"It's an alloy unlike we've seen in common metallic elements. In fact, it shares more similarities with mineral elements, most notably diamond, than any metal. This is most likely why they refer to this composition as 'Adamantium'. Yet, despite how its molecular structure is a mirror image of a diamonds, it has a fiber makeup that gives it the ability to be flexed and retain its integrity even after being misshapen. It's the perfect battle-plate element." Natalie chattered as she swished her fingers through the air to cast away and bring forth different holographics.

"Great. How do we make it?" Commander Mula asked.

"We don't. I can't even begin to pick apart its molecular makeup, and deeper scans come back with zip. It's down to this stuff why we're finding it hard to get a clean scan on these guys armour, tech and their ship. I'll set aside a small team to start picking at this, but we have more pressing questions."

"Like what?" Asked Mason.

"How is it a species that has come from at least two hundred light-years away looks like us, walks like us and talks like us? How come they resemble a military system that dates back thousands of years? Why do their weapons, every scrap of technology seem to be revered under some deep religious significance? Why would whatever society they are a part of need to create soldiers like them? What would they be fighting?" The doctor emphasized.

"They're some kind of nutty, power-hungry cult?" Mula added.

"Nutty; Most definitely. Power-hungry; I'm not convinced. Though certainly some of these soldiers seem to exhibit body language and mannerisms that would indicate a deep predatory and dominant subconscious state, many of what I've identified as the older, more experienced ones seem to have honed their behavior to become less temperamental, far more clear-minded. I would imagine this is part a deliberate method of personal growth, part side-effect of the need to better suit themselves of their more intense battlefield position. A clearer, sharper mind makes for better warriors."

"Sounds like these guys really know their stuff. They sure don't look like the breed you'd want to tango with, and that's coming from me." Said Theo.

"You see why I called you up here?" Asked Mason.

"Yes, sir. Could tell it was an urgent call, it's just hard to tell what's going on when everyone is keeping so 'hush-hush' planet-side. When are we letting the troops on the ground know about all this?"

"Not yet, a couple days maybe, after we know more about these things. It's all a bit much for the troops to take in right now, half of them can barely get their heads around Equestria itself, let alone all of...well...whatever the hell this is." Replied Mason, his words muffled as he chewed his index finger in frustration at everything that had happened.

"Even after such a close encounter you're still convinced they are just some random alien race that just happens to look human?" The doctor huffed as she folded her arms.

"I'll give you it's far too weird to simply be a coincidence."

"There's no such thing as coincidence, General." Natalie replied as if she spoke to a child.

"Yeh, well, there's a lot of things that 'shouldn't exist' running around lately, so you'll excuse me if I decide to rest my brain on the 'Coincidence Cushion'." Mason groaned.

The door to the officers meeting room slid open as Dragovich stormed in, his expression and body language screaming aloud how something had upset him...bad.

"That alien govnyuk lied to me! There's nothing on that ship, not a damn thing that makes any fucking sense!" The general roared.

"Your team's been in there for an hour, you must have scooped up something interesting by now." Natalie whined.

"IT'S JUST A GIANT, FUCKING, CHURCH!" Roared Dragovich.

"Settle down! Aside from deep tech and weapons what else have you dug up?" Asked Mason.

"Fuckers speak English, as you all know, and an obscure form of Latin. The love writing about all kinds of shit, like 'Honor' and 'Sacrifice'. It's retarded stuff really."

"What else?" Mason was growing tired of Dragovichs' attitude.

"They love referring to some 'Emperor' they have, leads to believe these guys really have gone all-out in terms of building a backwards-ass culture."

"Ok, Doctor, looks like you're up," Mason sighed as he turned to Natalie, "I need you to put on a big smiley face and-"

Mason was interrupted as another figure marched through the door, this time a junior science team member dressed in pale lab-clothing and carrying a data pad.

"Oh, sorry. Doctor, the results are back." The young man said before turning to scamper back out the room.

"A match," Natalie said as her expression filled with awe, "A ninety eight percent DNA match on all biological fields. Most certainly a deep ancestry links our two species, without a doubt! But there's something so different about them, like stuff has been mapped over their original genetic code, it's almost like biological software patches."

"Great! Ok! Natalie, just...just go talk to humanitys' 'big brother' and find out what you can about them without stirring up any shit." Mason shot up, more than ready to leave it to the eccentrics to do their digging while he caught some rest.

"Sure, no problem." Natalie replied in a snide tone.

"No more than an hour. I also need to interview the marines." Added Dragovich.

"Sure, fine." Mason knew that by 'interview' the general actually meant 'interrogation', but he was far too tired, spread far to thin to summon the energy to care. He'd let his fellow general make his mistakes, let him learn from them so he wouldn't have to keep covering for Dragovichs' shortcomings.

He was going to bed.

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

The mess hall was ghostly quiet beside the deep thunder of the occasional moving space marine. The normal occupants had been declined entry to make room for the large soldiers. The sound was not one Natalie had been familiar with when in such a place, normally she'd expect the drone of chatter between hundreds of individuals, the clatter of cutlery and chorus of footsteps. Well, there were footsteps alright, and each one sounded like someone had just dropped a tank on the floor. Natalie tried her best to block out the consistently surprising sound and turned her attention to her data pad, gathering her thoughts to begin her questioning.

"So, Captain, lets start with the small stuff. How did you get here?" Asked the doctor.

"My ship engaged an emergency warp jump to escape a...difficult situation. After assessment, I deemed I had to preserve our cargo rather than face a glorious demise." The giant man remained standing, most probably due to how his immense weights would collapse the metal bench Natalie was perched upon.

"Ah, yes, you see now that brings up two further questions. The first is, what exactly happened before you made the jump? We found...things aboard your ship, all dead. And second, what is the significance of this 'relic'? It's...well...just a piece of parchment, an old rag of torn cloth with some calligraphy written on it." The doctor inquired.

"The creatures aboard my ship are of no concern of yours, I assure you. They will not be pursuing us at this distance. Just simply know them as something your people may want to worry about once you have become more acquainted with us. The relic is of deep sentimental significance. Such significance that renders my life and the lives of my brethren utterly disposable when concerning its safety. Your scientists have had their fill of observing it, but from this point onward it will remain with us."

"Ok, well, firstly; good to hear that those things won't be following us. Although if you could submit a minor report on the subject to our archives it would be appreciated."

"Understood, I shall consider it." The captain waved off.

"And second, I'm...heh, I'm sorry but it simply doesn't make sense that you would make such an outstanding effort to keep a piece of cloth safe, especially over living, breathing people. I mean, seriously, it's just...a...um...well..." Natalie shrunk away as the captains expression grew tense and fierce, it was like someone was holding a shotgun to her face.

"The relic is sacred, apparently so much as to surpass your comprehension. It remains with us, it is to be unblemished. You shall cease you irritating inquiries, it tires me." Natalie took firm note that the captain held the reigns here, she was just along for the ride.

"Gotcha, great. Uhm, so on the whole 'sacred' subject, your ship is rustling some jimmies with the salvage and surveillance teams. It's, well, kind of a church, right? Quite the impressive decorative display."

"Our ships require an anchor when in warp transit, a point from which to direct our travel through warp-space. The gargoyles, glyphs and shrines offer such an anchor and ward off unwanted energy signatures."

"I'm sorry, but the whole decor thing is, what, functional?" Natalie blurted.

"Quite." Replied the Astarte.

The doctor simply sat looking at the soldier, hoping he'd burst into laughter at his jest. Yet no laughter came, only the stony visage of the aged warrior presenting itself. The theory he had presented to her was ridiculous, just plain stupid. The possibility that somehow these soldiers had gone insane through one method or another became an ever more significant theory.

"So, anyway, where do we go from here? What would your next step be?"

"We need to use your communications array to contact the Imperium. Once I deliver our coordinates a retrieval craft will collect us. However, I must express how my brothers and I would appreciate being delivered planet-side so that we may grant the relic a less 'alien' environment than what your craft presents. Before we left a low-yield scan of the planet below revealed a number of more than optimal environments we would be happy to occupy." The captain presented, his tone lifted by his appeal to the world that spun below them.

"Ah, right. Well that really is something you should take up with the commanding generals. Although...not to damp your hopes, but don't hold your breath. Mason could be persuaded to let you 'phone home'," Natalie mentally broke ribs laughing at her jokes, " But just watch what you say around Dragovich. He's all for following through with protocol to draw out stuff in his favour. If you tell him what you plan to do, you could be stuck here a while."

"We'll see, Doctor."

Natalie flinched internally. She hoped the captain wouldn't butt-heads with the general, it could cause a lot of problems, for her and everyone else on this ship.

"Just, wait until you see Mason." The doctor said before she turned to see Dragovich walking into the mess hall, accompanied by...no one.

"Time's up, Doctor. Captain, if you'd like to follow me." Dragovich announced before abruptly turning to head back out the hall.

"I would not." Viktur said simply as Natalie got up from the bench.

"I invite you onto my ship and you still don't trust me?" The general asked with a raised brow.

"General Mason invited me onto this ship, a ship under the command of the officer of darker flesh I saw when coming aboard. So indeed, I do not trust you." Viktur replied in a deep drone.

"I'm sure I can put your suspicions to rest. Let us talk, commander to commander. I'm sure we can come to a firm arrangement." Dragovich said is something of an over-sincere tone.

"Very well. Ivanhar, to me!" Viktur called his sergeant over as he took a couple of steps to meet him.

Natalie had begun to make her way to the halls exit, however she was still within earshot of the space marines, more than twice as close to them as Dragovich was.

"Prepare for the situation to escalate." Viktur said in a hushed tone, Ivanhar nodding in confirmation.

In just a few steps the marine passed Natalie and headed towards the general. She couldn't help but get a bad, twisting feeling in her gut. A feeling like something bad was going to happen.

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

The room was well lit, giving Viktur something of an uneasy haze to his perception. He much preferred the dim-set lighting of his own ship, the incense choked corridors and the solid ceramite. Instead he was surrounded by bright grey walls with built in light panels. Everything was clean and simple of shape, so uninspired, so bland and absent of history. Imperial ships were built of proud visage, all built not only as valiant star-born carriage or engine of devastation, but as a living story. Each vessel, every fortress, each set of armour and every weapon was its own personality with its own adventure, its own tale to tell. The instruments of the Imperium, from the commonplace troopers sidearm to the colossal Titan war-machines, sang a song of its unnatural life. Nothing in this room sang, it was as if he was standing alone in the middle of a desert.

Well, not entirely alone, to his displeasure.

The smug creature that called itself a man sat before him. His head was shaven, his eyes dark and brow heavy. His jaw was strong and his expression was that of a mind with a plan. Viktur could see the general was going to play games with him, but the captain didn't play games. Games were for children.

Viktur felt uncomfortable around this being, this shadow of a human. Humanity had long ago given up its need for trivial pursuits in exchange for ultimate purpose, freedom through service to the Emperor. Every human had been altered to be a living weapon while bio-mechanical workers offered their hands to push the war effort onward. So what were these people? Had the Imperium missed a colony when the Gathering had been initiated? Had that colony survived and thrived on its own? Such an event was a dire blow the surety the Imperium had always been so proud of, something that defined them as masters of their own fate.

However such queries and worries had to wait, and did not belong within the mind of an Astarte captain. No doubt the Inquisition would busy themselves for a lifetime with the research into this anomaly, and Viktur knew it was best he did not worry himself over matters that were not his to fuss over.

"So, Captain, let's talk about your situation. Quite the series of dire events from what I hear." Dragovich said casually.

"And what do you hear, General?" Viktur asked.

"Many things, Captain. I hear your people are in a conflict of some kind, no doubt with those animals aboard your ship?"

"I despise the Denti as much as any Astarte. I have grown a deep and rich hatred for them for many days recently. But even I owe them the recognition they deserve. And they are not to be recognized as merely animals, General." Viktur growled.

"Oh? They certainly look like animals to me. Anyway, the federation has taken note of his 'pest-control' struggle and would like to help. As a sign of cooperation between our societies. Surely we can learn many things from one another." Dragovich said, leaning back a slight.

"Do you speak on behalf of your federations leaders?"

"Well, you could say I'm using my initiative here." The general chortled.

"Then I can assure you that they would think it most unwise for you to make such an offer." The captain stated with narrow eyes.

"Oh please, I'm sure the federation would most certainly be more than happy to lend a hand, especially against an enemy force that doesn't even wield firearms. Surely you could do with the extra ordnance?"

"You mean the ordnance that took two hits just to knock on one of our doors? I feel such weaponry would be less than sufficient to deal with our adversaries."

"Look who's talking. Your kind still uses shell-based projectiles and even flamethrowers. It evident you require superior firepower on your side. Think of how much shorter your campaigns will be cut by." The general said, now leaning in and onto the steel table Viktur stood before.

"Indeed, the campaign would be extremely short." Viktur admitted, cocking his head.

"You see, now you're thinking logi-"

"For you."

Viktur cut the general off, stopping him mid-word and locking into his gaze.

"I see what you wish to do, General. You wish to initiate a bargain between us where you 'aid' us in our 'struggle' in exchange for what I can imagine is answers to the many questions that have arisen at our arrival here."

"I made no such claims." Dragovich countered.

"It pains you, to not have the answers. You have lived your lives under the udder of the universe, and with every tug comes more answers to every question before you. You have grown comfortable, and fragile within what you have considered an infallible system. And now that udder you have so vigorously relied upon has run dry, and the only thing you can do now is move to me. Well know that this is not the time nor place for such menial concerns." Viktur said in a harsh tone.

"Menial? Menial?! It is no surprise you are so technologically backwards when you consider science and logic 'menial'!" Dragovich growled.

"Your 'science'...your 'logic'? In time you will come to learn how little it all means. How fewer answers can be gained by following the rules this reality strikes down before us. You will not face the Denti. You will not face the Orcoids, you will not face Dracta nor the Shryll. And you will not face us." Viktur leaned forwards, his face twisting into a fierce image.

"What you will do, however, is you will speak with General Mason."

"Sure. I'll go fetch him. You just wait right here." Dragovich complied with Viktur far too easily, and to the captain this was cue that something was wrong.

Viktur knew something had been initiated, a trigger had been set off, but he needed to find out what. The Astarte set his attention within himself for no longer than a single heartbeat, taking in everything he could experience. His long, nutritious breath he was taking in and the rush of the scrubbed air that rushed into his lungs. His heart as it began to shift its effort into sucking blood back into its receiving chambers. His veins as they threw his blood through his body. His muscles in his hand burning as he begun to clench his fists. His attention imploded and threw itself outwards into the room he was in, reaching out to touch every detail.

Twelve feet wide

Sixteen feet long

Nine feet tall

Still air

Fine-filter vents on ceiling, four spaced three feet from one another about the center

Table, steel, stainless, fine polyester mesh skin

Chair, plastic smell, same as table

Floor integrity, unarmored, titanium beams supporting steel tiles and wire-work

Four extra heartbeats

Four extra breathes

Relaxed

Two behind, two in front, each designated to a corner of the room

Footsteps, four sets, synchronized

Nicely rehearsed, but the Captain wanted a live performance. He kept his demeanor placid, still and loose as to not give away anything out of the ordinary. He needed his own element of surprise, one that could by him the edge over four individuals with artificial camo. He needed only words.

"Before we begin, does anyone want to get out?" Viktur said in a calm, level tone.

The steps stopped, the light taps that would have normally gone unnoticed by the common ear ceasing for a moment.

"We're not here to hurt you. But if you threaten us we will use force to subdue you." A strange, digitized voice came from thin air.

"I am leaving this damned ship, one way or another." Viktur growled through clenched teeth.

"Not until you give us answers. Until then any unauthorized action will be considered a threat against the federation." The voice growled back.

"It's good to know you scare easily."

Viktur had no more than a moment. The invisible soldier had revealed himself well enough just by talking, and the Astarte could begin. No blood, not today, not yet. With the effort a mortal would present to lift a game remote the marine latched his grip upon the side of the table beneath him and launched the metal platform over his left shoulder. Metal struck some form of energy cushion as a purple light flared from behind the table. Viktur threw himself forward into a half-crouch and pulled at one of the tables twisted legs, flinging it into the opposite corner of the room with a similar effect as the first collision. The soldier was now fully revealed and was dazed by the sudden impact that would have powderized any un-shielded man. Viktur extended his arm and threw his fingers out in an almost gesture like manner that threw the soldier into the corner he had come from, this time un-shielded. The soldiers skull bounced off each wall the corner was made from before falling to the floor in an unconscious mess. All this had taken just over half a second of time, enough to alert his companions.

Viktur spun about to travel to the nearest corner, the one to the right, to deliver a blow at chest-level with the soldier he hoped was there. Indeed the blow struck true, but instead landed on the soldiers shoulder, spinning him about, twisting his legs to see him fall messily on the floor. Such a mishap was inexcusable, and would pay with dear consequence. Running out of time the captain launched himself into the opposite corner just as the soldier with the table in front of him pushed away the bent metal panel. He extended his palm out and caught the next soldier dead center of the chest, throwing him back against the wall with boots in the air. The soldier next to Viktur had cleared himself of his obstruction and had nearly fully raised his rifle, his camo having failed him after being struck by the makeshift missile. Viktur threw his hand to his chainsword that remained fastened to his belt. In an almost instantaneous manner he primed the weapon a millisecond before pulling upon the ignition trigger. Adamantium teeth spun angrily upon the swords edge, the roar of the weapon shifting in tone around Viktur as he swung the sword wide. The mono-molecular mini-blades carved clean through the far softer metal of the firearm, chewing apart the weapons body.

A spark spat out just as the blade left its target, one that sent up warning lights all over Vikturs brain. Before the Astarte could think another word the weapon detonated with the force of a grenade, blasting the soldier against the wall with terrifying force and showering Viktur with metal shrapnel, forcing his eyes shut a moment and turning his head a single digit degree. The flash of the detonation cleared and the soldier that had held the weapon was on the floor, no doubt with a fractured hand. These soldiers must have been using magnetically charged weapons, a very flashy, but also very volatile method of launching ammunition. This could well be valuable tactical information.

With another couple of steps Viktur brought himself over the floored soldier and grabbed his battle-dress, throwing his weapon away from him. He looked about himself and found what he had hoped so deeply for. Three of the rooms walls were a flat, matte grey, aside from one. One was the exact same to the untrained eye, but to the enhanced eye of an Astarte, revealed itself to be something else. Its hexagonal patterning, a near invisible pattern upon the grey of the surface, was the tell-tale sign that it was in all likelihood an observation window. Yet, there was only one way to be sure. Viktur waited a few seconds for the soldier he grasped to have his shields recharge before dragging him over to the 'wall'. All the while the soldier stabbed wildly at the captains wrist with a tactical knife, yet the comparatively small blade failed to pierce the plasteel segments of the writ joint of his power armour. Viktur dropped the soldier for a quarter of a second before scooping his hooded and masked head up in his palm and slamming it against the wall of interest. Upon impact, silvery, shining cracks appeared around the dark head of the soldier. The soldier was deeply dazed, his mind knocking off the walls of his skull but remained alive and conscious, but was once again un-shielded. Viktur brought the teeth of his chainsword about to come to the soldiers chest.

"Door!" He roared.

"Your plan is flaw-ACK!" The dark soldier winced as the teeth dug in through his armored chest and into the flesh beneath.

"Door, now, or he dies!"

"Viktur, calm down, I was just getting Mason and we can just talk, okay?" Dragovich called from the speaker built into the room.

Viktur was tired of playing verbal chest, perhaps some blood was needed after all. The chainsword revved as the blade spun up, carving away the soldiers armour and cutting just before the bone at his chest, the soldier yelling out in pain as his blood began to run down his chest.

"Okay! Okay! I'll open the door and we can talk, right!? We can just talk!" Dragovichs voice was strained with stress as the door flew up into the ceiling, revealing an entrance that would have gone unseen had the door been left closed. Viktur wasted no time and marched out the room and into a clean looking corridor.

"Brothers, to my position. The situation has escalated." Viktur ordered through his mic.

Dragovich ran around the corner in front of Viktur along with a dozen armed soldiers who all had weapons raised and aimed at the Astarte.

"Come on now, Captain, your soldiers have remained unharmed. This is a very drastic act on your part." Dragovich said cautiously, his hands raised.

"I am out of options, General, the relic must be seen safe and in a stable environment. You and your men have made it clear how this is not to be made possible without expressing answers that you will fail to understand anyway, so I opted for an alternate method of resolution."

"What, by harming my men!?"

"I am a space marine, it is my profession to harm. More often it is to kill. Which would you prefer I do?"

"What do you want!? You want to be dropped off on the planet!? You know I can't do that!"

"Perhaps not, but I can." Viktur growled just as his brethren rounded the corner behind him, weapons loaded.

"Captain!" A marine called out.

"Detraction!" Viktur replied.

Bolt shots burst within the walls all around the soldiers before Viktur, chunks of metals and wire showering the gas masked soldiers who flinched and backed away as their senses were drowned in mayhem. Viktur mentally thanked the fates that his squad had managed to find where the ammo had been stored, and also his brothers for having skill enough to retrieve their rightful equipment. Viktur threw his hostage forward onto the floor and promptly backed away to meet his brother marines. As he reached them a veteran fired up his heavy flamer and filled the corridor just before them with angry flames. The metal of the corridor bent and twisted under the intense heat as the soldiers and Dragovich winced at the furious heat before them. With a precious couple second bought, the marines made their retreat.

"Carvul, auspex?" Viktur barked.

"Bridge located, two kilometers ahead, four hundred meter below us. I've mapped a route through the maintenance corridors that will provide us with an enclosed environment, leaving battle restricted to single-file combat on our part and theirs." The marine replied.

"Well met, but no lives are to be taken today. Discourage adversaries with flamers and distractional fire or incapacitate them in hand-to-hand combat. They are easily overcome." Viktur replied.

"We are to let them live?" Another marine inquired.

"They are not harbingers of evil, just clumsy and narrow sighted. Leave them to their dull little lives."

"Understood, sire."

"Brothers, to the bridge!" Barked Viktur as he, followed by his marines, broke into a sprint.