completely unnoticed by the orbital trooper.

Jonah

Frederick felt something tug at his mind.

Frederick

Something haunted his senses.

"Lieutenant! Jonah, can you hear me?! Jonah, come in!" Masons' voice roared through the radio in his helmet.

Frederick began to slow down, finally stumbling to a halt and falling to one knee in exhaustion. Some of his squad ran past him, the furthest falling over themselves about a dozen feet ahead of him.

"FUCK!" Frederick spat between his gasps.

"Lieutenant, what the fuck is happening in there?! What was that thing?!" The general cried out.

"That.....that thing....." Frederick failed to finish his sentence through his huff, coughs and panting.

"They're us! I don't know how, but they're us! Something Mega Corp is cooking up or some shit?!" Yuki said shakily

"Mega Corp?! Are you some kind of fucking idiot?! They're fucking aliens you dumb shit!" Another trooper yelled out falling against a bronze, metal wall.

"General, you have to make up your own mind as to what that thing was. We just need to get the hell out of here, right now." Frederick managed to pick himself up and threw a couple of his troopers forward in the effort to get the squad moving again.

"Roger that, but we'll still need to debrief you when you get back. Weapons teams, that ship has angry shit inside, so you see those big-ass turrets so much as twitch, light the whole damn ship up. Lieutenant, if that things' weapons start feeling lively we will not wait for you to get clear before firing. Please, Jonah, don't be on board if we have to get critical on that ship."

"Understood, Frederick out! Troopers, if you're not wearing one billion factor sun-tan lotion I suggest that you move-your-asses!"

---------------------------------------------------------

"I can smell you!-......-hear your breath-.......-re you?!" Mason fast-forwarded to what he wanted to hear most.

It could smell them, hear them, hell, it could probably see them considering what technology they had. But the fact it made note of its' senses being alerted, such a thing was akin to the hunting-growl of a lion. And the troopers had been its game. Mason took note of the tinge of excitement its' voice had, as if it enjoyed the fact it was hunting something. This was clearly a faction of warrior predators, some kind of elite breed of soldier forged by some bizarre alien race.

A race so similar to his own it was frightening beyond compare.

It would seem that Equestria, in fact, all of Epona was the 'coincidence trains' first stop, and this was its' next. The golden statue had revealed the face of this strange race, a face that seemed to have been torn right out of an ancient book about gods and angels. Their brows were exaggerated and strong, as were their jaw lines and cheek-bones. Their musculature was almost comical in its augmentation; vast shoulders,arms like tree-trunks, obscenely thick necks, bulky chests, backs and stomach all held firmly upon equally titanic legs. And the soldier that had encountered Javelin squad had lived up to and then surpassed the impression the sculpture had given, throwing their officer about like a wet rag, taunting them with speech from beyond the ages of technology. Ten specialist troopers had been little more than a squabble of scavenging rats, and had forced such a fright as to have the general order a complete retreat.

Of course, his Olympians could have hoped to capture or at least contain this creature, but the general knew better than to provoke something of such size and of such volatile temperament. Plus, how many more where there aboard the alien vessel? Surely such a craft was not home to merely one lone warrior? Surely it was not he alone who destroyed the monstrosities that had his infiltration team shitting themselves upon seeing? No, there had to be more. Yet another question was whether the others where lesser or greater than the one his men had encountered?

"All squads accounted for, VTOLs are returning to their hangar, sir." A crew man droned.

"General Mason, it's Andrea. Just what is going on, sir. We're in that wreck for no longer than an hour and we're running scared just because we caught a glimpse of one crew member?" The Olympian complained.

"No offense, Olympian, but that 'one crew member' made you look like a damned ten-year-old! General, what's our next step? I for one sure would appreciate not going back there any time soon." Frederick shot back at the Olympian before pleading to his general.

"Ok, guys, I'm at a loss on what to do next. We know that there's crew aboard, but they don't seem too friendly. I'm calling up local command to give them our situation and see what they have to say about it."

"Not if I have anything to say about it, Mason! I'm recalling my 23rd squads to go and take another look inside. But this time, unseen." Dragovich growled over the comms, obviously in his personal command perch towards the top of the ships spine.

"This is beyond us, Dragovich! We call home, we get orders, we act on what they think is the best course of action." Mason barked in return to the general.

"I will not be one of the generals that sat back in fear of a single damaged vessel and its grouchy occupants. And I will certainly not allow you to cry over the phone to HQ just because you're out of ideas!"

"Oh right, because sending in your ghouls is such a great idea." Mason huffed.

"General, let me see it." Doctor Rsenomena marched into the bridge behind Mason, her voice shaking with either excitement or fear was something Mason could not tell.

"Right here." The general replayed the video feed from the mission with a tap on an orange hologram switch.

"This is...incredible.....This is utterly incredible, General! It's a Hominid, another genus of human, without a doubt!" The doctor said agape with awe.

"We can't say anything for sure, doctor. We need to regroup and call this out to the higher-ups." Mason sighed.

"Just look at it, Mason! And the statue! Who could have possibly predicted this? A space-faring race with such religious aesthetics, such decorative and expressive architecture. Religious behavior like this should belong to a regressive culture, not one that travels between planets. And the image of the sculpture, the skeletal layout is all wrong, twisted and exaggerated underneath the muscular system. The rib cages' muscular structure is more wiry and less densely distributed than ours. It must have bone segments weaved throughout the ribs, making it nearly solid! The facial structure is also odd, like it was designed to be more intimidating in appearance on at least a subconscious level-"

"Doctor, please! Just...stop picking this apart. You'll have plenty of time for all this when you get back to your lab, which by the way; Why aren't you in, right now?" Mason queried.

"You really think the data teams have their lips sewn shut? The whole department is screaming about that thing." Natalie gestured to the alien wreck.

"Great, nice to know we have secure lines of communication. Don't think I won't bring this up in disciplinary motive." Mason warned halfheartedly.

"With this in the sky, I don't think we're going to hear from you for the another year."

"Don't remind me." Mason huffed as he switched from looking at the video feed and the alien ship through the observation windows.

"Whatever questions Equestria has brought us, this....this brings up ten times as many. I mean we can dress these guys up as aliens as much as we want to make ourselves feel safe, or sane. But really, there is no way they evolved from a separate genetic line from us. The odds are beyond thinking about." The doctor proposed.

"Are they beyond possibility, Doctor?" Mason asked.

"....No, General. But I'm willing to put my years' wages on this species being, somehow, divided from our at a point in time."

"Then I hope you look forward to eating out of recycling vats for the next year, because I'm not buying it."

"Really, Mason? You can't be that ignorant, I know you're not. Same base physiological traits, same bone layout, same cranial structure, they speak our fucking language, Mason! They're us!" Natalie nearly screamed in frustration.

"Fine, bring me it all in writing with some hard evidence and I'll bite, but for now I get to call them aliens."

"I hail to the commander of this vessel, and seek his audience." The voice was a rumble, like a stampede condensed into words that growled from the bridges' comm channel.

"Where is that coming from?!" Mason barked.

"Where do you think, sir?" A crewman quipped back.

"Great. Uh.....duh, I...am General Henry Mason, Co-Commander of Eponas' Federation forces. Who, uh, am I speaking to?"

"I am Captain Viktur of the Sacrificors Space Marine chapter. I must discuss with you what transpired aboard my ship not long ago." Vikturs' voice made Mason feel like a child being loomed over by an upset parent. Each word was well pronounced in a very deep growl of what could be interpreted as a British accent, only one plucked from medieval times.

"Ah, yeh. Yeh, right, we had a, uh, little encounter with one of your men, Captain. I take it we are not to be wandering the inside of your ship any time soon then?" Mason said with a cringe.

"As much as it pains my first words to be shared with you would set up boundaries between us, I must insist that your forces, indeed, stay clear from the innards of my ship." Viktur seemed understanding, almost resentful of the limitation he presented.

"Uh, I don't think that'll be a problem now, just wanted to know who arrived at our doorstep and all." Mason replied.

"Of course, General. Now, I must ask a favor of you, one I know I have no right to ask considering how I recently evicted your people from my craft, but one of dire urgency." Mason was somewhat taken aback by the aliens' clean mannerisms and level-headed tone.

"Uh...sure, what can I help you with?" Mason said while throwing his eyes about the bridge in search for objection, simply receiving shrugs and awkward looks in return.

"My marines and I hold with us a very sacred cargo that is the utmost import to us. We planned to see ourselves freed from the belly of our ruined craft via a gunship, only too find that both docked vessels to be inoperable, leaving us stranded. I will not boast a false position of power to you my good General, but instead ask simply for your aid. We require you open your doors to us so we might see our cargo secured."  

"Right, well-" Mason begun.

"And what exchange do you offer us?" A Russian voice burst over the channel.

"And who might you be?" Viktur seemed to get Dragovichs' personality with just that simple sentence.

"I am General Solavona Dragovich, Commander of Eponas' forces."

"Co-commander." Mason murmured, rubbing his temples.

"Well, General, I would ask you to simply look to the generosity of your heart to see me and my brethren safe with our cargo. However, if you must be swayed by trinkets and trades then I would offer you twenty four Terran hours to study our ships internals once we have evacuated from them." Viktur proposed in a less than enthusiastic tone.

"Terran! Mason, he said they were Terran! How is this possible?!" The Doctor squealed in a hushed manner.

"A day? Come now, Captain, we require more than just one day to truly gain anything information on your craft. Information that guarantees the safety of my people the more we have of it." Dragovich huffed.

"I am sure you will learn much of us from a days' worth of study. Besides, I doubt you'll want to be aboard after this craft enters your planets' atmosphere."

"Yeh, I noticed that you're headed straight for us there, anything we can do to give you a tow?" Mason offered.

"No, General. This vessel has lived a long, proud life of exceptional service. I wish that this world be the crafts tomb, see its legacy finished in a more definite manner. I have timed the engines to deliver the last of the cores power to shunt it into the nearest ocean at a reasonable velocity."

"Uh...right. Well, we'll have to take certain precautions when taking you aboard, but sure. We'll extend an umbilical to receive you where we cut through earlier. Everything should be set up in ten minutes." said Mason.

"My thanks, General. Know we have weapons that require us to bring aboard. I shall allow you to disarm and sterilize should you need to, but the weapons themselves must remain with us."

"That...should be ok, but yeh, we will need to give everything a scrub down if any lights start blinking on the scanners." Mason replied, somewhat unsure of himself. He did not want the federations' first contact with extra-terrestrials to be a sour one, yet he wasn't overly fond of having alien soldiers aboard with active weapons, no matter how unloaded they might be.

"Then we are agreed, General. We shall be ready at your breach point in ten minutes, thirty six individuals including myself."

"See you then, Captain."

Thirty six? With a ship that size Mason was expecting hundreds, thousands even. Not that he could complain, such a low number brought much less trouble his way. Mason had taken something of a liking to the first impression Viktur had left him. The man was proper, reasonable and seemingly honest. Though one thing still troubled the general; What was this cargo they found so precious?

"This could mean big things, Mason, big things! Command will have us all over the web for a decade! We will be immortalized in memory!" Dragovich said, his cheery tone far from suiting him.

"Yeh, sure....in memory." Henry mused.

----------------------------------------------------

Mason was in a consistent state of cringing as the invisible, murderous, psychos stood next to him. Even before they had vanished within their cloaking field they had their weapons drawn and ready, it was like they'd just read 'First Contact for Dummies' that very afternoon.

"Tell me, again, why these guys are acting ambushers?" Mason sighed.

"We don't want to be caught off guard if things take bad turn." Dragovich replied plainly.

"They're bringing weapons, so we brought ours." The leader of Skeleton squad replied in his digital voice his bandanna gave him.

"Monkey see, monkey do." Mason murmured, feeling the heat of the 23rds' stare on the side of his face.

"Don't worry, Mason, it'll be fine." Said Natalie.

"I know. Would have been finer without the extra firepower."

"Fine, what would you want us to do, sir?" Another member of Skeleton asked in a condescending manner.

"Well, from what I've heard, you guys sure like your harsh language. I'm sure you could just swear them back out the door." Mason replied, more pressure beaming against his attention.

"Doesn't mean you have to look like you're about to get hit by metal, spook" Snorted Connor, the Olympians stood firmly behind the Generals, Captain Muhalah, Doctor Rsenomena and the 23rd.

The 23rd did not reply, but Mason could tell that they were being wound up further than they already had been. The Olympians were relatively relaxed, approaching the situation in a more delicate manner, a method that was utterly unknown to the 23rd. The pressure gate just before the end of the umbilical was activated, its far door sliding open. The door closed after a short while, leading to the room between the doors leveling out in pressure and becoming flooded with breathable air. The door in front of Mason was fogged out slightly, but he could make out thick, dark crimson figures shuffling about inside, along with glowing, yellow triangles gathered at a certain level. The door gave a violent hiss and slid open, leaving no safety between the General and death itself.

Seeing such things on a holographic screen was worlds or difference from actually looking at them, face to death-mask. They made an advance, heavy boots slamming hard against the metal of the umbilicals' floor and sending small quakes into Masons feet. The shaking grew in intensity as the metal monsters approached him, goliaths of crimson, stone and gun-metal. Their armour was bulky and vast, far heavier in structure and plate than that of the Olympians. Mason would expect such an armour system no be clumsy and cumbersome, yet these soldiers moved as if they wore only their skin and nothing more. Their helmets were crafted to have scowling faces, the triangular visor lenses aglow with a fierce, venomous yellow light. Mason was on the edge of making his trousers a lot browner, the creatures before him appearing as though they would simply reach out and tear him apart like he was made of wet tissue. He could hear the 23rd shuffle in anticipation, bringing up their weapons in preparation should these 'Space Marines' decide they felt like getting real mean real quick. The officers, doctor and Olympians remained relatively still, the doctor the least so as she peered at the marines in a state of amazement.

Mason noticed how the first among the marines wore no helmet, utterly exposing his head. In many ways, he was hideous, ugly scars running across his aged face, dull eyes and a number of visible bionic implants latched onto the side of his skull. His lips were thin, his skin an uneven tan as his scars broke his healthy flesh apart with pale stripes. Yet his face held a mighty quality to it, like something you'd see in a history book about ancient heroes and warlords, his intimidating features exaggerated enough to make him appear very alien to the minor beings that stood before him. His armour was slightly more heavily decorated than some of the more common marines Mason had spotted, though the ten warriors that stood behind him had similar levels of embellishment upon their battle-plate. Two of these warriors carried a large crate between the two of them, a handle in grasped tight in each of their nearest hand. By the time the captain came to a halt not two feet away from Mason, the marines footfalls had become almost unbearably violent in their agitation of the floor beneath them.

"General." Viktur said simply.

"Captain." Mason replied, clumsily trying to put an inflection of humor on his mirror response, an attempt that seemed to fall short of the captains' notice.

"Your weapons." Dragovich spat in immediately after the introduction.

The marine raised an eyebrow in a very exaggerated manner, twisting his expression into a highly unimpressed image. The captain gave the slightest of nods to his men who immediately began pulling clips from weapons and disengaging rockets from holding racks along with what looked like fuel canisters from similar assemblies.

Yep, they have flamethrowers.......fuck.

Mason began to panic slightly, the blood rushing from his face as he saw the massive amounts of firepower just thirty six of these soldiers had.

"Your weapons." Dragovich growled, remaining firm in his stance as the captain shot him a fierce look that would have killed a lesser man.

"Our agreement was for our ammunition, no more, and it is what you shall receive." Whatever intimidating squeal Dragovich had given was swatted aside by the predatory rumble of the marines voice.

"We have re-evaluated the conditions of your boarding admissions-" Dragovich began.

"We haven't re-evaluated anything. Captain, the ammunition will be fine, but we'll just need to run the weapons through a deep-scan on our way in." Mason sighed, his resolve holding steady at 'very-fucking-low'.

"Very good." the captain said as he handed a bear-can sized cylinder that was apparently some form of ammunition to what seemed like thin-air.

The officers and Olympians looked to where he had thrusted his clip to, and it must have been directly towards the face of one of the 23rd assassins. Masons' heart raced in anticipation as to what the next move to be made would be. The captain turned his face towards the space he had singled out.

"Well, boy, take this." Viktur barked as if he was ordering one of his own troops.

"Do it, Skeleton. Someone take it." Mason was on the edge of having a meltdown.

A moment passed, Vikturs expression telling to all how his patience grew smaller by the second. Suddenly a dark figure swept into view just before the marines' hand. The 23rd trooper would have appeared as a frightening sight to any other soldier stood before them, his dark cloth and armour a soulless silhouette of darkness home to a pair of glowing red lenses for eyes. Yet the captain seemed less than amused at the appearance of the comparatively small soldier.

"How did y-" the assassin began in his digitized voice.

"If one of my marines can smell the breath and plate of a boarding team, I can certainly smell your flesh and blood." Viktur growled, his voice sending a chill through the nerves of all before him.

The 23rd member slowly placed his rifle upon his back-mounted magnetic plate and took the strange clip from the marine. A moment after Viktur simply marched forward to the airlock, his men filling his place a second after.

"Uh, Mason to bridge, get....I dunno, eight ammo crates each with four guys to carry them to my position. Get some guys who don't mind a little heavy lifting." Mason called over the radio as he saw how the next marine had a fuel canister the size of a car engine under his arm.

"Roger that, sir." an operator replied.

"Andrea, you and your guys can take some of this, right?" asked Mason.

"Sure thing, sir." Andrea said as she waved forward her squad mates.

Masons' eyes bulged as he saw the contents of a rifle magazine that passed by him as marines advanced to hand over their magazines. The rounds held by their infantry was gigantic, over seventy caliber rounds with piercing tips and wide heads. Certainly designed to make a mighty mess of things. The Olympians carried as much as they could, which was little more than what one marine alone had, which led to everyone waiting on the retrieval teams to arrive. Mason couldn't help but find it a little funny upon seeing the frantic and terrified expressions of the troopers who arrive through the airlock, stumbling back a ways upon being greeted by the gigantic form of Captain Viktur.

"Ok, Andrea, you and your squad take the ammo to the income checkpoint along with these guys. Natalie, you're our hostess, make the giant aliens feel nice and comfy." Mason said shakily.

"What?! Why me?!" the doctor hissed.

"Because you're the one without a gun on them. The last thing I want is these guys on edge."

"Huh, so what if they are. There's thirty of them, thirty five thousand of us just on this ship. What are they gonna do?" one of Skeleton huffed.

"Well, I imagine they might start by tearing off your legs, maybe crush your head in their palms. Hell, maybe they'll just skull-fuck you in your sleep. One way or another, they're the anchor of this situation, we accommodate to them within reason." Mason countered.

"Mason, you truly lack ambition, my friend." Dragovich smirked as he marched past the general.

"They need to know that this is our ship, our rules." another of Skeleton added.

"Sure......why not?" Mason shrugged as he made for the airlock, eyes from hell glaring at him as he walked forward.