A bleak wind howled as Celestia’s sun began its slow descent to the horizon.

Dozens of gleaming eyes watched the sunset with varying degrees of loathing, sheltering in the shadows of tree branches and dusty crags. Leathery wings rustled, hooves scraped against stone, and ears twitched back and forth in agitation. A thick tension seemed to hang in the air, slowly draining away as the sun sunk behind the mountaintops.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

A high-pitched screech pierced the air from above, and numerous heads turned to watch. Several others did not, content to let the noise itself illuminate the new arrivals. The sound bounced off the surrounding trees, branches, and rocks, and their minds sketched a near-perfect diagram of the approaching figures.

The shriek was soon followed by the beat of heavy, leathery wings against the air. A triangle formation of six bat ponies swooped down under the treetops, and then adjusted their approach to land. The ponies in the back dropped to the ground first, their ears swiveling back and forth like radar dishes searching for threats. Then the two ponies ahead of them dropped down, spears drawn and at the ready. Finally the pony at the front landed daintily on her hooves, staring at the witnesses with a calm smile.

“Right on time,” grunted a pony curled up under a stone crag.

“The Bloodborne are never late,” the mare at the front cooed, her voice thick and husky. She kept her wings unfolded as she approached the other equines, and her retinue rushed to follow in escort.

The thestrals that had just arrived were all mares, and all conspicuously armed and armored. They didn’t brandish their weapons as they approached, but neither did they sheathe or secure them. Their armor was made of hide leather and rough fur that covered their shins, knees, and chests. Their backsides were mostly exposed, showing off an array of colorful cutie marks: crimson slashes and rune markers made up most of them, although there was one escort with a fish on a line. Perhaps she was in the wrong line of work.

The sun finally sank completely behind the mountain, and many of the ponies looked up as the moon rose to prominence in the vast web of stars that stretched across the skies. A few of them started whispering among themselves, their earlier frustration giving way to excitement. One pony started weeping.

“I can’t believe it’s almost over,” that particular equine said, rubbing his eyes with the edge of his wing. “At last, she’ll… the… the Mistress will be…”

“Do stop your blubbering,” commanded the recently arrived mare, sticking her nose up and narrowing her eyes. “You should not believe it’s almost over, because it isn’t. IF things proceed according to plan, we are not at the cusp of the end, but a new beginning.”

One of the stallions staring at the moon reached a wing into a pouch on his leg. He withdrew an object from the pouch: a small glass sphere that seemed to contain a constantly swirling, dark purple gas.

“Do you have it, Norn?” he asked, holding up the sphere.

“Of course,” the mare said, stamping her hoof on the ground. One of the mares behind her quickly unslung her bag, withdrawing a similar object with a bright red gas inside. “One fresh Nightmare, ready for sacrifice. A fragment of darkness stolen from the nexus between this world and the next.” She looked over the stallion toward the others. “I presume you have yours as well? I hardly think you’d have the gall to show up otherwise.”

One by one, four other bat ponies reached into their satchels and withdrew glass orbs, each one filled with a strange, swirling gas. The stallion that had been weeping cringed as he held his up, and he stared at the dirt, unable to look at it.

“Our spirit oracle, she… she did not survive the trapping process,” he said, tears dribbling down his cheeks again.

“Ours went insane. She howls and thrashes constantly, and her eyes constantly glow with magic,” announced a mare with pale, glassy eyes that had no pupils. “If she has not calmed by the time we return, she will have to be put down.”

“Something else happened with our dreamwalker. She only seems half-conscious now. She may be braindead, but she keeps giggling and whispering to herself about nonsense,” grunted another mare with a pitch-black coat.

“Oh. How… unfortunate,” Norn said, her expression looking perfectly disinterested. “Ours was fine. She has a big new scar now, but she rather likes that sort of thing.”

A soft glow appeared in the distance, barely visible through the trees.

“They’re ready. It is time,” Norn announced. She turned toward the light, and her escort rushed to guard her as she set off at a trot.

The other thestrals moved to do the same with varying degrees of eagerness. A few of them had weapons, mostly on the order of dragon-tooth blades or sickles that could be easily wielded in the mouth, but only the Bloodborne seemed to possess a warrior escort. They did wear clothes, however, and it was easy to identify the separate pony groups by their dress.

The Sentinels favored headdresses and caps that hung over their foreheads and hid their nearly useless eyes. The Shad had long scarves wrapped around their necks that whipped about whenever the wind picked up. The Eisenwing wore little other than jewelry, their coats black as the void. The Dark Heart tribe favored overcoats, some of which looked like they came from “civilized” lands that had modern textile crafters. The Haunt were the stark opposite, wearing hides and bone ornaments to look like cruel savages.

None of them had cutie marks, unlike Norn and her retinue. Many of the bat ponies snuck frequent glances at the mares’ hips, furtively studying the marks. Some of the stallions stared for different reasons; the Bloodborne warriors were very healthy and their coats and manes were rich and well-groomed, which was not always the case amongst the ponies of the other tribes.

The stallion that had first addressed Norn trotted at an even pace with her, his eyes fixed firmly on the light. Norn’s attention, however, soon wandered to the other bat pony. She smiled, showing off her thick, curved fangs.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it Cutlass? Why, I don’t think we saw each other since four winters ago.”

Cutlass nodded, not turning toward the mare. “Yes. That was the last occasion on which we needed to cooperate. Our hunting grounds have remained secure and the pegasi no longer harass our hunters, thanks to your aid.”

“Ah! Nostalgia!” Norn chirped, grinning happily. “Blades flashing in the moonlight! Feathers flying among the bloodspray! The cries for help and the pleas for mercy! Good times!”

“I don’t consider the period in which the Shad were being slowly exterminated ‘good times,’ Lady Norn. Although I am of course deeply grateful for your assistance, I’m thankful that there hasn’t been need for further cooperation among the tribes until this occasion.”

She looked slightly disappointed to hear that, but then her expression brightened again. “How did your mystic handle capturing the Nightmare? That, uh… what do you call them in Shad… er…”

“Nightweavers,” Cutlass answered. “Kris is… alive. She’ll survive. It’s too early to tell much else, but her injuries weren’t… mortal, at least.”

“Oh. I’m glad to hear that.” Norn looked away, coughing lightly. “Were you two close?”

“No,” the stallion responded with a dreary sigh.

“Mmm, I see. You remember my offer to you back from our days of martial cooperation, don’t you?” Norn asked, smirking. “It still stands, Cutlass.”

The stallion’s wings rustled irritably. “I do remember. My feelings have not changed. The offer to be chained up in your pits as a pleasure slave for the rest of my life, generous as it is, is declined. Thank you, though. It’s very flattering.”

“Pleasure slave! Bah!” Norn sniffed. “You all act like the concept of studding is so barbaric.”

“The way you do it IS barbaric,” interjected a mare from Eisenwing. “You raise your stallions to be dumb slaves, make them compete with each other, and then exile the losers. The winners get the privilege of spending their entire lives trapped in a pit, constantly rutting until they’re too old for you to enjoy. Then they’re granted the same fate as the rejects.”

“It’s not always exile,” retorted one of the Bloodborne warriors. “Sometimes it’s… worse.” She shrugged. “But the studs don’t complain.”

“Of course they don’t complain. They’re SLAVES,” grunted a Dark Heart stallion.

“Just ONCE I would like to meet in a tribal conclave without it turning into a denunciation of our breeding practices,” Norn complained, her mood ruined.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Cutlass grumbled through clenched teeth.

“Silence. We’re here,” announced another stallion with a grim snort.

A path of heavy, intertwined roots formed a ramp upward to a wooden hut surrounded by magic torches that held strange blue flames. The roof was composed of still-living branches from the surrounding trees that had grown together and intertwined in a way that probably had something to do with druid magic. At the top of the ramp awaited an old unicorn mare. She had an overgrown mane of white hair and wore a dress and veil of silks that were ripped and dirtied from wear. Her cutie mark was a field of four-point stars against her light blue coat, with a single large star rising above the others. Silver earrings and an amulet completed the image of faded, tarnished opulence, each of them in the shape of a crescent moon.

“Greetings, friends and comrades in darkness,” the horned pony said, her voice like cloying honey. “I am pleased to see my summons reached you all. Our time is nigh.”

“It’s really happening, then? The ritual is ready? I can scarcely believe it!”

The unicorn tilted her head to one side. “It has been most difficult for you, my brothers and sisters. We exist at the periphery of this world: hunted, shunned, defeated. But that trial-“

“All right, all right, let’s cut the monologue and get a move on, Starsong,” Norn interrupted, looking annoyed.

Starsong Ebony pouted, tilting her head the other way. “You really have no sense of drama, Lady Norn. But fine. You have the materials?”

Six of the bat ponies stepped forward, each one clutching a glass sphere in their wing tip.

“A fragment of pure Nightmare. Six shards of darkness, screaming to be free and hungering for the minds of the innocent,” Starsong said, her voice taking on an almost lusty tone.

“Yes, that’s our contribution,” Norn said, lowering her orb. “And yours? Did that silly idea with the tree actually work?”

“Follow me,” Starsong said, turning around with a malicious smile crossing her face.

Inside the hut, the thestrals arranged themselves into a ring along the wall, with each tribe grouped together. In the middle of the building, standing within a beam of moonlight that fed through a hole in the roof and forest canopy, was a sapling. It was a small, withered thing, barely more than five feet tall. It sat in a large pot of strange, dusty soil, and it had barely any leaves on its twisted branches. Strips of dark rot ran through its bark like ugly scars, and a single knot in the trunk yawned open like a hungering mouth. There were flowers, but their petals were gray and sickly, looking like they were on the verge of falling off.

“This is it? Really?” Norn asked, looking exasperated.

“Well it’s not THAT bad for just twenty years’ growth… right?” a stallion protested.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” a jet-black stallion sniffed. “Will it do what we need?”

Starsong Ebony walked up in front of the sapling and then cleared her throat meaningfully. “Welcome, lords and ladies of the night! It has been twenty long years since that day. Our humiliation. Our loss. Our-“

“Can you PLEASE just get on with it?” Norn groaned, hanging her head. “We all know what happened and why we’re here! How long this is going to take?”

“I spent all yesterday rehearsing this monologue and I’m not letting it go to waste because you brats are BORED,” Starsong hissed, her eyes flashing briefly. “Now shush! Where was I…”

Norn bristled at being scolded, but she and the other Bloodborne didn’t interrupt again as the unicorn jumped back into her speech.

“Twenty years! Twenty years since that self-righteous cow banished our lady and stole the moon for herself!” Starsong growled, turning her gaze up at the sky through the hole in the roof. “For a thousand years she thought to imprison Nightmare Moon! For a thousand years she thought to bury our revolution! For a thousand years she hoped to keep the darkness at bay!”

Starsong Ebony lowered her head, magic sparks dancing around her horn and a sickly light coming from her pupils. “But twenty years is quite enough, is it not?”

“Aye.”

“Yes!”

“Too long!”

Starsong stepped to one side, finally gesturing to the tree in the room. “Behold, the mechanism of our ascension: the Tree of Turmoil!”

“Eesh,” Norn rolled her eyes at the name, but otherwise didn’t interrupt.

“Twenty years ago a root was cut from the Tree of Harmony and smuggled away to us. A dozen ponies perished between the denizens of the Everfree Forest and the guardians of Equestria proper, but this root was successfully planted here in the poisoned soil of the Fallen Glade! For two decades we Moon Mages have cultivated it, feeding it with dark magic and experimenting on it, and at last we are ready to harvest its power!”

Then she paused. “But more is needed, lord and ladies of the night! A final fuel to spark the magic hidden deep within its roots! Nightmares given form! Monstrous souls captured from the black rifts!” She grinned, her expression looking distinctly unhinged. “With these, we will create the Elements of Destruction! A glorious weapon of sheer bedlam that will tear open space and time, reaching all the way to the moon itself! NIGHTMARE MOON WILL BE FREE!!” she howled, pausing to catch her breath. “And then… And then at last… our revolution will be resurrected in glorious shadow. And the night WILL last forever!”

A series of cheers and shrieks erupted from the gathered thestrals, and many of them started stamping their hooves on the floor or flapping their wings excitedly. Only the Bloodborne seemed reserved in their celebrations, releasing cursory squeals and calm taps against the floor as if they were performing a formality to be polite.

“Now, plunge your captured Nightmares within the tree!” Starsong called, her horn flaring brilliantly. “Sturm, of the Eisenwing!”

A large black bat pony walked up to the tree and placed his sphere into the knot. The sphere quivered, and then, after a moment, it shattered. Sturm recoiled slightly, but then watched in fascination as the essence within the orb drained away into the gap in the trunk. The glass shards slowly disintegrated, the magic within vaporizing the remnants.

“Drakk, of the Dark Hearts!” Starsong called.

Another stallion wearing a fine fur overcoat came up to the tree. He stared at the orb for a moment, wiping away a tear from his eye with the tip of his wing. Then he silently placed it into the tree.

“Rattle, of the Haunt!”

A mare wearing a wolf’s skull on her head and torso armor of a beast’s ribs approached and inserted her orb without commentary or ceremony.

“Bleak Attica, of the Sightless Guardians!”

Another mare wearing an elaborate headdress decorated with garish and hideously mismatched colored feathers walked up to the tree.

“We’re actually called the ‘Sentinels’ now. Marketing thinks it’s more trendy and accessible this way,” Bleak Attica explained, pausing before the tree. “They didn’t like how the old clan name defined us by our disability.”

“Oh, for the love of-“ Starsong took a calming breath, and then shrugged her shoulders. “All right, fine. That’s fine. Do you want me to introduce you again?”

“No! No, that’s not necessary, thank you! Just wanted you to know!” Bleak said, shoving her orb in the knot and then trotting away.

Starsong Ebony cleared her throat again. “Now, then. Cutlass, of the Shad!”

Cutlass stalked forward, the sphere clutched in the tip of his wing. There were seams of bright red spreading through the tree now, originating from the knot. They spread haphazardly in small surges, crimson light pulsing from the sundered bark. It wasn’t clear to him what was happening, but it seemed obviously traumatic for the tree; the wood creaked and the bark fell apart as the strange affliction spread.

He placed the sphere within the knot, watching carefully as the casing collapsed. The gas within – the strange dark spirit they knew as a Nightmare – seemed to surge toward him briefly in the air after the orb shattered, as if it knew what was happening and was reaching out for help. But in an eye blink it was sucked up into the hollow beneath the knot, and the red cracks grew further.

“And last, but certainly not least, Queen Norn, of the Bloodborne!”

“Finally,” the mare grumbled, walking up past Cutlass and depositing her own sphere in the knot. Her eyes lingered a moment on the bright red seams when they started to glow even brighter, and then she quickly stepped back. “Mage, may I presume it’s supposed to be doing that?”

“Yes! YES! Witness the power of darkness! Nightmares manifest! Chaos ascendant!”

Starsong’s horn practically exploded with light, and a wheel of magic glyphs appeared on the ground and started to spin. The Tree of Turmoil quivered, more of its bark cracking and falling off. The red veins reached the dying blossoms, and those pitiful flowers suddenly awoke with new life, growing lush and full before the conclave’s very eyes.

“Behold!” Starsong shouted, directing her magic to one such flower. “The Element of Pain!”

The blossom quivered and then started to swell, its petals falling off. Within seconds a mustard-yellow pod had grown to the size of a baseball, and the branch it was attached to trembled to hold it up.

“The Element of Malice!” Starsong shouted, nurturing another blossom and growing another pod. This one was a dark brown, with blue stripes.

“The Element of Terror! The Element of Deceit! The Element of Shadow!”

One by one the blossoms turned into rich, lush-looking fruits. With every Element the tree withered further, its trunk splitting open and bleeding dark, oily sap. Its branches curled and dried, creaking noisily. A wisp of foul smoke spewed from the knot, like a diseased cough.

“The tree! It’s dying!” Cutlass warned.

“Yesssss,” Starsong said, her voice almost gleeful as she moved to the last flower. “It is young, and our ministrations have not been gentle. It will not survive this service. Unfortunate, but necessary.” Her horn’s magic pulsed. “Now, finally… the Element of Carnage!”

The final flower ballooned into a dark red seed pod, and then the branch it was on snapped. The fruit fell, but it was caught in a swirl of pale silvery light and carried into the air. The crimson veins running through the tree drained of color, and then the Tree of Turmoil shriveled to a crooked gray skeleton of dried wood.

Norn gave a slight nod to her retinue.

“At last! AT LAST!! The labor is complete! Our efforts have come to fruition!” Starsong Ebony shouted, almost weeping with pride and relief.

“Speaking of, uh, fruit,” mumbled Drakk, “are the Elements of Destruction supposed to be… what are those, melons? I was expecting jewelry, like the Elements of Harmony.”

Starsong giggled, plucking the other Elements of Destruction from the branches with her magic. “Harmony is a thing of form and order. It is easy to hammer into gems and metals. Darkness is more… organic. It is small resentments and jealousies buried deep within to fester. Hatreds born of an insult centuries past, fed with blood from generation to generation. Small embers that explode into horrific violence. Darkness is not forged; it is seeded.”

The unicorn turned her head toward an exit in the rear of the hut. “The Elements of Destruction will make a fine feast for the Mistress of the Night, and finally grant her power beyond that which her accursed sister wields! Victory will be ours! But first, they have another role.” The Elements of Destruction slowly started to orbit Starsong’s head. “The other Moon Mages have constructed a portal that we will use to reach the moon and grant our fell lady her freedom. They are waiting for us now, needing only the power source that we-“ a wing claw tapped her on the back, and Starsong’s eyebrow twitched. “Lady Norn I know these explanations bore you but I’m almost done!” she snapped, turning to face the Queen of the Bloodborne.

Norn’s hoof struck like lightning, punching a spring-loaded blade into the unicorn’s chest. Starsong’s eyes widened. Shrieks of surprise and horror erupted from the other tribes of bat ponies.

“You… but…” Starsong Ebony gasped, blood welling up in her throat.

The magic holding up the Elements of Destruction faltered, and the magical fruits dropped out of the air. Norn caught the Element of Carnage with her wing, but the others she let fall to the ground with meaty thumps.

“NORN!! YOU TREACHEROUS JACKAL!!” Cutlass snarled, drawing a blade fastened to his rear leg.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” the mare said coyly, raising her free wing before her mouth. “Just a little ember that exploded into horrific violence. You know how it is.” Norn shoved Starsong away, and the unicorn fell onto the wooden floor lifelessly.

With a scream of fury the other bat ponies surged forward to attack. The Bloodborne escorts responded, rushing to the defense of their queen, and the first charge was battered aside with wing shields and spears. The Bloodborne had brought six ponies while the other tribes had arrived with two or three members each. Although the other tribes ultimately had numbers, the Bloodborne warriors were well prepared and their attackers lacked conviction, striking out in panic and desperation (and in many cases without weapons). After a few frenzied stabs and shield bashes most of the attackers backed off, surrounding the ring of bodyguards and snarling threateningly.

Cutlass struck aside a spear with his sword, and then spun into one of the escorts with a kick. She staggered, lashing out with a wing, and a leather buckler punched the stallion in the nose. He recoiled, and then a quick flap of his wings pulled him out of the way of a spear tip slicing in toward his flank.

Cutlass landed and the enemy mares stepped back into formation, presenting an arc of steel spikes to the ponies surrounding them. He looked back. Rattle was dragging Starsong free of the battle zone, but the unicorn’s body was quite limp and trailing an obscene amount of blood. His eyes darted back to Queen Norn just in time to see her take a big bite of the Element of Carnage.

Her muzzle scrunched up at the taste. “Oof. Don’t like that,” Norn grumbled around her mouthful. Bright red juice, seething with magic power, oozed from the corner of her mouth and seemed to sink into her flesh. “Doesn’t quite taste like blood, but the aftertaste is there. And the TEXTURE. Bleagh. You’d probably love it, Drakk.”

“Do… Do you have ANY IDEA what you’ve done?!” Drakk replied, steam puffing angrily from his nostrils as a tear dribbled down his cheek.

“I took the Element of Carnage for myself. By doing so I have prevented the rescue of that big bald failure trapped on the moon and denied her the full power of the artifacts that were prepared for her. And I’ve murdered the only pony with the knowledge to potentially make another attempt at this sad little affair.” She stuffed the remnant of the Element of Carnage into her mouth, and then gulped it down with a grimace. “Does that cover it?”

The other tribes looked stunned at the admission, but one of the Bloodborne mares coughed lightly.

“My Lady, she’s not BALD, it’s just-“

“Yes, yes, I know the star field is supposed to be the mane but the helmet makes it look like she’s bald! Hah!” Norn’s wings were starting to quiver, and a glow was building in her eyes even as she spoke.

“We won’t let you take the Elements for yourself!” snarled Sturm of the Eisenwing, quickly taking the Element of Malice off the floor with his wing.

“Sure, that’s fine. I just wanted this one,” Norn admitted. Her body was shaking now, and it was proving harder to keep casual concentration as it started to grow.

“You… what?” The other Elements lay on the floor, apparently undamaged by the short fall and the scuffle that had followed. The heads of the other tribes darted forward and snatched them up, each one looking surprised when the Bloodborne made no move to stop them.

“You can have the others. I don’t care. I’ve already accomplished what I meant to do here.” Norn’s breath got heavier as her jaws and teeth started to grow noticeably. The mares guarding her held their formation, but each one took a few steps away and gave their Queen a concerned glance, at the least.

“You probably imagine that I’m here to seize ultimate power, massacre the heads of the bat pony tribes and take control of all thestrals, or perhaps slay the Moon Cult as a hidden agent of Equestria, or maybe become the new Nightmare Queen or something. But, no.”

Norn suddenly grunted and spread her wings as they started to swell and quiver. “Hrrrg! GRAAH!!” Great talons erupted from her wings’ peaks, and blade-like spines grew out of the bones. “Ah! That stings! Ugh… Now where was I?”

“WHY, Norn?!” Cutlass demanded, dragging his blade against the ground menacingly. “If you didn’t do this for conquest or revenge or something like that then WHY would you make a move against us?”

“Oh, Cutlass… for you, I’m sorry.” the tribal elder was almost twice the size of her guards by now, with shaggy hair and teeth like knives. She gave the stallion a pout, her eyes gleaming with crimson. “Don’t take this personally. This isn’t about you. This is about… HER.”

One wing was thrust upward toward the hole in the roof. The other bat ponies glanced upward, toward the full moon barely visible through the criss-crossing branches.

“Nightmare Moon,” Norn said, her expression getting visibly agitated. “The insipid little Princess who thought to cast the world into darkness because she was JEALOUS. The inept monster who whipped our people into a frenzy of revolution, LOST, and then got us cast out of Equestria. The useless sow who CONTINUES to dominate our lives two decades out from her defeat and a million miles away!” she snarled. “But no more. This moon the Bloodborne tribe renounces the Nightmare once and for all. We have had enough bowing and scraping to the soul who brought us to ruin.”

The other tribes recoiled with each insult, their mouths agape.

“I… I had no idea you felt this way,” Bleak Attica said, cringing.

“Yes, well, it was fairly important to keep close confidence what with the whole twenty-year plot to spring her from moon jail and make her more powerful than ever,” Norn sneered. “I say the Nightmare has earned her punishment. Let her wait.”

“And what about US, Norn?! What of the thestrals?!” Cutlass shouted. “Twenty years of hardship! Lives lost! Futures dashed! Resources spent! For what?! To keep scraping by in the pits for the next thousand years?!”

“You’ve doomed us all with your petulance,” Rattle proclaimed, the bone charms on her tail bouncing against each other.

“We could have ruled Equestria!” Sturm hissed. “Now we have lost that chance, and lost the high magister and the lore and magic she possessed! All thanks to YOUR petty resentment!”

“You didn’t just take away Nightmare Moon’s chance at freedom, Lady Norn!” Drakk continued, fresh tears soaking his cheeks. “You took away our future! Our hope!”

Norn rolled her eyes. “I have already apologized to Prince Cutlass. I care nothing for the rest of this moaning.” Then she quivered, and a line of spikes grew along her spine. “Ooh… that one felt kind of nice…” she looked back at the other bat ponies, looming over her retinue. “Are we done here? If none of you are actually going to do anything then I’m going to go smash the lunar portal and then go home.”

“RAAAAAAUGH!!” Cutlass reared up and then took to the air, leaping into position for an aerial attack.

The warrior mares moved in an instant to protect Norn, but she suddenly threw her wings forward and then spread them, parting her escorts and shoving them aside. Her eyes gleamed happily, and drool oozed from between her teeth. Cutlass darted forward, his body a dark blur and his blade a silvery arc leading it.

The attack was aimed for her eye; a brutal strike made to incapacitate as quickly as possible. Norn’s wing swung at him to intercept and Cutlass had to adjust his angle, slicing across the mare’s forehead and up through her ear. He flew higher as her other wing lashed out, talons extended, and he barely dodged out of the way.

“Bold! I’ve always liked that about you, Cutlass!” Norn crowed, spreading her wings again but remaining grounded. “But I’m sure you know how this ends.”

Cutlass darted in again, blade slicing into Norn’s neck. Norn took the full brunt of the attack and slammed a hoof down on the stallion as soon as his momentum was spent. Cutlass buckled instantly, growling in pain as he was pinned to the floor.

“I think you might have had a chance if you ate your own fruit,” Norn said as she used her wing to pull the short sword out of her neck. Blood seeped freely from her wounds but the cuts knit rapidly, sealing closed even as the others watched. “Would the rest of you care to join in? You can take a minute to digest the power of your Elements, if you need it. No?”

The others looked at their Elements doubtfully, and then back at the monstrous thestral slowly crushing a stallion under her hoof. Cutlass had the Element of Shadows in his leg pouch, although he was currently in no position to use it.

“We eat the Elements of Destruction, and then what? Turn into pony monsters and fight you?” Rattle asked. “Have a big battle royale between all of us, maybe? To see who gets the honor of facing down a united Equestria and getting added to Celestia’s statue garden?”

Bleak Attica shook her head. “The damage is done. We cannot win now, and this infighting only weakens us further, threatening our survival. Canterlot stands triumphant yet again, and without having lifted a hoof.”

“And it’s YOUR FAULT, Norn! You did this!” snarled Cutlass, squirming under her hoof.

Norn stared at the surrounding bat ponies with contempt. “You really are nothing without that bald embarrassment of a Princess, aren’t you? Pathetic.” She took her hoof off Cutlass and then kicked him aside, eliciting a shout of pain from the stallion. “You don’t deserve victory.”

“What?!” Sturm snarled. “After you-“

“You don’t deserve supremacy,” Norn interrupted, her eyes flashing crimson.

“B-But we-“ Drakk stuttered.

“You don’t deserve hope,” Norn spat, spreading her wings again. “I am done with you pit vermin. BLOODBORNE!”

“Yes, Queen!” the other five mares barked in unison.

“To the skies! Our work here is done.” The other mares of her tribe launched into the air, zipping out of the hut via the hole in the roof. Norn took flight a moment later, her massive wings moving so much air that she nearly knocked over the closest ponies watching her departure.

“Maybe, just maybe, in a thousand years my descendants will regret this decision!” Norn said, having to bellow over the wind she was making with her ascent, “Enjoy the wait! HAH HA HA HA HAAAA!!”

With a cackle that chilled the blood, the Queen of the Bloodborne surged upward through the air, smashing through the branches overhead and rising into the moonlit night.

Ferrous Dominus – sector 20
Nightwatch – Lieutenant Dusk Blade’s quarters

Dusk Blade woke up with a jolt.

It wasn’t quite the shock to consciousness that he usually experienced when waking up from a nightmare. His heart rate wasn’t elevated and he didn’t feel any sense of panic. If anything, he felt cold and sluggish. The images from his dream kept replaying in his mind as he blinked repeatedly, crowding out his waking thoughts as if his brain was desperately trying to keep the memory from fading away like most dreams did.

It wasn’t necessary. This wasn’t the first time he had dreamt of that mysterious glade and that peculiar night, and he remembered every moment of it. Every character. Every sound and smell. The names of the ponies that he had seen but no one had addressed. All of it was lodged in his memory like a nail.

Dusk stood up on his bed and stretched his wings, trying to push out the strange thoughts. The chronometer on the counter blinked 14:00. A dark curtain up over the room’s only window – tastefully decorated with a stitching of Twilight Sparkle’s cutie mark – blocked the sunlight from the room, but it was obvious at a glance that it was the middle of the day.

Dusk groaned and stepped down off his bed. It was way too early for him to be awake, but he knew he wasn’t going to get back to sleep. He trotted over to his dresser and hooked the peak of his wing on the handle, pulling it open.

A dozen pictures of Twilight Sparkle were on in the inside wall of the dresser cabinet, plastered haphazardly over a poster that had “DO IT FOR HER” in large, bold font. One of them were high-fidelity pict-captures that featured the young Princess in her armor, but most were an assortment of less modern photographs and paintings of highly varying quality. There was even one from when Twilight was still a unicorn, gathered together with the rest of the Elements of Harmony. The other mares in that particular photo were mostly obscured by other Twilight pictures pinned on top of it so that only she was visible.

Dusk turned on the dresser lumen and stared at his collection. Normally he felt his heart swell just at the sight of the brave purple mare, and he would then race off to his next assignment – or that evening’s shady plot – with renewed determination and vigor.

Today he felt nothing. The images just seemed to blur into a mess of silver, gold, and lavender mush before his eyes. The laughter of Lady Norn repeated in his ears, casting false images across the room through his confused echolocation. He plucked his armor vest from the peg on the cabinet door and started putting it on.

When he took his respirator mask from its hook, Dusk exposed another couple of pict-captures attached to the dresser interior. One featured him in a barracks, next to three other bat ponies. The other ponies were covered up by the other pict, this one featuring a certain earth pony cyborg in a charcoal black hood and cloak. Gear Works was standing atop a rampart, his servo arm reaching into an ammo hopper behind a jammed-up quad-barreled autocannon.

“……” Dusk Blade paused while putting on his mask, staring at the picture. He remembered when the picture was taken, during an Ork air raid on the fortress. He remembered the explosions and the klaxons and even a few moments from when he had helped chase down a pilot that had survived being shot down.

He should have remembered more. The pict was less than a month old. But the memory was invaded and obscured by imagery of the Fallen Glade. Ponies he had never met screeching in voices he had never heard loomed in his thoughts.

Cutlass.
The Element of Shadows.
The Nightmare.

Dusk blinked, suddenly jolting out of his distraction. He glanced over at the chronometer. 14:20. He hadn’t even strapped on his gunnery brace yet.

With a frustrated growl, the Lunar Lieutenant picked up his weapon. Patrol. He had to get to his patrol.

I know nobody asked for a Dusk Blade/batpony story, but I kind of bought a bunch of bat pony adopts and then a story kind of fell out onto the page. Oh well!

Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 1
Portents

Ferrous Dominus sector 12
Smelter facility 9

The labor horn blared, announcing the end of the shift.

Dusk Blade jolted at the noise, his drooping eyelids snapping open and his ears perking. On the streets below menials were already flooding out of the smelting complex, eager to get home after a day’s hard labor. The chatter was a rising cacophony below the anti-air turret that he was perched on, creating a stream of echoes that sketched the world around him to his sensitive ears.

As it so happened that sketch was currently scribbled rubbish. As soon as the horn stopped blowing and he adjusted to the noise from below, the same old memories returned and again demanded his attention. He just couldn’t focus, albeit he couldn’t claim to be putting great effort into it. Patrols in Ferrous Dominus were not typically exciting affairs and he was still exhausted.

Down below, most of the menials had already departed and the slaves were being transported out. A long chain gang of minotaur and diamond dogs were being marched into the streets, their coats darkened with soot and char. Unlike the menials, who were issued respirators and protective cloaks of varying make and quality, the forced labor usually had mere bandannas and towels to filter the soot and toxins that filled the manufactorum and constantly spilled into the air. The air condition inside the smelter was considerably worse than the city’s general quality, to the point that some of the menials took off their respirators and cloaks in the streets to cool themselves off after having endured the choking heat and poisonous fumes all day.

Dusk looked over the prisoners in passing interest, but it was a brief distraction before his mind returned to the dream of that ridiculous glade again.

“Good evening, Lieutenant! You look a little lonely!” came a voice from behind him.

A bat pony stallion slightly bigger than Dusk swooped down above him, landing on one of the barrels of the quad cannon. He briefly glanced over at the crowd below, but immediately dismissed them; clearly he was here for the other thestral.

“Hello, Gloomy,” Dusk mumbled, not bothering to look at him.

Gloom Fang wore the same night-blue armor that Dusk had, complete with the same moon patch and squadron designator, and a similar tactical respirator to protect him from pollution in the city and gaseous hazards in the field. The armor and mask mostly obscured his coat, which was a mix of dull purple shades; the color was darkest along his wings, which had a thick, sharp claw on each peak. His mane was a wave of pale blue with darker blue stripes that hung on one side of his face.

“The sector patrol is complete. Two irregularities. Crates with broken seals. Pretty innocuous, but we reported it anyway and checked for any hazards. Nothing serious,” Gloom Fang said, slowly walking out to the very end of the cannon barrel.

“Hmmm,” was Dusk’s reply.

Gloom paused, and then he hopped down to land on one of the cannon barrels closer to the Lieutenant. “You seem… lethargic. Is it the dreams again?”

Dusk’s eye twitched. “Yeah. They’re getting worse. It’s basically every day now.” He still didn’t turn to face the other bat pony.

“Sounds bad. You’re not the only one, either.”

Dusk whipped his head around. “What? You too?” he asked.

Gloom chuckled. “Heh, no. I still sleep like a rock. Nacht, on the other hoof…” his expression turned more serious. “She hasn’t had a good day’s rest in weeks. And three days ago, Neuron had one, too.”

Dusk blinked. “Did Nacht say what hers were about?”

“Yeah, kind of. They’re all different each day, unlike yours,” Gloom explained, settling down to lounge on the cannon barrel. “Mostly they’re about us, but she says that sometimes a dream starts and she thinks it’s one of our missions or memories but then at some point she’ll turn around and all the ponies are different.” He paused. “She even got one like that where it turned out she was dreaming about the Elements of Harmony. Everything was perfectly recalled, like a vid-capture, and none of it from what she’s read or seen in her waking hours. Really weird stuff.”

Dusk silently thought that over, and then he frowned. “What was Neuron’s about?”

Gloom’s expression darkened. “She dreamt about… her. She wouldn’t say anything more about it.”

Dusk Blade grimaced, and then went back to staring at the crowd below. There was some shouting going on now between one of the chain gangs and the menials.

“… You know what this means, don’t you?” Gloom Fang asked.

“No, of course I don’t know what it means,” Dusk snapped. “I know what YOU think it means, but you’re always wrong.”

“I am not!” Gloom huffed. “Look, Dusk, I get that you actually-“

“Do NOT start with this again, Gloomy,” Dusk warned. “It’s not happening. Not for me, not for you, not for the others. Magic is real. Gods are real. The army of fusion-powered primates toting laser guns and chainswords are real. But prophecies? Prophecies are fake. We’ve been down this road too many times to keep chasing after fate like this.”

Gloom didn’t look impressed. “Oh yeah? If gods are real, why haven’t you joined a cult?”

“Listen here, you smug little-“

A scream came from below, startling the thestrals from their argument. A minotaur slave had seized an earth pony worker by his leg and was hauling him up into the air. The other slaves and menials were backing away, and down the street a pair of Dark Mechanicus Scavurel were alerted to the situation.

“I’ve had enough of you!” barked the slave, his voice on the edge of a wheeze. He seized the stallion by the mane and then hauled him up, wrapping his meaty, soot-blackened arms around the pony’s rear legs and neck.

“Let me go! Are you crazy?! I didn’t do anything!” the equine shrieked.

“Take off these chains, now!” the minotaur bellowed. “I’ll break this pony’s neck! Don’t test me!”

“They’re not going to let you go to save me!” the stallion protested desperately. He tried to kick his legs free, but the minotaur’s grip on them was as unyielding as the metal shackles on the slave’s hooves. “They’re going to kill us both, you maniac!”

A growl rose in Dusk’s throat. The Scavurel were pushing through the pedestrians and workers rushing the other way. He could hear their lascarbines charging already; the capacitors releasing a high-pitched whine that was discernable to him above the rest of the noise. It would only be some ten seconds until they had a clear line of fire.

“We should probably do something,” Gloom said, his blue eyes narrowing. “I’ll try to-“

Dusk dove off the platform.

“Help! Somebody help! Please don’t shoot me!” the pony wailed, only for the arm hooked around his throat to tighten and silence him.

“The chains! Now!” the minotaur bellowed, his eyes darting back and forth wildly at the spectators backing away. “I know one of you can remove them! Get back here! I’ll, uh, wuh?”

A dark streak descended from above and the minotaur tensed, ready to break the equine in his arms. Much to his confusion, however, rather than flying at him it dove into the empty rockcrete in front of him. The curious phenomenon passed through the ground instantly, vanishing underneath the surface without leaving a trace or making a sound.

The minotaur blinked repeatedly, completely flummoxed. Another bat pony began a dive toward the slave worker during his moment of diversion. The Scavurel pushed through the last of the laborers in their way.

Dusk Blade shot up from the ground and punched his hoofblades into the arm holding the stallion around the neck. It flinched, but did not pull away entirely until Dusk kicked off of the minotaur’s stomach, prying it off of his hostage.

The minotaur didn’t have a chance to react to the assault before Gloom Fang reached him, biting hard into the other arm. Teeth like paring knives sunk through the leathery flesh and steely muscle, and a wash of crimson splashed across the legs of the hostage before he was finally released.

The minotaur staggered backward, wrenching his arms away from each of the thestrals that had cut them open. Gloom Fang let go immediately, flapping his wings to get some distance. Dusk stayed close, bouncing up in the air and then spinning around.

Both his rear legs lashed out, smashing into the minotaur’s jaw. The slave reeled and fell backwards, overwhelmed by the speed and ferocity of the assault. The stallion he had seized scrambled away, his coat spattered with blood that was not his own.

Dusk and Gloom hovered in the air over the minotaur, glaring silently. Gloom licked his fangs, which were still wet with the slave’s blood. Dusk didn’t say anything as the minotaur stood back up, his attention fully focused for the first time all day.

Behind the thestrals, a pair of lascarbines suddenly opened up. A storm of red beams filled the space between the bat ponies, and after about two seconds of rapid fire, they stopped. Gloom Fang detected the distinct scent of burning meat as he replaced his mask, which he had removed in order to attack.

“Labor disruption neutralized,” buzzed the Scavurel enforcer, lowering his carbine.

The two soldiers of the Dark Mechanicus were short and rather thin compared to the ordinary human soldiers and cultists, but they were no less intimidating for their paltry frame. Dark cloaks of charcoal black covered their bodies and heads, such that all that was visible of their faces were a few bright green lights peering out from the shadows of their hoods. Their arms were long and it was not clear among the wrappings, clothing, and tubing how much of them was still flesh.

Gloom Fang started building altitude and Dusk swung around to join him, but a sudden command from one of the cyborg soldiers stopped him immediately.

“Designation: Lieutenant Blade. Remain stationary and submit to interrogative,” the Scavurel said. The charge on his lascarbine was still quite audible to Dusk; clearly this one was still ready to shoot something.

“Yes, Scavurel? Is there a problem?” Dusk asked, hovering in the same spot while the cyborgs approached. He wasn’t especially nervous, but dealing with Dark Mechanicus personnel was always an unpleasant prospect (with one very specific exception).

“Query: At time of engagement ident-signum was non-responsive for 2.71 seconds. Chronometric register 911571. Visual contact was lost shortly after impact with rockcrete surface with no apparent disruption to physical matrix. Chronometric register 911586. Visual contact was re-established 2.31 seconds after this register stamp, with ident-signum re-established immediately after. The velocity and vector of ascent from exit point defies conventional explanation.” The Scavurel walked a circuit around Dusk while he spoke, his optics fixed on the bat pony. “How is this possible?”

“I don’t really know what that means,” Dusk mumbled. The dream was already starting to come back, distracting him from the enforcer’s words.

“Alternate descriptor: you appeared to fly into the ground,” the enforcer said, still slowly circling the thestral. “Then you appeared to fly back OUT of the ground. Electro-aura scans confirm this was not an illusory projection. Explain.”

Dusk held back a groan. “It’s an ancient bat pony technique. Very secret stuff. Can’t share any more than that, sorry.”

The other Scavurel stopped in front of Dusk Blade opposite its partner, and a bleating pulse of static erupted from its mask. The other enforcer replied, his response equally unintelligible to anyone without a cogitator drilled into their brains. Dusk had no idea if the soldiers were mad, confused, or just bored. Mechanicus cyborgs often lacked expressive facial structures and body language in addition to preferring a mode of speech that sounded more like a vox malfunction than a language. It was one of the reasons dealing with them was so unpleasant, in addition to the tech-cultists having all the social graces of a pit viper.

Eventually the Scavurel turned away sharply and walked toward the dead slave to flag the body for removal. Neither of them addressed or dismissed Dusk now that they decided he was no longer relevant. The bat pony glared at their backs and then gained altitude, flying away from the streets to rejoin Gloom Fang on the turret.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Gloom licked some of the blood that had splashed on his vambrace, a grin plastered on his face. “Minotaur blood is real savory and lean. Heavy on the iron. I think the slaves actually taste better than the soldiers.”

“Gross,” Dusk remarked, taking his perch opposite the vampiric stallion. “Anyway if you want to drain the body you’d better wait until the Scavs leave.”

Gloom looked up at the other stallion cautiously. Without his mask on, one could see that Gloom Fang’s eyes had two dark slashes running under them that bent along the curve of his cheeks. At a glance they would have been mistaken for war paint, but on closer inspection it almost seemed like a pair of slits were cut into the skin.

“It was kind of risky doing that in the middle of the troops, don’t you think?” Gloom asked. “Those Scavs probably recorded the whole thing.”

“Maybe. They don’t care,” Dusk retorted. “I’m just one more weirdo with bizarre powers and a bad attitude as far as they’re concerned. What’s it matter?”

“You’re, uh, usually more concerned about it,” Gloom said carefully. “I think the lack of sleep is getting to you.”

“I agree. What am I supposed to do about it?”

“I think they have some serums for that. I hear they’re pretty popular with the mercs. Lot of shell shock and PTSD out here and not much in the way of treatment options other than ‘become a servitor.’ Plus all the Warp nightmares, although that’s mostly from people who sleep on their daemon ship.”

“Drugs, huh? Not the worst idea.” Dusk jumped into the air again and started flapping his wings. “I’m gonna do a route through sector 4. Catch you later.”

“A ‘route?’ You’re always loitering around sector 4 these nights,” Gloom complained.

“And I don’t plan on stopping! Later, bloodsucker!”

Ferrous Dominus – sector 4
Mechanicus forge temple Delta 3-8

Dusk Blade silently alighted on a coolant pipe, searching the room below. The temple was a cavernous hall littered with scrap metal and machines, most of which had been salvaged from various battle zones. The devices among the salvage were used to disassemble, machine, and reassemble the other materials. Lathes, welders, solders, carvers, and data-engravers were scattered about the walls and alcoves, some of them built into dedicated shrines or integrated with an assistant servitor.

There was a single occupant down below. A stallion dressed in the standard uniform used by the 38th Company’s Dark Mechanicus contingent: a black cloak of vulcanized rubber. A respirator mask was affixed over his muzzle so completely that it completely concealed his flesh a shell of armaplas, and a hose extended from the snout only to loop back and vanish under the folds of his robe. The rest of his face had likewise been replaced by Mechanicus artifice, with a dark screen built over the mask and extending up to his hairline. The screen had about a dozen aqua-colored lights visible on it, scattered across the surface from one end to the other. The lights shifted, changed shape, and even vanished or multiplied frequently; perhaps according to need, but Dusk suspected it had more to do with emotional expression. On the pony’s back was a long servo arm, while his tail had been replaced by a segmented metal tendril capped by a dataspike.

Gear Works of the Dark Mechanicus. The only pony Techpriest in all the galaxy.

Dusk Blade stepped off the pipe he was standing on, dropping down to another closer down. Then he glided lower, alighting upon a larger servo claw that was mounted in the wall.

Gear Works was surrounded by a series of holo-screens, most of them filled with streaming data screed that Dusk couldn’t hope to read. One of the screens appeared to have a bionics schemata on it, and the thestral crept closer to the very end of the servo claw to get a better look. It was a leg, as far as he could tell, but the diagram kept shifting perspectives rapidly and breaking the model into constituent parts.

Gears, for his part, was completely absorbed with his work. A metal part was clamped into a table vise while he carved away at it with a series of lasers built into the work bench. Several other parts were already scattered around the table surface, while others had been discarded into a nearby bin to be recycled.

Dusk Blade dropped onto the ground, his wings slowing his descent. He touched down with barely a tap against the steel flooring; a veritable alarm bell to his sensitive ears, but it was otherwise lost in the noise of Gear’s labors.

Smirking, Dusk lifted one wing and crept closer. Taking his time to line it up perfectly with Gear’s biological leg, he suddenly slapped it across Gear’s flank while screeching loudly.

“AAAAAAAAGH!!” Gear Works howled in terror, stumbling forward and smashing his head into the laser array. The holo-screens flickered chaotically for a moment, and then winked out of existence.

His tail whipped about like a snake, coiling high and pointing at Dusk Blade. In an eye blink it struck, stabbing for the bat pony’s chest. Dusk slapped it down with a hoof mid-strike, not even bothering to evade. The spike struck the floor and sliced a long scar into the metal plating, a wash of sparks blooming along behind it.

“Hi, buddy! Keeping busy?” Dusk asked happily, stepping on Gear’s tail to keep it from trying to kill him again.

“GAH! Lieutenant!” Gears tried to whirl around to confront the other stallion, but missed a step when his tail went taut. The Dark Acolyte slipped and crashed onto his side, his head impacting the floor with the clang of metal striking metal.

Dusk’s smile quickly transformed into a wince. There was a long black mark that cut across Gear’s visor and mask from the laser tool, and one of his leg servos was making a strange grinding noise as he tried to stand back up.

“Wow, okay, sorry. Didn’t mean for you to be quite THAT surprised,” Dusk mumbled, stepping off of Gear’s tail and also backing out of convenient stabbing range.

“What are you doing here?!” Gear Works huffed, finally standing back up and facing the Lieutenant. His servo arm hovered overhead threateningly, the pincer yawning open as if to grab at Dusk, but as a rule it was a much slower and less dangerous tool than his tail.

Dusk grinned again. “Just checking up on my favorite Techpriest! Whatcha working on?”

Gears bleated something aggravated in Binaric, and then turned back to the workbench to switch off the laser cutter and check on the device on the table.

Dusk heard the grinding noise again, and his ear twitched. “Yo, is your shoulder still acting up? I can hear something rough in there.”

“Yes, well, the spill on the ground didn’t help,” Gears grumbled, his servo arm pushing the lens array for the laser aside. “There’s a bad bearing in there but I haven’t broken the shoulder assembly open yet to fix it. I’ve been very busy.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Dusk mumbled. Lying on the workbench was a metal frame of some sort. Probably a bionic leg, given the schemata he had glanced earlier. “Is this normal DarkMech stuff? I thought they had you cooking up more Striders.”

“This is not part of my Mechanicus duties, no,” Gear Works admitted. “This is a bit of a side project. After constructing more-or-less workable bionics for miss Shrike I decided to expand my knowledge of the field.”

“’More-or-less’ nothing,” Dusk scoffed. “Those wings were great! I know you hoped to do even better, but take the win.”

“I cannot consider a wing prosthesis that cannot sustain flight to be a success,” the cyborg pony grumbled. “Anyway, soon after I began studying more components, that layabout Capper started selling them on my behalf. Also without my permission. So now I have ‘clients,’ apparently. And deadlines.”

“Couldn’t you just… say ‘no?’ Like, just explain that they were ripped off by an unscrupulous cat and that you don’t owe them anything,” Dusk suggested.

“YOU try telling a mare with two legs left that she spent three month’s wages on nothing and will be discharged in a week,” Gears retorted.

“… Okay, sure. I’ll do that. Is she nearby? I can do it now.”

“No. Never mind. My fault.” Gear Works sighed and shook his head. “Anyway, if I can manage to build workable bionics, I would like to help these clients. Using the technology I’ve studied for the benefit of ponykind is the entire point of my membership in the Dark Mechanicus. So here I am.”

“It’s really cool you’re willing to help them out, Gears! I just think the stray cat-person you picked up in the desert shouldn’t be able to profit off of your good will,” Dusk explained. “Somepony should probably track him down and break a few ribs so that he understands what the problem is.”

“Lieutenant, while I appreciate your enthusiasm for harming people who annoy me – aside from yourself of course – I must decline this offer,” Gears replied wryly, turning over the frame and inserting a shaped plate.

“Okay, fine, but if I see that smirking weasel on my own don’t be surprised if he has a little ‘accident,’” the thestral snorted. Then he slapped a hoof onto Gear’s bionic shoulder. “Also, let’s fix this thing right now, while you have some help. That grinding noise is getting on my nerves.”

“How would you know how to fix a bionic leg?” Gear Works asked, his servo arm reaching for the laser welder.

“I don’t. You’ll need to talk me through it,” Dusk replied. He lifted up his left wing, which was partially wrapped around the handle of a screwdriver.

“Or you could leave,” the tech-cultist grumbled, guiding the laser array in a brief, highly precise pattern to weld the pieces together.

“We both know that’s not happening,” the Lunar Lieutenant chuckled. “So how do I open the shoulder casing? Can I just wedge this thing in the well and sort of pry it out?”

“Ugh… there’s an access bolt on top of the shoulder. Here,” Gear’s servo arm reached over and tapped the correct spot. “That holds the exo plate, with another four bolts holding the servo well in place. I’ll disengage the mag link.”

“Got it. You just lock that thing down and pretend I’m not even here.” Dusk fixed the screwdriver in place and then used his wing to twist it, pressing his hoof against the joint.

The two ponies worked in silence for some time after that, the only noise coming from the crackle of the laser welder and the creaking of Gear’s leg while it was gradually disassembled.

Dusk removed the outer servo frame and then started poking around inside the servo housing. Gear Works glanced over at him with a single sensor light in the corner of his optics visor, and then summoned a new holo-screen over the workbench.

“Here. The bearing is within the shoulder joint. You’ll need to remove the limb to get to them,” Gears explained. “Go ahead, I disengaged the mag-seal and I’m braced for it.”

The screen showed a part-by-part dissection of the bionic, with the assemblies slowly moving away from the rest of the mechanism and back again to show how they fit together. Dusk squinted at the holo-screen, and then shifted to get a better angle to pry the servo apart.

“Huh. You know, this is… kind of nice,” the bat pony mumbled while bracing a hoof against Gear’s side.

“Well it’s not a class IV ligament but it gets the job done,” the Dark Acolyte replied.

“No, no. It’s just… uh… my thoughts… are… it’s…” Dusk trailed off, uncertain how to explain it or of he should even try. “Never mind. Got it!”

Using his wings, Dusk wrenched the bionic leg free. Gear Works barely budged as the limb was removed, and only briefly paused in his work. Dusk Blade dropped the leg on the floor and then flipped it over, inspecting the shoulder assembly.

“Ah ha! Found it!” Dusk plucked the malformed sphere of metal from the assembly, squinting. “Yeesh, something ground this up good. You training for a marathon or something?”

“No,” Gears replied, “just the everyday wear of working around violent sociopaths.”

“The other Acolytes really doing a number on you, huh?” Dusk frowned, his lip curling subconsciously to expose his fang.

“No. I was not referring to anyone in the Mechanicus.”

Dusk Blade coughed and turned away, walking up to a canister with ball bearings of numerous sizes. He started picking through them, picking up one sphere after another with his wing and squinting at them.

“What were you thinking about earlier that had you flustered?” Gears suddenly asked.

Dusk hesitated for a few seconds. “Well… I’ve had a lot on my mind recently, that’s all.”

“I imagine you do. The fleet is due back within the week. Princess Sparkle will be with them, assuming nothing happened to her on deployment.”

Dusk plucked a particular bearing out of the container and then almost dropped it. “What? She is?!” He tried to recall the date. “SHE IS!!” he suddenly announced, looking stunned.

“…… Then it would seem something else is bothering you,” Gears mumbled.

“No, no! I mean, yes! But that’s not important now!” Dusk returned with the bearing, quickly spit on it for lubrication, and then jammed it into place. “I completely forgot! I’ve gotta find some kind of gift!”

“Why? Didn’t she tell you off quite decisively last time?”

“Yeah, but so what? If I quit now then I never deserved her to begin with!” Dusk Blade reasoned. “Besides, I’m still allowed to show my appreciation even if we’re not dating, aren’t I?”

He propped up the leg and then pushed it back into place. Gears wobbled a bit as he fought to stay upright, but once the servo assembly clicked into place Dusk relented. The mag-seal engaged, and a hum came from the servo micro-motor.

“Hmm… not terrible,” Gear Works admitted, using his servo arm to close the assembly case. “Install the securing bolts, please.”

“Sure, sure.” Dusk retrieved the screwdriver and got back to work, now even more animated. “Say, who owns that big room in the back of the temple? The one with the really hefty blast doors?”

“That used to belong to Warpsmith Kessler,” Gear replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Used to? Did he move out?”

“Warpsmith Kessler was killed fighting a dragon during the last assault on Ferrous Dominus,” Gears explained with a sigh. “The Mechanicus has already picked through his creations and belongings, but my understanding is that a suitable replacement has not yet been named. When there is a Warpsmith promoted to his office, that will be his personal forge.”

“Oh, so nobody’s even using it, huh? Wow that is SUPER interesting.” Dusk Blade couldn’t keep a smile off his face as he finished tightening the bolts, and then he slapped his hoof onto Gear’s shoulder. “All right! Fixed it!”

Gear Works stopped and stood up, wheeling about and taking a few experimental steps. There was still some friction in the shoulder joint, but it was minimal and quiet. The Dark Acolyte nodded.

“Well… thank you,” Gears said after a moment of hesitation. “That’s much better.”

“Anything for you, buddy!” the bat pony said brightly.

“Then I would like to ask an additional favor: do not break into and/or loot Lord Kessler’s forge,” Gears said bluntly.

Dusk recoiled, blinking rapidly. “What? Me? Would I do something like that?”

Gear Works did not have to speak in response to that, simply staring at Dusk with his optics lights narrowed slightly.

“… Okay, point taken. But there’s no way I could break into a place like that! Security is WAY too tight! Even if it is abandoned!” Dusk assured him.

“I would prefer a straightforward assurance that you will not steal from the temple rather than an explanation of why you wouldn’t try it,” Gears insisted.

“All right, all right, have it your way,” Dusk patted the cyborg on the head with his wing. “I promise I won’t steal anything from Kessler’s forge.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Gears said. He was still suspicious, of course, but felt better now that he had a promise he could directly refer to if Dusk broke his word.

“No problem, man! I’ve gotta go, but it was nice checking in on you.” Dusk Blade turned and trotted toward the exit, waving a wing and grinning the whole time.

The doors to the salvage forge slammed shut behind him, and Dusk Blade took a moment to stare at the huge, empty hallways of the Mechanicus temple. The halls were mostly wide and bare, allowing for transport lifts to easily navigate the space. Massive reliefs were carved into the walls, forming looming cyborg skulls or circuits that formed eight-pointed stars. At the end of the hall was a statue of a daemon standing on a dais, carved from glassy obsidian. Its arms were wrapped in chains that fed into the walls, and around its neck was a big cog that resembled a slave collar.

Dusk Blade lifted off into the air, took off the Chaos Star amulet that hung around his neck, and tossed it over one of the demon’s horns. Then he zipped down the hall the other way, making sure to stay as high as possible and fly as quietly as he could. At the end of the hall was an especially large vault door, flanked by two suits of Iron Warrior power armor holding a broadsword point-down. Dusk was reasonably sure they weren’t actual Space Marine guards, but beyond that it wasn’t possible for him to tell if they were actual suits of power armor, decorative facades, or something more insidious. He decided to keep his distance.

He landed on one of the pipes that ran along the ceiling, carefully creeping across it toward Kessler’s forge. The piping ran straight into the wall over the vault door, and he crept all the way to the end and pressed a hoof against the wall.

Dusk’s face broke into a smirk, and his body suddenly changed. A shroud of inky darkness seemed to seep out of his coat, totally wrapping around him. His eyes became glowing orbs of amber, and then shifted into bright streaks as he surged forward into brushed steel surface.

Dusk emerged on the other side of the wall and then dropped down onto a storage locker, touching the surface with barely a sound. The dark shroud around him vanished, and his eyes gleamed as he looked down on the Warpsmith’s forge. There were many empty containers, open lockers, and cells that had been forced open with melta cutters; no doubt the work of Techpriests who had gotten to Kessler’s belongings soon after his death.

The missing artifacts didn’t matter to Dusk. He didn’t want to take anything TOO valuable and important that might get Twilight in trouble if she were caught with it. Numerous mechanical wonders still littered the room, apparently beneath the notice of the first wave of looters: servo skulls, optical bands, mag-cores, arc capacitors, and a collection of data wafers with very unambiguous warning labels on them. The walls held numerous weapons, from various bolt pistols to much larger machines that looked too heavy and power-hungry for even a Space Marine to carry into combat. There were even a few dataslates on a central desk that had been largely stripped bare and even had the memory coils torn from its integrated cogitator.

Dusk Blade reached up for the optics visor that usually rested on his forehead, and slipped it down over his eyes. A few clicks of a button enabled the electromagnetic filtering, and much of his vision turned to a nonsensical mesh of blue panels. Very few of the devices were actively channeling enough current to show up on the scan, and he looked over the walls.

You don’t deserve victory.
You don’t deserve supremacy.

“Aw, c’mon, not now,” Dusk huffed as the strange whispers reached his ears. “Concentrate!”

You don’t deserve hope.

A careful scan of the walls revealed a single vid-capture unit feeding data through a relief of the Dark Mechanicus emblem carved high on the wall, above the weapon racks. There were two others like it in the forge, but the observer sensors currently had no power; Dusk assumed that the other Techpriests had disabled them before looting this place for the most valuable artifacts. This one they had neglected for some reason, or they had turned it back on after leaving.

“All right. Smash and grab, just like old times,” Dusk said under his breath, crouching and flipping open the saddlebag under his right wing. “Three, two, one.”

Leaping from his perch, he sped toward the carving, hugging the wall as best he could to stay out of its area of observance. As soon as he could reach it he punched a hoofblade into the ruby red lens, and a blast of sparks burst from the device. Dusk leapt off the wall, gliding down to the table in the middle of the forge.

“Showtime,” he whispered, landing on the table surface.

The inactive servo skull went first, plucked from the meat hook it was hanging on and stuffed into the bag upside-down. The cables that trailed under it hung out the side, dragging behind Dusk as he moved to a series of thick vials with labels written in some tech-cult script he couldn’t even identify. He snatched them up with his wing, one by one, and slipped them into his pack.

Next came the data wafers, and he opened the saddlebag on the other side in preparation to stuff that one full as well.

The sound of heavy metal footfalls slamming against the flooring came from the hall outside.

“What? Already?!” Dusk hissed, scooping all the wafers into his bag. “What’s with this response time? Nobody even works here anymore!”

The footfalls were getting louder quickly, and the power cores were on the other side of the room. Dusk quickly grabbed the only loose items still in immediate reach – the dataslates on the desk – and then dove underneath a table as the forge blast doors unlocked.

A bright green ray of light poured through the crack between the blast doors as soon as the mag-lock disengaged, and a moment later the barrel of a heavy lasblaster stuck through the opening, already whining with its ignition charge. It did not open fire, luckily, and the detector ray started sweeping back and forth across the forge interior as the doors opened fully.

A heavily armored Dark Techpriest Secutor, as big as a Space Marine and holding a weapon in each of its four arms, stepped into the room. Crackling intonations came from its mask while multiple green rays of energy swept the room, searching for targets. One ray scanned up and stopped over the broken vid sentry.

+Analyzing damage pattern… complete. Expanding search.+ A string of harsh, deep Binaric came from the iron mask of the Secutor, and the detector rays started sweeping down across the desks and lockers in the forge.

One such ray swept over the table Dusk was hiding under. The Secutor’s optics suddenly turned from green to red, and it surged forward.

+ANOMALY DETECTED. HUNTER-KILLER PROTOCOLS ENGAGED,+ it bleated, throwing the table aside the moment it was in reach.

Spare parts were scattered all over the floor, and the table landed against an empty munitions locker. There was nothing underneath. The Secutor twitched left and right, detector rays sweeping the empty floor.

After several seconds of this, the Dark Techpriest stood up fully and continued its search. Detector rays and infra-readers covered every bare inch of the forge, seeking any signs of movement, heat, electro-aura disruption, or breach in the building superstructure that could have been used as a method of entry and exit. After that the Techpriest connected to the local noosphere register, recalling the coordinate logs of all ident-codes within the last several minutes and searching for any that could be triangulated to this room.

Nothing. There were many ident-codes active in the temple, including one from an obnoxious visitor from the Lunar Guard. However, the stallion’s ident-marker had been detected in the hall the entire time during the alert, and was still there even now. The only signum identifier that had ventured into the forge was the Secutor’s.

+Target not found. Search inconclusive. Escalating investigation.+

Ferrous Dominus – sector 20
Nightwatch, Lieutenant Dusk Blade’s quarters

Dusk staggered through the doors, quickly slamming a hoof into the switch on the inside to close them. He looked exhausted, although there was little sign of physical strain. His mane was askew, his eyelids drooped, and his expression was miserable.

“Dang it, I got so comfortable talking to Gears that I completely forgot to ask about the sleeping drugs,” Dusk grumbled to himself.

The dream was already clawing at the back of his mind, trying to draw his focus away from the waking world. He dreaded the prospect of falling asleep, but his body demanded it. The intrusive vision had completely sapped his energy, and it wasn’t even midnight yet.

With a grimace, Dusk trotted over to a coffee table and then flipped up the top with his wing. It opened up to reveal a padded cavity inside; there was already a small pouch and a vox-recorder inside, but they were soon buried as Dusk unloaded his saddlebags into the hidden storage space.

He picked up one of the vials he had taken, wrapping it in the tip of his wing. He squinted at the indecipherable string of markings on the label, and then shifted it around. There was another sticker with a skull surrounded by lightning bolts.

“Ominous. Still confusing, but ominous,” he mumbled to himself before dropping the vial into the storage space. Then he crammed the servo skull in on top of it, stopping briefly to ensure it was deactivated fully and not in some kind of standby mode that could track and transmit information.

After the servo skull, he withdrew the data wafers. These weren’t labeled at all, and he worried about how he was going to find a way to identify them for gifting, sale, or personal use without letting Gears knew he had them. A plan for another time.

With only the dataslates left, Dusk flipped his secret stash closed and dumped his final acquisitions onto the top of the coffee table. There were four slates, none of them possessing any external markings or labels. They also didn’t have gene-encoders or any other sort of obvious security device, suggesting their contents weren’t locked, or at least not locked very securely.

Dusk lifted up one slate and flicked the button on the side with his wing.

“Hmmm… looks like a technical report from the orbital. Useless.” He dropped it and activated the next one. “A letter from somepony named ‘Hope Springs.’ ……… Dang... I don’t think I’d have the gall to talk to an Iron Warrior with that kind of tone. Wasn’t she supposed to be a diplomat?”

The next one was some kind of technical readout that was completely unreadable to him. The characters were all familiar, but seemed to be jumbled up at random. Encrypted. There was almost no chance of getting it deciphered then, as anyone with the key would also know he wasn’t supposed to have it.

Images of a monstrous bat pony started to crystallize as his concentration faltered. Eyes of deep crimson and fangs like carving knives loomed large in his thoughts, and his vision started to blur. Voices started rushing to the fore, spouting dialogue he had heard dozens of times already.

With a disgusted grunt, Dusk Blade put down the dataslate and turned away, leaving the fourth device without turning it on. He walked up to the cogitator on the side of his room and flicked the power switch with his wing. Once the vid-screen turned on, he swiped a hoof up to the corner of the control screen.

The vid-screen flickered, and Dusk sat on his haunches as the image rapidly crystallized.

“Such was the slaughter that came of the Southern interdiction that NO prisoners were captured to grant further intelligence as to their activities! LORD KHORNE IS PLEASED!! MANY MORE SKULLS WILL GARNISH OUR LORD’S THRONE THIS DAY!!”

The familiar face – or rather the burlap mask covering his face – of Kilroy the CNN anchor filled the screen while the man shook his fist in the air angrily. His co-host, Scoops the pegasus, waited patiently for his shouting to peter out and then held up a wing.

“Although the string of victories have ensured Company dominance of the Badland regions, military analysts remain stumped by this force of resistance fighters known as the Keepers,” Scoops explained, her tone grim. “It’s not so strange that a reasonably advanced species lived on our world in such isolation that Equestria had never encountered them as a civilization. The badlands have always been known as a dangerous frontier, and the lands beyond have never been subjected to any serious exploration. But even so, these creatures are puzzling!”

“They are small and WEAK!” Kilroy snarled, pounding a meaty fist on the table. “Look at them! Pitiful!”

The screen behind the CNN hosts switched graphics to show a short, four-armed creature with dark, bristle-like hair and thin eyes. It wore a set of goggles and a bandanna over its face, along with extensive protective clothing; not quite armor, but adequate enough to easily protect it from the elements.

“As of yet, it is not publicly known what these Keepers want or why they’re attacking the 38th Company. Their aggression toward human soldiers, Mechanicus automata, and even the Iron Warriors themselves is remarkable, as they are one of the few species on our world who have not been contacted or obviously affected by the incursion and occupation by alien life so far! Kilroy, do you have any insights?”

“DEATH TO THE XENO SCUM!!!” he screamed, standing up and kicking his chair away. It crashed off-screen, and the vid display flickered.

“… Anything more specific?” Scoops asked.

“We have captured a handful of these creatures and subjected them to interrogation,” Kilroy said, standing up straight and absently adjusting his tie. “Our use of psychic examination of prisoners is faster and more reliable than simple torture, but it is not flawless. It is possible the captured Keepers have some sort of unique defenses or do not know the information we want from them. It is also possible, of course, that our leaders have extracted the necessary intelligence but not made it public. Perhaps they are awaiting the return of the Astartes regiments before launching a higher-intensity offensive.”

Dusk Blade felt his ears and eyelids droop as the cultist continued, and he laid down on the floor fully to get more comfortable. He dozed off almost as soon as his belly touched the floor.

???

“One thousand years?! Outrageous! Do you really think our order will survive that long unaided?”

“With Starsong Ebony at the head I might have thought it possible. But the wretched mule even took that from us.”

“The Bloodborne’s betrayal must be punished. If an attack on the order of the Moon Mages isn’t answered-“

“Answered?! Answered with WHAT?! You want to try shooting your little glittery darkbolt arrows at the legion of bloodthirsty warrior mares led by the Element of Carnage?!”

“Well… no, but… maybe a curse would-“

“The Bloodborne know of all of our alcoves and shrines. In our eagerness to curry favor with the strongest thestral tribe, we bared our throat to them and now we’ve paid the price. We must relocate and rebuild now. We cannot afford to show weakness OR provoke retaliation.”

“The other tribes surely see this debacle as a weakness already. Right now the bat ponies are nursing their shock from the betrayal, but they may eventually decide the Bloodborne have a point if we cannot provide a path to their salvation.”

“It’s BECAUSE of the Bloodborne that we can’t help!”

“Correct. How long that will matter to ponies scrambling to survive under the constant threat of extermination is anypony’s guess.”

“ENOUGH.”

A glow from a horn lit the room, finally illuminating the setting. Five unicorn mares were sitting on cushions and blankets around a large wooden table. They varied in age from teenagers to middle-aged ponies, and all of them were dressed in elaborate sorcerer’s robes with numerous lunar-themed ornaments. Incense candles burned away on the table, filling the dark room with a heady aroma, but they did little to ease the tension. The Moon Mages were scared, exhausted, and uncertain.

“We must act, but the timetable is now set. A thousand years is the Nightmare’s sentence, so for a thousand years we shall keep our existence hidden from the hated sun. Equestria knows that Princess Luna possessed sympathizers, but they still think the only substantial opposition is the thestrals. It is necessary this deception continue. Secrecy or annihilation. Now… what of the remaining Elements?”

“The tribes still have them. They are apparently treating them like treasured artifacts, but Eisenwing has reached out to ask if the fruits… spoil. I’m not sure what to tell them, although I’m leaning toward ‘no.’”

“I don’t understand. Why haven’t they eaten the fruits and commanded their power?”

“Caution. They are not so bold as Queen Norn as to toy with powerful magics, and they know less of what we were doing with the Tree of Turmoil. They have many questions about the side effects of consuming such a thing, and whether there is still hope to use them for a greater purpose.”

“A greater purpose?”

“Yes. The tribes have little desire to go to war with the Bloodborne, and less still to challenge the supremacy of Equestria without them. They hold out hope that something else can be done. With some effort, we may yet give them that. I have a plan.”

“And why should we give them hope? Do you think they deserve it?!”

“What?! What are you saying?”

“I’m saying those insipid rodents just stood there gawking as Queen Norn killed the Matron! They flailed uselessly at a cohort half their number while she consumed the Element of Carnage! The blasted thestrals have delivered to us DISASTER AND BETRAYAL, and I for one-“

A buzzer cut through the voices, and the scene suddenly blurred into a white void.

“Hwuh? Wha…” Dusk jolted upright in alarm, shifting to combat readiness with his wings spread and his ears perked.

“I’m sorry Sir, but we don’t really have any, uh, weapons or mechanical industry in Silver Meadows. We mostly cater to tourists and flower merchants.” An earth pony mare was rubbing her hooves together anxiously, sweating. Kilroy was seated on a stool with an interview card in his hand, looming over her.

“PATHETIC. Why do your people not answer the call to war?! Do you wish the Orks to claim supremacy over your labors?!”

“W-Well, no, we don’t, but I just don’t see how our primary export of buttercups can help…”

The door buzzer went off again, snapping Dusk out of his distraction. He turned away from the cogitator and trotted over to the door console. With a tap and a swipe, it displayed the ident-codes of the individuals on the other side. A worthwhile habit for someone who had recently burgled the Dark Mechanicus, even if he hardly expected an angry Techpriest to use the doorbell (unless it was Gear Works of course, the sap). Dusk opened the door.

“Hey Lieutenant! Hiding anything interesting while we were waiting for the door?” greeted Nacht.

In the hall were two bat pony mares, one slightly taller and one shorter than average. The shorter one, Nacht, had a coat and hair of black, her body only slight lighter than her pitch-dark mane. Aside from her eyes, which were a rosy pink color, Nacht also had a few magic tattoos singed into her coat in the color of ash and the tips of her mane were dyed a variety of wild pastel colors to add some color to her body. They lent her some eye-catching variety, although as a tactical officer Dusk would have preferred the plain black for the camouflage.

The other pony was a drab purple in color, with a mane that was split between light and dark pink. Her eyes were bright red, although a closer look would reveal them to be bionic replacements. Her iris had layered striations like a camera shutter, and the pupils would occasionally pulse with light when something caught her attention.

“Can this wait? Like, until next evening? Or maybe never? Never’s good, too,” Dusk grumbled.

“Are you really going to just turn away two lovely mares who showed up at your front door?” Nacht asked, smirking.

“This probably can wait, though,” mumbled the other pony.

“No it can’t, be quiet Neuro,” Nacht quickly retorted, slapping her wing over the other mare’s mouth.

Neuron Dialect didn’t object, waiting silently until Nacht removed her wing. Where the smaller thestral was cheerful and mischievous, Neuron was subdued and deeply introverted. Some ponies – usually of other pony breeds – often mistook her quiet behavior for anxiety or apathy. Dusk knew better; Neuron had nerves of steel and could be quite intense when motivated, and he had a feeling that she was behind this encounter and not Nacht.

“Gloomy said you’ve been having weird dreams again,” Nacht said while stepping past Dusk into the room, uninvited. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Dusk said immediately.

“Okay. We’ve been having some funny dreams too, so we can talk about those instead.” Nacht sat down next to the coffee table and tapped the floor next to her.

Dusk growled, but he didn’t protest. “Fine. Neuro, get in here,” he commanded, gesturing with a wing. Neuron promptly slunk past him, her ears pinned. It was the only indication of her concern, but he took such subtle indicators seriously. Whatever this was about, she was worried.

“Oh! Is that Kilroy? I thought he died!” Nacht said brightly, watching the vid-screen on the wall while the other Lunar Guards took their seats around the table. The cultist anchor had finished with his interview and was now jabbing at a large vid-screen full of patrol deployments.

“Nah, he had medical leave for two weeks but he survived,” Dusk replied. “Well, that’s what the station says, anyway. I guess it could always be a clone, but do you really think anyone would bother to replace him?”

“A clone? Wait, the Company can CLONE people?” Nacht asked, alarmed.

“No, actually that’s a pony magic thing. But enough about CNN.” Dusk leaned forward, one foreleg on the table. “What’s this about? You don’t usually stop by for social visits.”

“We would if you didn’t always act so eager to get rid of us as soon as we’re off-duty,” Nacht retorted, pouting.

“No, I really prefer it this way. Now what do you want? Let’s move it along.”

“We’ve been having dreams,” Neuron said, her tone subdued. “Strange dreams. Like before. Playing clear as a holo-vid and perfectly memorized upon awaking. Often they feature places we’ve never seen and ponies we’ve never met, but the imagery leaves no doubt that they’re real.”

Dusk grimaced. “Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“I’ve been having them every night. A lot of variety to them, which is nice, I guess.” Nacht huffed. “I’ve kind of gotten used to them, honestly. But a few nights ago Neuro had one.”

Neuron Dialect nodded slightly. “Lieutenant… I dreamt about Banshee.”

“Well that’s somepony you’ve definitely met, so it’s not really as spooky, is it?” Dusk said, his voice tense.

“I talked to her,” Neuron continued. “She said-“

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dusk interrupted.

Neuron’s ear twitched. “… No?” Her expression didn’t shift much, although Nacht seemed taken aback by the comment.

“No. I don’t want to hear the conversations you had with a dead pony that may or may not be related to the stupid magic dreams I’m having,” Dusk growled. “I’ll be straight with you girls: I’m over the whole dark prophecy thing. I’m not doing it again! But whatever’s beaming weird, excessively detailed imagery into my brain while I sleep needs to cut it out, so if anypony has any bright ideas on how to find it and stop it that would be super. Did the pony ghost have any insights on that?”

Neuron looked down at the table, avoiding eye contact.

“I didn’t think so,” Dusk huffed. “Was there anything useful in any of these dreams, or are we done here?”

“Yeesh, you sure woke up on the wrong side of the stalactite this evening,” Nacht mumbled, her ears pinning back.

“I haven’t been getting the best sleep lately, as a matter of fact,” he griped, “but honestly the dreams are more annoying while I’m awake.”

The mares blinked.

“I’m constantly having images and dialogue from my dream running through my head during my waking hours,” Dusk confessed. “It’s driving me crazy! I can’t concentrate! I feel like I might go insane if this keeps up!”

“Perhaps it’s the influence of Chaos. It wasn’t quite like this when you had them before, in Canterlot,” Neuron pointed out.

“Decent theory. Maybe an extended patrol circuit outside the city would help,” the stallion mused.

Nacht and Neuron made eye contact briefly, and then the latter arched an eyebrow. Nacht grimaced and steeled herself.

“Okay, so… one of my dreams, I think, was about the future,” Nacht began. Her earlier mood of impish cheer was gone now, and her voice was nervous. “It was about us. Us three, plus Gloomy.”

Dusk didn’t interrupt, but his expression was quite scathing on its own.

“In the dream, we… we returned to the Vault of the Ancients. We were searching the wasteland together.”

“Why would we go back to the vault?” Dusk asked, tapping his hoof on the table surface in agitation.

“I think it was to find the last Element,” Nacht asked. “In the dream we made it there, but…”

“But what?” Dusk pressed impatiently.

“We were attacked. Or, I was, at least. Everything went dark and the dream ended.” Nacht looked away, grimacing. “The dream is still very clear, but the… well, actual imagery wasn’t. I think there was an explosion of some kind, and there was smoke everywhere. The sound was overwhelming and everyone was panicking. Then I woke up.”

“So it was a bad dream with a bad ending. So what?” Dusk asked.

“So what?! Are you serious, Dusk?!” Nacht barked, suddenly standing up with her front hooves on the table. “You can’t seriously think this is all just a big, empty coincidence! These visions MEAN something!”

“Of course they do,” Dusk agreed. “And I ask again: SO WHAT?” He got up and stood his own legs on the table, which left him almost a head taller than Nacht. “What do you want me to do, Nacht? What is the upshot of all of this? Do you want to journey into the badlands to make your deadly ambush a reality? Is that it?”

The black thestral grimaced, looking down at the table. “No, I guess I don’t. But… I just feel like we should DO something! Like last time.”

“Why? You know what happened last time,” Dusk was visibly angry now, his teeth bared and his amber eyes glowering. “You want to go through that again? FOR WHAT?!”

“The prophecy may yet be fulfilled,” Neuron answered.

Dusk’s wings shot up, his rage building further. He started sputtering in anger, but she didn’t let him interrupt.

“I know you despise it Lieutenant, but fate is calling to us. You ignore it, and it presses on your mind all the harder.” Neuron shook her head.

“There’s no such thing as fate,” Dusk spat through clenched teeth.

“You know that’s not true,” Neuron retorted calmly. “We live among thousands of ponies running on the leash of destiny every day, even if they don’t think of it like that. We’ve listened to tales of gods weaving and rending time and reality to fit mysterious purposes. We’ve seen precognition.”

“Not the same!” he shouted, slamming a hoof on the table. One of the dataslates was unsettled by the impact, and it slid off the edge and onto the floor.

Neuron Dialect pursed her lips, trying to decide on her words. “… Maybe prophecy is a lie. Maybe it’s some other kind of foresight disguised as divine vision. I want to find out. But we need you.”

“Need me to do WHAT?!” Dusk demanded angrily. “Lead you on another expedition to disappointment and misery? If you two believe in this prophecy garbage shouldn’t you be viewing all this as a warning and not an invitation?! You’re talking to dead mares and dreaming up futures where our squad gets jumped; why would you want to pursue that?!”

Neuron wilted, but Nacht was distracted. She was looking at the dataslate that had fallen off the coffee table, and her forehead creased in growing concern. She looked up at Dusk Blade, lifting the slate in her wing.

“Hey Lieutenant, are you planning a mission? What’s this for?”

“That’s classified, Nacht,” Dusk said without his angry and stubborn mood slipping one iota. “You shouldn’t be reading mission briefings you find lying around your superior’s room.”

Nacht arched an eyebrow. “This isn’t a mission briefing. It’s a patrol report. From the 11th Mech Infantry, looks like.”

Dusk scrunched up his muzzle. “I… I didn’t actually read that one yet,” he admitted, reaching his wing across the table and snatching away the dataslate. “What’s so interesting about it?”

“It said they were doing a follow-up on a scouting unit that went missing. A Sentinel and a Chimera. They found them. Everyone was KIA,” Nacht said.

She sounded fascinated, which Dusk thought was strange. They had all faced their fair share of grisly deaths and horrifying casualty reports among the Company’s human soldiers, and this didn’t seem to be remarkable by comparison. Dusk held up the dataslate and started scrolling through it.

“What’s weirder is that the vehicles weren’t badly damaged or taken. There was no clear projectile damage on any of the corpses. Definitely not an Ork attack!” Nacht said, nodding her head grimly.

Neuron cocked her head to the side, which the smaller mare interpreted as deep interest. “They recovered the bodies and the vehicles, but the corpses were totally shredded. I didn’t see where they found it though,” Nacht continued.

“It was in the badlands,” Dusk interjected, scrolling down further through the file. “Looks deep enough in that it could have been Keepers, I guess.”

“Would Keepers shred the infantry and crew and just leave the equipment?” Nacht asked.

“No idea. Guess we’ll never know,” the stallion mumbled, scrolling faster through the content as his boredom grew and his dreams threatened to creep back to the forefront of his mind. “Anyway, if you don’t-WHAT THE HAY?!?!”

The dataslate slipped from his wing and fell flat onto the table. Nacht and Neuron glanced at Dusk in surprise, and then down at the dataslate. Nacht’s eyes bulged, while Neuron’s eyes pulsed red and started rotating, suggesting that she was switching vision modes. All three bat ponies leaned in over the table to get a better look at the screen, which featured a pict-capture attached as part of the patrol’s report. The resolution was terrible, and the pict itself was rendered in low-light mode, displaying everything in crude patches of green.

Despite the abysmal quality, the thestrals were able to at least clearly identify the form of the subject. It was a bat pony, rearing up in front of the transport, its wings spread as if it was landing from a dive. It was very big for a thestral, perhaps even bigger than Empyra, and its hoof was aimed to punch into the front of the vehicle’s hull (to what effect, Dusk could not guess). The creature’s head was mostly obscured by a halo of light erupting from one or both of its eyes, making it impossible to discern any details around the face. However, it was possible to make out a curved, pointed protrusion coming from its forehead that was itself wrapped in a coil of visible light.

A horn. The bat pony had a unicorn horn.

The three soldiers were silent for several breathless seconds. Then Nacht suddenly gasped and slapped a hoof down on the table.

“Changeling! It’s gotta be a changeling!” she announced.

Neuron arched an eyebrow. “Those are bat wings…”

“A changeling can have any kind of wings it wants! It’s a shape-shifter! And what better way to ambush a Company patrol than to turn into one of their trusted pony allies?” the smaller mare reasoned.

“There are no pony allies that have bat wings and a horn, that doesn’t make sense,” Dusk shot back, picking up the dataslate again. “This is all wrong. The changelings are on our side now!”

Neuron arched her other eyebrow.

“… Kind of. They will be, I mean. If we ever let them out of the labs.” Dusk coughed and went back to studying the dataslate . “ANYWAY. I don’t think it’s changelings. But whatever it is, how come this is the first I’m hearing about it? Did the Company really uncover pict-captures of an actual bat alicorn and not even ask anypony about it?”

Nacht furrowed her brow. “What do you mean? They sent you this report, right? Isn’t that why you’re hearing about it now?”

Dusk didn’t answer, still reading the dataslate. Nacht’s confusion faded.

“You stole that dataslate, didn’t you?” the black thestral asked bluntly.

“Could we FOCUS, please?” Dusk griped, scanning back up to the top of the file to find the date stamp. “So this is… uh… stupid space calendars… I think this is from back during the changeling attack on Ferrous Dominus! No wonder this hasn’t been seen until now!”

The mares didn’t quite understand the significance of this, and Dusk groaned as he set the dataslate down. “Something like two thirds of the Company command died in that attack when the Tau turned on us, and they even killed the Warpsmith high lord. This report must have been submitted around the same time, and it was ignored in the aftermath. Everyone who knew about it before now is either dead or wouldn’t care.”

“So… you think it’s the real deal, then? A bat alicorn? A thestral Princess?” Nacht asked, her eyes widening in wonder. “We’ve gotta meet her!”

Neuron’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

“To find out what her deal is! Duh!” Nacht was standing up on the table now, her wings fluttering in excitement. “Is she another Nightmare? Or is she like the other alicorns that have an associated profile? Like how Cadence is the Princess of love and Celestia is the Princess of the sun and Twilight Sparkle is the Princess of… uh… violence, I guess.”

“The Princess of WHAT?” Dusk jolted upright, his wings spread straight out. “You take that back! She is NOT the Princess of violence!”

“She doesn’t have a profile really, but if I were to pick one for her it would be violence.”

“She would be a Princess of knowledge! Or wisdom!” Dusk retorted firmly.

“Yeah, sure, the knowledge and wisdom of how to rip the souls out of a thousand Orks at once,” Nacht snickered, “anyway I really want to meet this bat Princess! I’ll bet her profile is really hardcore, like the Princess of revenge or murder or something!”

“Speaking of murder: it’s a slight wrinkle that whoever this pony is it’s a hostile,” Dusk explained. “Not that I’m real sentimental over the human casualties, but there aren’t many ponies out there these days who would rip apart a Company squad without understanding who they were dealing with.”

“So what are you going to do? Give this over to the new garrison command so they can hunt her down?” Nacht quirked an eyebrow at that and crossed her forelegs over her chest.

“That WOULD be the smart thing to do, but I’d rather not. All the same, I really feel like we need to figure out who the hay this is.” Dusk sighed, reaching a wing up onto his head to massage his temples. “I guess that only leaves one option. I’m going to have to ask the Moon Mages.”

Ferrous Dominus
Sector 20 – sub-level B-9

The Lunar Guard seemed like a very baroque and mysterious leg of the 38th Company war machine, but Dusk Blade figured that was mostly a reflection of its physical characteristics. The Lunar Guard was composed of nocturnal creatures with an obscure cultural history led by the Princess that had been corrupted and imprisoned for a thousand years. Lunar Guard soldiers tended to be cagey and defensive, and were very different from the other ponies that populated Equestria in their mannerisms and their diet (Dusk believed eating insects and blood was a serious driver of mistrust, minor as it seemed). In Canterlot they were known as a shadowy cabal of enforcers who seemed to serve Princess Luna exclusively. In Ferrous Dominus they stood out less but also possessed a massive black tower that loomed above the rest of the city.

There were secrets within the Lunar Guard, of course. Dusk himself carried many. But the mystery of the bat ponies were dramatically overstated. Their cultural hoofprint was hollow because they had not been part of a productive society for generations, which incidentally also made them hesitant to trust others and far less cheerful than the average Equestrian. Overwhelmingly the bat ponies that had come to follow the purified Princess of the Night did so because she was willing to vouch for them as a race and it was the easiest path to joining a modern society where they didn’t struggle to survive.

The Moon Mages were… different.

“Ident-code registered. Access granted. Welcome, Lieutenant Blade.”

The vox caster above the door growled its cheery recorded greeting in the distinct tone of an Iron Warrior snarling into a vox recorder, and Dusk grimaced while the doors slowly yawned open. By now most of the recordings for automated messages had been changed to the pleasant, syrupy voice of Spice Sunrise, an earth pony singer who inexplicably left Manehattan make her living in the fortress city. Some still used the old vox packets, however, either because they found it funny or genuinely preferred the angry, static-laced growls.

The Moon Mages were the latter.

The hall beyond the doors was as strange as any you’d see outside of the temple district. Bones and charms hung from strings and chains suspended from the ceiling. The walls were painted with messy glyphs in a luminescent yellow material, mostly featuring moons and stars. The paint was almost certainly radioactive, and Dusk took a moment to put on his respirator mask before he ventured inside.

After he stepped a few feet inside, the vox caster above crackled to life again. This time, however, the voice that emerged was very different.

“Why, Lieutenant! What a wonderful surprise! Here, let me make you more at home!”

The doors slammed shut behind Dusk, and the lumens switched off. The hall was cast in darkness, illuminated only by the strange paint on the walls.

“So, my precious little bat… are you here for business… or pleasure?”

Dusk felt his hair stand up along his neck at the question. The voice was sweet and cloying, and such a tone was not at all enhanced by the distortion of the vox system.

“Business,” Dusk responded firmly before trotting forward.

A sigh came from the vox caster above. “You NEVER choose pleasure,” the voice griped.

“You run a magic cult, not a red light district,” the stallion barked back, already extremely annoyed.

The dreams were already back, tugging at his attention. The last time he had fallen asleep had featured a new addition to the saga, albeit a short one without any meaningful imagery. The argument the dream had exposed to him seemed to echo that much louder here; as it should, he supposed. Why wouldn’t the debates of ancient Moon Mages be on his mind while he consulted their descendants?

Reaching the end of the hall, Dusk was presented with three sets of blast doors, each one carved with a relief of daemonic faces. None of them opened at his presence, and there weren’t any obvious mechanisms around with which to open them manually. This was not a place in which others were free to wander.

The door to the left beeped, and then unlocked. The barrier yawned open, and light seep into the hall from the opening. Dusk Blade stood there in front of the opening, staring into the next room.

And why should we give them hope? Do you think they deserve it?!

Dusk growled, baring his fangs.

“Did I do something wrong, Lieutenant? That’s a rather scary face you’re making.”

Dusk Blade quickly schooled his features. He had completely zoned out for a moment, and was standing in the doorway while glaring at nothing. Taking another few steps to get inside, the door closed behind him and he took stock of the room.

There was a round table in the middle that hosted an array of candles, cards, and scrolls. Around the table were three unicorn mares seated on colorful plush pillows decorated with beads and charms. Two of them were young; barely teenagers. The third was an older mare, although she was hardly elderly. She wore fine silks that wrapped around her body, and a silver circlet was perched on her head. A pair of wire-rim glasses of the same material sat on her snout, which clashed somewhat with the tarnished iron amulet bearing the Star of Chaos that hung around her neck. A polished copper pipe was clenched between her teeth, leaking a wisp of smoke up into the air; he didn’t recognize the smell, but it was different from the herb she had been smoking the last time he was here.

“Welcome Lieutenant! Welcome!” the older mare said, grinning happily. “Young ones, that will be all for today’s lessons. Me and Mister Blade have much to discuss!”

The younger unicorns quickly stood up and gathered their things, each of them sneaking coy glances at the stallion on their way out. Dusk Blade ignored them, walking up to the table and taking off his saddlebags. Soon they had vanished into an adjacent room, the doors sealing shut behind them.

“Good evening, Miss Shard. I was advised by my colleagues to consult you,” Dusk said evenly, sitting down on the cushion opposite the Moon Mage.

“Please Lieutenant, call me Penny,” requested Penumbra Shard.

“No,” Dusk said flatly.

“Are we already done with polite niceties? You just got here,” Penumbra pouted.

“I haven’t been having a great week, and I’m not expecting this visit to make it better,” Dusk grunted. “Let me cut right to the chase: have you ever heard of a bat pony alicorn?”

Penumbra cocked her head to the side, taking a few quick puffs from her pipe. “You mean a bat pony becoming an alicorn? As Princess Sparkle ascended from a unicorn?”

“Close, but not quite,” Dusk clarified. “I mean an alicorn with bat wings. Or a bat pony with a horn, I guess.”

“Ah, that is different. Or maybe that’s the form a thestral like yourself would take if you were granted that power,” Penumbra mused. “We don’t know, as our history – and therefore yours – doesn’t contain a bat alicorn. Baticorn? Hm. Might have to workshop that a little.”

Dusk frowned as she continued. “There are stories of that kind, of course; myths and fairy tales to lull children to sleep within the damp recesses of the caverns. Dreams of thestrals spontaneously obtaining the power to challenge Canterlot or rescue Nightmare Moon from her imprisonment. Stories of heroes arising from the depths, usually told by word of mouth for want of writing materials or scribes.” Penumbra shook her head. “All fiction. There has never been a thestral that ascended.”

“You’re sure?” Dusk pressed. “The Moon Mages spent a thousand years trying to cook up magic powerful enough to challenge Equestria while Nightmare Moon was imprisoned. It never occurred to you guys to try and turn us thestrals into super-ponies?”

“Well of course it did. We pursued that and a hundred other desperate and unlikely ideas. But no, we never uncovered the secrets of the alicorns, much less how to create them ourselves. Nothing but dead ends and wasted lives.”

“Practically the order’s motto,” Dusk interjected.

The Mage twitched in annoyance, but quickly continued. “We did have some successes, as you’re quite aware, but our research on alicorns wasn’t one of them. The closest we got to anything useful – and it wasn’t very close – was the blasted alicorn amulet.” A thick puff of smoke came from her pipe as she huffed irritably.

“Oh yeah, whatever happened to that thing?”

“Astra Lumines lost it in a card game two hundred years ago,” Penumbra sighed miserably. “For the most part I say good riddance, but it’s obviously another black mark on our order that half our weapons have been lost or stolen away over the millennium.”

“But no chance this is one of them, huh?” Dusk asked, withdrawing a dataslate from his bag and sliding it across the table.

Penumbra blinked, taking the pipe out of her mouth while she stared at the pict-capture. “……… Well. That’s new.”

“And you and your cult had nothing to do with it, huh?” Dusk asked flatly.

“No, we did not.” Penumbra levitated the dataslate closer, and then touched a hoof against it to scroll up to the attached text. “Hmm. Attacked a Company patrol? That’s not good.”

“Yeah that part’s gonna be a problem,” Dusk sighed. “It’s got human blood on its hooves. If we take this to the officers then they’re going to want it dead or in a Mechanicus vivasection pod.”

The Moon Mage blinked. One of her eyebrows arched higher. “Take it to the officers? This is a recon report. YOU’RE an officer. What are you talking about? Aren’t you investigating this creature to complete a termination order?”

Dusk coughed into his hoof. “Due to extraordinary circumstances, most of the 38th leadership isn’t aware of this report. Or… any of the leadership, probably. I’m still working out what to do about it.”

“Wait, then how did YOU get it? None of the people marked on this file are involved with the Lunar Guard.”

“I have my sources.”

“So you stole it.”

“Shut up Shard.”

Penumbra snorted and put her pipe back in her mouth. “Well, aside from not having the slightest clue where this Princess came from or who it is, I also have no idea why it would be attacking Company troops. Equine-kind is on very good terms with the humans, obviously. That’s why we’re here now.”

“Right, but there are still bat ponies out there that haven’t returned to Equestria,” Dusk pointed out. “Not many, but is it possible that a hidden enclave of Moon Mages have a new plot to take down Equestria?”

“No,” Penumbra said flatly. “It is not possible. Me and my sisters are the last of the cult, and we all live here now, training the next generation of battle magi and diviners for the forces of Chaos. It’s all we can do, really.” She snorted again, puffing her pipe. “The ancient dream of usurping the sun is dead, twice over. First they purified the Nightmare and took her away from us. And then, when the forces of darkness descended from the very stars on mighty chariots of steel, carrying the will of the Dark Gods with them, Equestria co-opted them as well.”

The Moon Mage took a deep drag on her pipe, and then released the smoke with a weary sigh. “If there were, hypothetically, some band of hidden Moon Mages that discovered something so monumental, I can’t imagine what they would hope to accomplish by making an enemy out of Chaos. I would expect they’d bypass the Company entirely and make war on Equestria.”

“Is that what you’d do in their place?” Dusk asked.

“If I were in their place I’d be hunting greenskins or maybe preying on the grays,” Penumbra replied, clicking her tongue. “The Moon Mages and what’s left of the thestral tribes have surrendered our old grudges and now work to combat a greater threat.”

“Sure we did, after your last ploy failed,” Dusk grumbled.

“Yes, yes, I know. Our bond with Chaos and the Company is a result of weakness, not conviction. We are just ponies after all, and it’s a big, scary galaxy out there.” She chuckled and slid the dataslate back across the table. “This baticorn doesn’t change that calculus. Ugh, that really is a terrible name.”

Dusk Blade stood up and took the dataslate with his wing, slipping it back into his saddlebag. “Well, thanks for absolutely nothing, Shard. Guess we’re done here.”

“Oh, I don’t think we’re done just yet,” Penumbra Shard replied, grinning. “Isn’t there something else you wanted to ask me? Something more… personal?”

“Are you hitting on me again?” the stallion asked defensively, his ears flipping down.

“No, not this time,” Penumbra said, her voice clearly regretful of the fact. “Private Gloom Fang visited me yesterday.”

Dusk frowned. “I take it he was also not here to make out with you.”

“Obviously,” Penumbra said wryly. “He spoke of his troubled dreams, as well as those of the rest of you.”

“What?!” Dusk recoiled slightly, and then scowled. “He said he didn’t have any dreams!”

“He lied,” the unicorn said flatly. “And I, in turn, lied that I would not tell you or the mares of his troubled visions.” She chuckled around the pipe in her teeth. “You’ve all been having the dreams. Vivid memories that are not your own.”

Dusk reluctantly sat back down, looking somewhat defeated. He didn‘t really want to have to discuss this, but at this point it would be foolish not to hear her out. “Okay, fine. Lay it on me. What’s going on with these dreams and how can we get them to stop?”

“There are two likely possibilities. One is that the threads of-“

“If you say ‘threads of fate’ and then start going on about your stupid fake prophecies I WILL flip this table over and flatten you with it,” Dusk interrupted, his eyes narrowed to slits.

Penumbra pursed her lips, and beads of sweat started appearing on her face. “Okay… well the OTHER possibility is that the Element itself is calling to you.”

Dusk’s ears pinned back, and he grimaced.

“The Warp storms that constantly surround our planet has leant great power to stray artifacts and magic constructs that lay hidden across the world. That power does not rest easily, and demands release. The Element is not really sentient, of course, so it seeds your sleeping hours with echoes of the past that it carries imprinted upon its creation.” Penumbra tapped her pipe on the edge of an ash tray to empty its smoldering remains and then set it there. “That’s my theory, anyway. Ferrous Dominus being what it is, the veil between realms is thin and frequently pierced by questionable magics, so it may reach you more easily here too. If you want a more sophisticated scrying, I can tell you more. For a price.” She grinned.

“And what would that price be?” Dusk asked, sounding doubtful.

“I want you, my precious bat,” Penumbra said, her tone turning sultry.

A telekinesis field took hold of the mask under Dusk’s chin and slowly pulled it forward across the table. Penumbra got up and stood her front legs on the table, her horn pulsing in tune with her heartbeat.

“Take a tour of my bedchambers, Lieutenant, and I will give you all the knowledge you require,” she cooed, lifting a hoof aside her head and throwing back her mane.

“No,” Dusk said flatly. He took his mask between his hooves and yanked it back, breaking the magic hold on it. Then he placed it over his snout and started to secure it in preparation to leave.

“Don’t be so shy,” Penumbra said, stepping up onto the table and walking toward the stallion. Her hips and tail swung with every step, and her tongue emerged and slid over her lips. Her horn lit up with a pale turquoise halo, and threads of similarly colored magical energy started snaking through the air toward Dusk.

Dusk took a deep breath, a sharp hiss coming from his respirator mask before he shifted his expression fully into a glare. “Shard, if you don’t knock it off I WILL write you up and you’re going to be taking the regiment’s sexual harassment training again.”

Penumbra Shard froze in place and her muzzle scrunched up. Then the glow of her horn faded away and the magical ribbons vanished.

“So it’s the Element, huh? Fine. I can work with that.” Dusk Blade stood up from his pillow and stretched out his wings.

“Okay, maybe I came on a little strong. My fault,” Penumbra said anxiously. “How about a kiss? One kiss! A hug, maybe? Second base, that’s all I ask!”

“Open the door, Shard.”

The unicorn slumped, and then climbed down off the table while her horn glowed again. Dusk didn’t see precisely what the magic did, but after a few seconds the door to the hall slid open again. Penumbra Shard looked away and crossed her forelegs with a sour expression.

“Why does an evil space army even HAVE a sexual harassment policy?” she griped.

“I asked the Colonel about that, actually! They said it’s good for catching Slaanesh cultists. He wouldn’t explain what that is, but the humans are REALLY nervous about the Iron Warriors finding any before they do.” Dusk stepped out into the darkened hall, leaving the Moon Mage behind. “Goodbye, Shard.”

They lock her up beneath the tower and they only send fillies for magic instruction it's torture a mare's got NEEDS

Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 2
Preparations

Ferrous Dominus sector 20
Regiment hall

Rain beat down on the armorglass windows, punctuated by the occasional crack of thunder. Night had fallen yet again and the lumens of Ferrous Dominus glittered across the fortress city, distorted as they were from the storm. Occasional bellows from vox systems announced train schedules or warned against exposure to the rainfall; substantial acidic fluid and heavy toxins were routinely part of the weather, as any resident knew.

Within the halls of Nightwatch, bat ponies lined up in ranks in full combat gear. Most of the thestral soldiers wore a MkIII equine combat suit; a light armor mesh that was combined with a few key plates and covered by tough, leathery fabrics that could have been mistaken for normal outerwear. The suit protected from penetration and helped absorb intense heat but did little to deflect or block impacts. The benefit was that it weighed little and made little noise during rapid movement, allowing for maximum stealth and aerial mobility.

Other ponies, including Dusk Blade himself, wore the older MkII equine armor, a suit of ceramic plates mostly recycled from Tau equipment. The armor was much more effective, but also much heavier, and some ponies couldn’t fly easily while wearing it. Rows of black splinter rifles, the alien weapon adopted by the Lunar Guard, stood next to most of the soldiers in their ballistic braces, but there was a block in the middle that carried more elaborate weapons.

The echo cannons were strange, baroque constructions; tubes with weird carvings on the mouth to look like the jaws of daemons or the grille of a large vox caster. They were riddled with strange devices and had long cables that wound back into the user’s armor, connecting the gun to battery packs. The cannons were surprisingly lightweight but still quite cumbersome, and also required the heavier MkII armor to integrate the weapon and protect its battery.

Dusk spotted Nacht, who was almost completely obscured by the pair of big stallions on either side of her. The neon highlights of her mane and the shock orange face mask let her stand out among the rows of gray, blue, and purple heads, but frankly it was easier for his echolocation to just pick out the smallest pony in the heavy weapons group. Her cannon was strapped onto her back between her wings, and from the sight of her it was hard to imagine the mare could fly at all with all the wargear clamped onto her body.

Neuron Dialect was on the opposite side of the hall, standing stock still with her head down. She was wearing the lighter MkIII armor, with a ragged hood added on top of the suit. In one wing, butt placed on the floor and barrel aimed straight up, she held an ornate long gun that was very different from the twisted, blade-tipped rifles that most of the other ponies had.

Dusk detected something approaching from above. Many somethings. He twisted his head around to watch as several more bat ponies entered from hatches in the ceiling, flying onto the awning perches that hung over each side of the hall. These soldiers all wore the heavier MkII suits, and they all carried personal combat blades along with the rest of their armament. Most distinctively, however, these thestrals all had colorful, unique markers painted onto their flank plating, and every one of them was female.

Bloodborne.

“Ah, I see the Queen decides to grace us with her presence,” Midnight Blaze mumbled while standing next to Dusk. “She didn’t show up for the last inspection. I guess she got a talking to.”

Empyra, the self-styled Queen of the Bloodborne, swooped down to land in the middle of the row of armored mares. She was considerably larger than the ponies around her, especially in wingspan, and the other mares quickly shifted to make room, with a few simply jumping off into the air to clear out and find a different spot. She wore no armor herself, but possessed a night-black magical cloak and a necklace of Ork teeth. Dusk doubted she took them from Orks she had personally killed, but it was hardly outside the realm of possibility. While her humiliating loss to a single human mercenary was well-known, and she wasn’t organized into a combat unit herself, she was rumored to be a terrifying opponent with an array of strange powers.

Empyra started scanning the ranks below, and for a brief moment she and Dusk made eye contact. The Queen’s gaze lingered uncertainly but then broke away, studying the other thestrals. Dusk finally looked away several seconds after she did.

Across the room from him, staring straight forward among another row of Lunar Guard, was Gloom Fang. Like Dusk he had the more common Lunar Guard armament and wore the heavier MkII armor, complete with a pair of adamantium talons on his boots. Dusk made eye contact only briefly, and the purple stallion immediately winked back.

The doors to the hall yawned open.

“ATTEN-SHUN!!” Midnight barked, staring straight ahead. The ponies that weren’t already similarly posed quickly moved to copy her. The Bloodborne stopped milling about and stood up straight, shoulder-to-shoulder. Even Empyra adjusted her poise, although she continued to study the hall below her.

A hoof clad in charcoal black armor stepped onto the deck, and Princess Luna entered the hall. She wore her full suit of armor along with the helmet, but soon after entering the helmet disengaged. The plating broke apart into tiny hexagons of metal that each then slid down into the gorget to form a disordered morass of black and gold shards. It was an utterly bizarre – and as far as Dusk could tell, totally unique – mechanism, and it fascinated him each time he saw it.

Walking beside the Lunar Princess was General Harlin. An old man by Chaos standards, his face was weathered and scarred, with one eye replaced with a bionic peripheral that was extended over about a quarter of his head. The other side of his face was scrawled with odd tattoos, including the obligatory eight-pointed star.

“GOOD EVENING, LEGION OF THE NIGHT!!” Luna shouted while she advanced, immediately causing a wave of cringing bats among the ranks. “THIS IS TO BE THY-“

Harlin cleared his throat loudly, interrupting her. Luna glanced over to him, and the man shook his head firmly with an irritated expression.

“Ah, it seems the good General shalt handle thy briefing then. Very well.” Luna seemed somewhat disappointed, but she relented.

“I will dispense with the pleasantries and move on to the strategic outlook,” Harlin said, slowly walking down the hall with Luna by his side. “As many of you know, we have engaged in multiple skirmishes with a new enemy in the western badlands. These… Keepers are still a mystery in many respects, the most important of which being where they nest and manufacture their weapons.”

Harlin stopped walking and craned his neck up, staring straight at Empyra. “We have deployed many probes and regional augurs to aid us, but almost all of them have been destroyed and salvaged, thanks to our OLD enemy: the Orks.”

Hisses and grumbles came from many of the thestrals, and even Dusk found it in him to offer an irritated sneer. Although the Ork presence within Equestria had been purged, the warmongering aliens had quickly spread to nearly every other corner of the continent, and perhaps the entire world. They were a constant, permanent threat now, and it was only through constant skirmishes and extermination raids that they would be stopped from amassing an army that could overwhelm the rest of the planet.

“Numerous warbands were pushed into the badlands after the battle of Ponyville. The environment is hostile and resources sparse, which means that the xeno thugs are thriving, of course. Our recent activity in the area has brought even more, as the Orks who retreated from our armies before regroup and seek out the next battle. Camps and nomadic raiders have propagated rapidly throughout the region, and any strike force or patrol is at serious risk of being encircled.”

“At our request, the Company hast granted this next task to us!” Luna announced, apparently unable to keep her excitement to herself. “Upon the morrow, once We raise the moon, our army shalt take to the wastes under cover of darkness!”

“This is a reconnaissance operation, not an assault,” Harlin continued, giving the Princess an annoyed frown. “While we have the assets for a major deployment, the fleet possesses most of our aerial units and frequent dust storms obscure our orbital scopes, so we will use Equestrians to find the enemy’s camps and patrols. Your units will be split into small deployments and sent on long routes through the hostile zone to locate outposts and assets for bombardment and assault later. The identification of barracks, vehicle manufactures, and munitions stockpiles are a priority.”

“We are to seek out the enemy, yet not slay them?” Empyra suddenly leapt from her perch, spreading her wings and swooping down to land in front of Luna and Harlin. “Why do you not simply send your tanks and soldiers to follow us? We should attack together, immediately, while they are unaware and vulnerable!”

Luna frowned, but General Harlin replied calmly. “We do not know if and where they are vulnerable, which is why we require your aid, Queen.” Harlin approached the mare while she glared at him. “You may engage the foe at your discretion should you find a sufficiently ripe target, and we will have beacons available for you to request artillery support. But this is not an assault mission and I advise against rushing into the teeth of an Ork warband.”

Empyra snorted, walking around the General while glaring up at him. “I dislike how we were forced into this alliance under the premise of creating a unified front that could vanquish these wretched aliens, yet we are constantly asked to perform petty tasks far away from the support of your mutated super-soldiers and monstrous war machines. Yes, we are spared the harshest fighting, but we are also denied the highest glories,” she complained.

Harlin smirked, reaching out and petting the thestral queen atop her head. She flinched at the contact, and a flush crossed her cheeks when he started to rub her head.

“You are a formidable lot, and I respect your battle lust, Queen. Perhaps a more dangerous assignment can be arranged if you wish to challenge your warriors. And if the presence of our machines brings you comfort, you will have the support of a few Strider packs during this mission, meager as they are.” He shifted his hand to scratch her behind the ears, and a slight quiver rolled through her body. “But for now, I ask that you leave the strategy to us. Orks are to be fought with superior tactics and technical efficiency, not raw valor.”

Empyra started to nod reluctantly, and then heard a stifled giggle coming from behind her. Suddenly realizing what she must look like, she twisted her head around, biting at Harlin’s hand. The General pulled his arm back just in time, her jaws snapping shut bare millimeters from his fingers.

“Now then, we shall proceed with inspection,” Harlin announced, clasping his hands behind his back and walking forward as if nothing had happened. “Once complete, your squad leads will join us in the strategium for assignment.”

Princess Luna arched an eyebrow at Empyra, who scowled and turned away with her cheeks burning red enough to see through her coat. “If thou art finished, ‘Queen,’ is this the attire thou wouldst don to face the alien hordes? How bold!” From her expression one could tell she was less than impressed, despite her words.

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of bumming around the fleet’s Warsmith until he makes us some toys to get rid of us,” Empyra sneered back. “You don’t have to worry about me, Princess.”

“How could I not? After thy humiliation in single combat by a human, to face the greenskin hordes-“

“I WAS HAVING AN OFF NIGHT AND HADN’T FOUGHT IN THE ARENA FOR YEARS OKAY HE GOT LUCKY!!”

General Harlin ignored the mares arguing behind him and walked stiffly through the hall, his eyes darting back and forth. The thestrals stared back at him with cold glares and irritated sneers wherever faces could be seen instead of respirator masks and multi-spectrum visors. The humans were not terribly popular among the bat ponies; while the equines held some respect for the mercenary soldiers and treated the Iron Warriors with enough strict deference to avoid getting ventilated by bolter fire, the human officers were widely resented. The other humans that labored in the fleet – from the exhausted menials to the mysterious Dark Techpriests – were mostly treated as servants, with polite indifference so far as their labors were useful. Such an attitude toward the workers was easily accepted by the 38th Company, given that most of the sapiens felt the exact same way.

Harlin stopped in front of Neuron Dialect, tilting his head to the side. Neuron didn’t look up at him, still staring directly ahead with her eyes hidden by her hood. A few of the nearby thestrals tensed, wondering if they too would be subjected to the strange and humiliating habit that humans had of stroking ponies’ manes and ears uninvited. Neuron Dialect didn’t react in such a way, giving no recognition at all of the man’s presence.

“Present arms,” Harlin commanded, turning toward the purple mare.

Neuron’s ears twitched. Then she flipped up her rifle into her wing, wrapping it around the barrel and holding it out toward the General, stock-first.

Harlin wordlessly took the weapon and held it up parallel to the ground. It had the look of an antique hunting rifle, with a stock and body of polished wood. The frame was an ornately crafted silvery alloy with a revolving ammunition cylinder and brass fittings. It looked completely unfamiliar to most of the bat ponies, including those who knew the rest of the armory quite well.

“This is a galvanic rifle,” Harlin announced, rolling the cylinder open and checking the ammunition. “How did you acquire this?”

“The previous owner didn’t need it anymore,” Neuron replied, still staring straight forward.

Harlin’s lip twitched into a smirk. The property of fallen soldiers technically belonged to the Company’s armory of course, but the 38th Company was, in the end, a pirate fleet; looting the dead was second nature and only punished in special circumstances. This didn’t sit as well with the Dark Mechanicus, who were doubtless the division previously in possession of this particular gun and frequently objected to their more exotic weaponry falling into “lesser” hands. As far as Harlin was concerned, if they couldn’t keep their tools secure from mere ponies then the equines probably deserved them more.

“I see you don’t have a ballistic brace. Can you fire this weapon without it?” Harlin asked, holding the rifle out for Neuron to pick up again. The gun had not been modified in any apparent way to accommodate non-humans, which meant it retained an ordinary trigger under a small metal guard. Quite inaccessible to hooves. It also lacked a scope of any sort, or even simple iron sights.

“Yes,” Neuron Dialect replied, placing her front hooves under the rifle to take it back. She still didn’t make eye contact, her upper face shrouded by the hood.

Harlin turned around to face the other side of the room and approached the tallest stallion in the front row. “Remain still,” he ordered, removing a water canister from his belt.

The stallion arched a brow as Harlin placed the canister on top of his head, settling it between his ears. “What is this?”

General Harlin turned back around to address Neuron. “Show me.”

“WHAT IS THIS?!” the bat pony asked again, this time with much more urgency.

Neuron Dialect flipped the rifle around in her hooves, lifting the barrel with one foreleg to aim while using the other to hold the stock against her shoulder. Then her wing wrapped around under her foreleg and slipped the finger on the peak behind the trigger guard, giving the trigger a firm squeeze. The entire process took barely a second, so quick that most of the observers missed the brief red glow of her bionic eyes under her hood.

The galvanic rifle fired, emitting a blue flash and a fierce crack from the muzzle. The stallion yelped as the canister on his head was ripped in half by the gunshot, spilling water over his head. The thestrals next to him flinched away but quickly reigned in their sense of alarm as it became clear that no one had been hurt.

“Superb,” General Harlin said, withdrawing a cloth and dropping it on the soaked stallion’s head. “As you were.” Then he continued walking down the line.

Harlin walked by Dusk Blade without a lingering glance, performing the rest of the inspection without interruption or distraction. Luna and Empyra followed him at a sedate pace, with the former looking over her troops with pride and approval and the latter with grim contempt. Dusk’s attention lapsed, and soon his thoughts were consumed by the mysterious dark glade and bat ponies long dead.

Eventually General Harlin reached the end of the hall and he turned around. “Tactical officers are to proceed to the strategium for route assignment. The rest of you are dismissed, although you will be expected to review the terrain of your patrol area before sunrise. That will be all.” Then he straightened and shouted, “IRON WITHIN!”

“IRON WITHOUT!!!” Luna added excitedly, her flight pack spreading as she bellowed the words loudly enough to send the nearest bat ponies reeling.

Absolutely no one else in the hall joined her chant, and the other thestrals started breaking ranks and moving to leave. Luna looked somewhat embarrassed at the lack of reaction, with her cheeks puffing up while she looked back and forth at the Lunar Guard. Harlin took it in stride and headed for the tower exit.

“And here we go again,” Midnight grumbled while she and Dusk headed for the stairs. “Another night, another sortie, another handful of green freaks sent to oblivion. Sometimes I think it’ll never end.”

“It’ll never end,” Dusk assured her. “Well, that’s not totally true. If we screw up then the aliens kill us all and it will end that way. But this world is never going to be free of the Orks again. And I really doubt they’ll be the last alien threat that Equestria has to take down either, Warp storm or no.”

“Well aren’t you just a regular ray of moonlight,” the other Lieutenant griped.

Dusk smiled. “We’re not going to screw up, Blaze. Now then… what’s the wager going to be this time? Body count? Most greenskins put in the ground wins?”

“Nah, I don’t want to encourage anything stupid,” Midnight replied. “And the most assets identified would rely on mostly luck… how about speed? Last squad back to the line after completing their route owes the winner a round of drinks and will cover their cleaning duties for a week.”

“It’s a bet!” Dusk laughed. “C’mon, let’s go see what we’re working with.”

Ferrous Dominus sector 20
Residency hall C-6

The images from the dream were coming stronger than ever as Dusk returned to the upper levels of Nightwatch with a new dataslate under one wing. Many bat ponies were gathered here, either discussing their assigned patrol routes or talking with other soldiers about other things. The conversations surrounded him but failed to penetrate his attention; Dusk Blade’s eyes seemed to gaze into nowhere as he weaved between the groups of other thestrals.

“Lieutenant. Over here.”

The Tree of Turmoil loomed large in his imagination in this particular replay of his dream. It was a pathetic thing, quivering under the weight of its own power while its life force rapidly burned away. Merely a vessel of the Moon Mages’ rituals, it was created and sustained in a state of rotting near-death and then discarded like a used scrap of paper. What kind of magic seethed at the heart of such a thing, that even in such a state it could consume nightmares? What sort of things could the Tree of Harmony do, then?

“Lieutenant! Hey! Lieutenant Blade!”

The memory of the tree pulsed, bulging and receding like a beating heart. Bright crimson veins ran through the bark like arteries of lava. The flowers – those wretched, wilting blossoms that birthed calamity into the world in some kind of vile parody of floral life – bulged and inflated like balloons.

“Banzai!”

Dusk could almost hear something… underneath the monologue from the Moon Mage, like a whisper meant just for him. He narrowed his eyes and pinned his ears back, and the tree loomed closer in his mind’s eye.

Then Nacht landed on his back.

“Gah! Hey!” Dusk staggered from the unexpected weight but caught himself, managing to remain upright.

Nacht laughed and hopped off of him, her echo cannon bouncing on her back when she landed. “Time to wake up, Lieutenant! Did you get the briefing?”

“Yeah, as long as you didn’t step on it,” Dusk grumbled.

“This way! We’re waiting for you here!” Nacht trotted off toward her room, racing around the other bat ponies meandering in the hallway.

Dusk Blade felt a bit of unease but shook it off when he couldn’t discern a reason. He followed Nacht into her room, and then the door slid shut behind him.

“Make yourself at home, Lieutenant!” Nacht chirped, lifting off her echo cannon to place in her storage locker.

Nacht’s room was plastered over with colorful posters on the walls, almost all of them belonging to musicians and music bands. Her cogitator had been built into a large sound system, with cables running out of the casing to speaker towers that made Dusk cringe when he imagined the kind of volume they were capable of. On the other side of the room was her bed and a bookcase that was being used mainly to store bottles of neon mane dye.

In the middle of the room was Neuron Dialect and Gloom Fang. Dusk grimaced. He was pretty sure he knew what was going on already.

“Nacht, where’s the rest of the squad?” the Lunar Lieutenant said, glaring at the night-black mare.

“They don’t need to hear this,” Gloom Fang said. “Lieutenant… No. Dusk. Dusk, we have to go back.”

Dusk’s eye twitched. “Stick to Lieutenant, Gloomy. Also: It turns out our recon route doesn’t run through the cave labyrinth under the badlands, so no, we will not be ‘going back.’ Maybe next time.”

“Dusk, please, be serious,” the other stallion said, his ears pinning back.

“Okay, then I withdraw my joke about possibly agreeing next time. Not gonna fanging happen.”

Neuron Dialect shook her head. “Please, Dusk. Hear us out.”

“Why? Why do you need to waste half an hour of my time before I say no and shout at you all to go study the patrol charts?” Dusk demanded, a vein popping up on his head. “Why must you torment me first with more of your nonsense about fate and prophecy and the rantings of dead unicorns? I think it would be better for all of us if you didn’t!”

“Dusk, come on,” Nacht said, her voice uncharacteristically shaky. “We’re not asking you this lightly.”

“Aren’t you?! You all had some dreams – some of which, by the way, involve us DYING for pursuing them – and now you’re ready to desert and run off to a magic hole in the ground that isn’t even accessible anymore. That seems pretty light to me! And for what?!”

“The Element of Terror,” Gloom said without hesitation.

“We can’t GET the Element of Terror,” Dusk spat back, his anger visibly building. “And if we COULD, so what?! What would we do with it?! Are YOU gonna take it?!”

Gloom recoiled slightly. “Well, uh… maybe? I was thinking we could cut it up into four pieces actually, and then we could all-“

“THAT’S NOT HOW DARK MAGIC WORKS, NUMBSKULL!!” Dusk screamed in the other stallion’s face, his voice reaching a intense shriek. Gloom Fang cringed away, properly cowed, but Dusk quickly slapped his wings over his own mouth in recognition of his error.

Nacht shook her head. “Don’t worry about eavesdroppers. The walls on my unit are completely soundproof.” She kicked the nearest wall, and even the bat ponies’ sensitive ears struggled to pick up the thump of the impact. It was unclear what material the room was shielded with, but it wasn’t the usual metal construction.

“Convenient! Now I can feel free to shout ‘no’ over and over again rather than whispering. Thank you, Nacht,” Dusk said. “So! Are we done here?”

“Dusk-“ Gloom Fang began again, only to suddenly have the other stallion in his face again.

“That is ‘Lieutenant’ or ‘Sir’ to you, Corporal,” Dusk warned, his amber eyes seeming to glow threateningly. “The next time you call me ‘Dusk’ you lose a fang. That goes for ALL of you! Understood?”

The other thestrals nodded rapidly, stiffening their stances. Nacht and Gloom looked cowed by the command and clearly didn’t want to continue this encounter. Neuron Dialect, however, wasn’t ready to give up.

“Lieutenant,” she began, her voice cool and firm, “I believe it is necessary for us to pursue the Element, even at the risk of our careers here in the Company. There’s more at stake than we realized.”

“Oh? What’s at stake then?” Dusk asked.

“The future of Equestria,” Neuron answered.

“Really,” Dusk answered, clearly unconvinced.

Neuron looked over to Gloom, and then nudged her head. “Tell him.”

Gloom Fang wet his lips in preparation, clearly anxious. “So, uh… you know how you’ve all been having the weird magic dreams? Well… I actually had one too.”

“You told me you didn’t,” Dusk retorted acidly.

The other stallion cringed again, staring at the floor. “Well… uh, yeah. I did say that. The dream seemed so crazy that I didn’t think it made sense, so I kind of brushed it off. But now…” he took a deep breath. “Okay, so… in my dream, there was this… this creature. An alicorn. Except it had bat wings.”

Dusk flinched. Gloom noticed.

“Yeah. Sounds ridiculous, right? There’s no such thing,” he chuckled weakly. “And then Nacht, um… told me that it was real.”

Dusk shot a glare at the shortest thestral, and she smiled back nervously. “Nacht, why are you telling other ponies about the baticorn?”

“It was just Gloomy, I swear!” Nacht replied, waving a hoof in front of her. “I had to trade him a secret to get him to spill his dream! That’s all! Just us!”

“‘Baticorn?’ We’re not really calling it that, are we?” Gloom Fang asked. “That’s a terrible name.”

Neuron shrugged. “Continue,” she ordered.

“R-Right. Anyway.” Gloom Fang took a deep breath. “So the… baticorn is there, in the Vault of the Ancients. And it takes the Element of Terror. And eats it.”

“How did it get there?” Dusk demanded. “How did it get to the Element when we couldn’t?”

“I don’t know; that wasn’t part of the dream.” Gloom shifted uncomfortably before he continued. “I couldn’t make out much of the pony. The entire time it was surrounded by this weird shroud. But I could make out its form, and saw that its left eye glowed constantly, like… like something was shining a light from the socket, I dunno.”

“Okay, so it ate the Element of Terror? Then what?” Dusk asked.

“Then it consumed the other Elements of Destruction.”

Dusk recoiled, his eyes wide. “What?!” How?!”

“I don’t know. That part wasn’t in the dream,” Gloom grumbled again, slumping and looking away. “It wasn’t like yours, like you’re watching a recording through a vid-display. My dream was a bunch of disjointed images. So at that point I just saw more darkness swirling around the baticorn and it grew bigger and bigger and I just somehow knew what was happening. Eventually it had the power of all the Elements, and then… uh…”

“It attacked Canterlot?” Dusk guessed.

Gloom Fang looked up and slowly shook his head. “No. It attacked Ferrous Dominus.”

Dusk’s jaw fell open.

“Again, I’m not sure HOW any of this goes down, but I got some pretty… dramatic imagery. Void ships falling to the planet’s surface in pieces. Tank regiments being consumed by shadows. Temples ablaze. The manufactorum sinking into the ground. Corpses everywhere: human, Astartes, pony, Tau, even some Orks and changelings were among the heaps of dead.”

“It makes no sense. It’s impossible,” Dusk mumbled.

Gloom swallowed. “And then… at the end of the dream… the baticorn stood in front of the ruins of Nightwatch. The Astartes champions of the 38th Company were dead, their smoldering armor sitting among the rubble. Princess Luna was there too, lying at the baticorn’s hooves… dead.”

All the thestrals shifted uncomfortably at that, but it seemed like Gloom Fang wasn’t finished. “Atop the ruins, though, were the Elements of Harmony, Equinought Squadron. They were alive, and in full armor. And Princess Celestia was with them, glowing with a fantastic, furious light!” His voice sounded slightly haunted now, and his eyes were unfocused. “Celestia wept. She was crying, sobbing desperately. I think they all were. Staring down the baticorn and getting ready to strike it down.”

There was a long pause, and then Gloom Fang set his jaw, his eyes focusing on Dusk again. “Then the baticorn fled. It retreated. Not out of fear or regret, but because it just didn’t want to hurt them. That was the end of the dream.”

Dusk Blade slumped onto his rear, an expression of awe and disbelief on his face. He didn’t say anything, silently staring at the other stallion. Gloom shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, rubbing his wings together and fiddling with his hooves.

“After I woke up I was spooked, but I didn’t think too much of it. It was a dream about some kind of monster I’d never heard of before, and if the dream was an omen it might obtain ultimate power and kill everyone except the Equestrians for some reason at an indeterminate point in the future. Sure, whatever. Nothing I can do about that, right? But… then I learned it was real, and that it’s already hunting Chaos…”

“That’s why we need to get to the Element first,” Nacht said with a nod. “If we can get to the Element of Terror before she does, we can eat it first and that should end her killing spree before it begins!”

Gloom looked annoyed. “Nacht, we don’t know it’s a she. It could be a guy.”

“It’s a Princess! All Princesses are mares!”

“It’s an unknown creature that RESEMBLES a Princess! Besides, how do you know stallions can’t be Princesses? Just because that dumb sun hag is a sexist and won’t coronate-“

Neuron Dialect hissed sharply, and Gloom Fang immediately stopped speaking. She looked over at Dusk Blade, who was staring at the floor, deep in thought. Gloom and Nacht waited nervously, unsure what else to say.

“We know what we have to do,” Neuron said calmly. “Search and destroy. Either the baticorn or the Element itself must be neutralized, and we cannot ask the Company to do it without exposing everything to them. Even then, they would probably just dissect us and ignore our warnings.”

Dusk’s scowl returned. “And how do you expect to find either of those targets?”

Neuron pursed her lips. “I can’t. That’s why we need you, Lieutenant.”

Dusk did not seem pleased by this vote of confidence. “The Vault of the Ancients is within the Dead Barrows, through miles of labyrinthine cavern networks filled with threats only we and the Moon Mages have ever seen and survived,” Dusk reminded them. “We only got into it and out again last time thanks to the Mages, and that group didn’t live through the experience. That isn’t happening again. Nopony alive knows a way to the Vault. You understand that, right?”

“Um… no? I thought we could just sort of… go to the depths and fight our way in,” Gloom admitted, holding up his splinter rifle. “I mean, we have guns and armor now! We’re way stronger than before! The pit beasts can’t beat us!”

“I was thinking we might be able to trick the Company unicorns into making the portal like the Moon cultists did before,” Nacht suggested. “There are a ton of them here, even after the fleet left.”

“Can’t we simply map the cavern network with some kind of Mechanicus probe and sneak through once we know the way?” Neuron asked. “Surely they have a device that can do it.”

Dusk Blade looked from one bat pony to the other, staring at them silently. Then he rubbed his forehead with a hoof. “Moon help me, I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“Wow, okay,” Gloom Fang wilted again, his ears flattening against his head. “That’s kind of why we needed you to come along, but you don’t have to be rude…”

“Lieutenant, I know you don’t believe in destiny,” Neuron began, only for Dusk to interrupt.

“You’re right. I don’t. But I DO believe in dream omens, unfortunately.” The Lunar Lieutenant seemed very annoyed to have to admit this. “Whether some echo of the Element, bits of Warp stuff filtering into our minds from all the Chaos mojo, or even this baticorn directly projecting illusions to us somehow, it’s definitely not random nonsense and we can’t ignore it. For one thing, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get a good day’s rest again if we can’t kill whatever it is. So… yeah. I’m in.”

“Okay. Great. So do YOU have a plan, then?” Nacht asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Dusk said, heaving a deep sigh.

“What? Already?!” the other three thestrals perked up in delight, but then Dusk held up a hoof.

“Yeah. Already. It has a lot of details to hammer out and I need to get it all ready in ONE DAY because you dolts brought it to me on the night before a deployment, but… yeah.” Then his eyes narrowed. “HOWEVER… if I do this, I’m doing it on two conditions.”

“Which are?” Nacht gestured with a wing for him to continue.

“One: If and when we get it, the Element of Terror is mine,” Dusk said, immediately getting dubious looks from the others. “I might eat it, or I might stick a melta bomb on it, or I might hand it over to Equestria to lock away in their big Element Room which is apparently empty now. I’ll decide on the way there.”

“What?! Don’t give it to Equestria!” Gloom objected.

“I’ll take your opinion into account, but probably not in the way you hoped,” Dusk retorted. “Second condition: If I’m doing this, I’m running it like a real mission. That means I’m in charge and you three follow orders to the letter. I also don’t want to hear any complaints about my plan, which will be explained on a need-to-know basis.”

“You’re not going to tell us the plan? Booo!” Nacht pouted.

“I’m not telling YOU the plan so you can’t gossip it all away,” Dusk snapped. Nacht winced and started sulking. “The rest of you because you’re going to start complaining and pestering me. Now I’ve got to go and start making preparations.” He paused, looking back and forth among his subordinates. “What do you say, Dagger Squad?”

“Sir, yes Sir!” the three bat ponies barked, albeit Nacht was still sulky about it.

“Good. DISMISSED.”

Ferrous Dominus – sector 4
Mechanicus cybernetics foundry Beta-6

“Please hold still, it’s almost done. Let me know if you experience any intense electric shock, as that indicates that the nerve socket may be misaligned.”

“Wh-What about l-little sh-shocks?”

“Totally normal. I know they hurt. I’ve been through this process too. But we’re almost done now.”

“Okay… Okay… Eep!”

Gear Works tapped at a holo-screen sitting off to his side, and then returned his attention to the pony on the other side of him. She was an earth pony mare who was being suspended by a large sheet hung from the ceiling and under her belly, leaving her three legs hanging down and exposed. Only two of them were biological, with the rear left leg already replaced with a bulky bionic. The left shoulder had an augmetic linkage installed into the joint, with a frayed cluster of wires hanging down around a central rod.

Gears turned his servo arm toward the wires, a needle probe attached to the upper claw. “There we are… a little feedback is to be expected,” he assured her as he gently attached the wires one by one to different points on the linkage well.

“The back leg-AH!-it didn’t feel like this! Ow!”

“Forelegs have more delicate and sophisticated nerve integration since you need greater dexterity. The pain will subside.”

Gears finished the last wire, and then checked the holo-screen again. “Parameters set. All systems green. Beginning final assembly.” A servo arm mounted on the floor wheeled around while carrying the bionic leg to be installed.

“This time any intense electric shock indicates successful nerve integration, not an error, so please inform me if you’re NOT in sudden and intense pain.”

“Wh-What? You never said-“

The bionic’s sleeve was pushed onto the rod, and the mare suddenly screamed.

“Omnissiah, once again you have blessed us with steel to renew our shattered flesh. Close the circuit, and restore this broken vessel to completion. Let mind give purpose and direction to motor, and once again join machine and flesh in enlightened harmony.” Gears spoke a prayer of convalescence as he worked at the holo-screen, his words rising above the gasps and sobs of the pony above him.

Though it felt like quite a long time for the hapless mare, soon the procedure was complete. The servo arms withdrew and the suspension belt started lowering itself to the floor. The pony laying on the belt whimpered, tears streaming from her eyes while her breath heaved. When she touched the floor, however, her breath caught in her throat.

The pony lifted her new front leg, and then the rear one. She looked down at her bionic hoof, shifting it back and forth. Then she took a few steps as fresh, happier tears started welling in her eyes.

“It… It works. They really work. This… I…” she quivered.

“You may find some lingering discomfort from the installation, but it should pass,” Gear Works said, banishing the holo-screen. “The procedure is complete, Miss Hearth.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much! I didn’t know if it would really work! I can really walk again!” she cried, racing over to the Dark Acolyte and seizing him in a hug while she wept.

“You’re welcome, Miss Hearth.” Gears waited patiently for her to stop crying, and then started to disentangle himself. “I am relieved that this operation has concluded to your satisfaction. Please ensure you review the user manual and perform weekly maintenance checks so that repairs can be completed in good order. I also advise you practice greater skepticism in the future when presented with feline scam artists selling the services of others. I take it you can see yourself back to your home sector?”

“I sure can! Thank you again!” she said brightly, trotting to the door with a highly exaggerated gait.

She stopped in front of the door, staring at the set of wheels and straps that she had used to carry herself around before her augmentation. Then, with a grin, she raised her bionic hoof.

“Don’t need THIS anymore!” she chirped, stomping on the center bar of the mobility aid. It folded instantly before the superior alloys and electro-twitch motors of the bionic, snapping in half and sending one wheel rolling off across the room behind her.

“Uh… we could have reused that for somepony else…” Gears mumbled as the mare walked out the door triumphantly. Then he sighed as the door shut. “Well, never mind. Time to clean up.”

Gear Works turned around.

“Hi, buddy!” said Dusk Blade.

“BWARGABWAA!!” said Gear Works, stumbling backwards. The Dark Acolyte managed to steady himself before he fell over, and after steadying himself the sensor lights on his visor narrowed. “Lieutenant! What are you doing here?!” he demanded.

“Looking for you, obviously!” Dusk said brightly. “I was worried you might be asleep. Great job on the mare’s legs, by the way. You’re really getting the hang of this!”

“What do you want?” the cyborg pony asked sourly.

Dusk coughed into a hoof and his expression turned more serious. “I need your help with a little something.”

“Let me guess,” Gears said irritably, walking past the other stallion, “you want me to produce some sort of document full of forbidden lore or esoteric technical data for you to present to Princess Sparkle as a gift.”

“No, no, I-” Dusk stopped mid-sentence, blinking in surprise. “Wait… that’s a great idea! Why didn’t I think of that?!”

“Then I guessed wrong. Oh well. Go ahead, explain this newest trifle,” Gear Works said as he started shutting down the machines around the assembly rig.

“Right. Yeah. So…” Dusk wet his lips, filing away Gear’s idea for later. “We’re planning a new offensive against the Orks to clear out the badlands. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but things have gotten pretty bad out there. The next phase is to do a big recon operation tomorrow night, mostly using the Lunar Guard.”

“I am aware. A few Dark Acolytes have been assigned to the forward garrison to assist with the artillery battery and defensive perimeter.”

“Right! Good. So anyway, you’ve been assigned to Dagger Squadron as a support unit,” Dusk informed him.

Gears froze, his hoof hovering just millimeters from the holo-screen. “That is incorrect. I have already been assigned to a temple maintenance detail, a lascannon inspection, three power cell replacement routes, and then some routine Prayers of Vigilance to a malfunctioning perimeter augury. All here within Ferrous Dominus. That will preclude any possible deployments outside the city.”

“Yeesh, that sounds like a lot of work. Lucky I got you reassigned!” Dusk said brightly.

“WHAT?! HOW?!” Gears demanded, shock and fear briefly turning his optics screen to static. “You don’t have the authority to demand a Mechanicus deployment!”

“That’s true, yes.” Dusk was still smiling. “I had to ask Princess Luna to secure support, and she had to ask General Harlin to make the actual request because the Techpriests flag her support requests as low priority. So it was a lot of trouble getting your detail changed without your knowledge or permission, but we did it!”

“This is absurd! I’m not a combat enginseer! I’m not optimized for battlefield operations!” Gear Works was starting to panic now, his servo arm swinging back and forth as if seeking an exit. “I have no weapons! I have no armor! My augmentation possess inadequate combat utility ratings!”

“Whoa! Whoa! Calm down, buddy!” Dusk Blade’s voice was uncertain now; he hadn’t been expecting such a reaction. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few Orks!”

“Yes, I am VERY afraid of a few Orks!” Gears retorted. “And we don’t know if it’s going to be ‘a few!’ That’s what the entire mission is about!”

“They can’t even shoot!” Dusk countered.

“I’ve scraped dozens of dead crew out of tank wreckage, Lieutenant; don’t presume to tell me that those green maniacs are no threat!” Gears barked.

Dusk was very surprised at the vehemence of Gear’s resistance. “But you’ve fought aliens before! What about the Tyranids?”

“They were a feeble gene-strain that contaminated an agri-complex! Barely a shadow of the creatures detailed in the data stacks!” Gear Works retorted, stepping forward while glaring at the thestral. “These Orks have been warring with our frontier detachments for months until they became too great a threat to be contested with patrol divisions and precision strikes! Don’t act like this is a trivial deployment!”

Dusk Blade grimaced and decided to change tactics. “Okay, okay! You’re right! I was way too cavalier about it! I’m sorry!” He sat on his haunches and clapped his hooves together. “I know you’re not a combat guy! Me and the squad will protect you! I promise!”

“Oh, you PROMISE?!” Gears sneered, immediately raising further alarm bells in Dusk’s head. “What exactly are your promises worth, Lieutenant? A servo skull and a vial of rejected septic technopage?!”

Dusk blinked owlishly. “A servo skull and… what? What’s a technophage?”

“You looted the Warpsmith’s forge, you insolent rodent!” Gear Works snapped, stamping his bionic hoof onto the floor.

“What?! No I didn’t!” Dusk lied.

“Of course you did! Do you really think you were being clever dropping off your ident-key before infiltrating the facility?! As if I wouldn’t notice it was hanging on the temple décor while the forge was being looted! I was interrogated for nearly three hours thanks to you!”

Dusk gulped. This conversation was getting out of control very quickly. “Look, we’re getting off-track here. This is a mission assignment and you are CRITICAL to the success of our deployment!”

“How?! Why?!” Gear Works demanded. “None of the other scout teams have Mechanicus support!”

“Er… well… the reason…” Dusk started to sweat as he realized he hadn’t come up with a plausible story to tell the Dark Acolyte. He had expected Gears to immediately submit to a proper deployment order, but not only was the tech-cultist resisting, he seemed to have something vaguely resembling leverage in this confrontation.

With no decent lies available, the Lunar Lieutenant braced himself for the final resort: telling the truth.

“I need you with our team to draw raw data from a series of seismic pylons and then to run a drilling platform,” Dusk admitted, hanging his head.

Gear Works didn’t respond right away, doing a quiet noosphere search of the logged mission objectives for the Lunar Guard’s operation. “You need me to do what? None of the mission plans involve a drilling platform.”

“My mission is special. Obviously most of the Lunar Guard are locating Ork encampments for the upcoming strikes, but there’s a different objective target for my team somewhere in the badlands.”

“What is this target?” Gears asked.

“That’s classified.”

Gear’s sensor light narrowed again. Dusk winced.

“I’ll tell you later, okay? For now what I can tell you is that there was a DarkMech mining operation attacked and looted by the Orks while their presence in the badlands was expanding. There were numerous sensory devices that were set up to collect data on subterranean mineral formations, and they got swept up by the greenskins a week ago. They hit a drilling rig at about the same time and stole it. Our mission is to recover the data and the rig.”

“So the rig is the objective?”

“No. We need the drill rig to… well, drill down into the objective area. And we need the seismic data to find the objective area first.”

“I don’t understand. Why don’t we simply deploy new machines after the greenskins have been pushed back?”

“This mission is time-sensitive, and the Dark Mechanicus isn’t going to send more equipment so we can use it. So we’ve gotta use the ones they already sent, but we’re going to have to take them back from the Orks first.”

“Recovering several machines from the Orks sounds SUBSTANTIALLY more dangerous than the original mission of simply scouting their forward positions and encampments,” Gears pointed out.

“It is, yeah. But I’m not asking you to do any fighting. Just hang back and let my team do the dirty work.” Dusk cautiously placed a hoof on the Acolyte’s shoulder. “If things get too messy out there and we scrub the mission, then you turn right back around and retreat to the forward base, you hear me?”

“Your squad consists of fliers. If you give the order to retreat – or your squad decides to do so of its own volition – I will most assuredly be the slowest pony trying to escape the Orks’ retribution,” Gear Works reminded him, blasting a puff of steam from his mask ventilation.

“That… Well, uh, that’s true, but we won’t leave you behind!” Dusk assured him.

“Yes you will,” Gears scoffed.

“No, no! I’m not lying about that part, really!” Dusk insisted.

Gear Works swatted his hoof away. “I’ll be clear, Lieutenant: I know you’re up to something, and I suspect this is not a sanctioned mission at all. Nonetheless, you DID go through the necessary channels to have my orders changed, and I do believe you when you say you need my assistance.”

Dusk’s ears perked. “... Okay… so… you’re in?”

“I have little choice, do I?” Gears grumbled, “but I demand to know one thing first: is this entire ‘secret mission’ just a plot to get a sufficiently impressive gift for Princess Twilight Sparkle?”

“No! Definitely not,” Dusk scoffed.

“So you found a present for her in the forge?”

“Yeah, I think that servo skull will actually do-” Dusk winced. “GUANO. That, uh, I meant-”

“Don’t trouble yourself trying to excuse yourself to me,” Gears spat, his eye lights narrowed. “I’ll be on the deployment dock with everyone else tomorrow. Now begone. I need to organize my personal projects to accommodate my absence and probable demise.”

Gear Works turned back to the cogitator and summoned another holo-screen. Dusk Blade turned away too, but then hesitated. He had gotten everything he needed out of this confrontation but felt very uneasy about the outcome. Part of that was obviously the ease at which the Dark Acolyte navigated and picked apart his lies, but more than that was an uncharacteristic concern about the other stallion’s safety.

“Hey, Gears?” Dusk asked, twisting his head around.

The cyborg pony didn’t respond, so Dusk continued. “I was being serious before. I’ll protect you out there. It’s going to be okay.”

Gears paused in tapping at the holo-screen. “… I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I know you don’t trust me, Gears, and… well, I don’t really have anyone else to blame for that,” Dusk said more firmly, “but I need you. There’s nopony else I can rely on around here. Especially for something like this.”

“I still don’t believe you,” the cyborg grumbled, “but I appreciate that you’re trying to appeal to my competence rather than slugging me in the jaw to ensure compliance. Good day, Lieutenant.”

Dusk Blade raised a hoof and opened his mouth, a protest on the tip of his tongue. But nothing came out, and after a few seconds he gave up. His ears flipped down and he trotted to the exit.

???

“Then… It’s over. It’s really over. Equestria has won. All because of… All because of HER.”

“I would say Norn deserves most of the blame, yes, but none of us exactly covered ourselves in glory up until now. You remember how well Cutlass did.”

“At least Cutlass TRIED. Where was Eisenwing’s vaunted ferocity when the Bloodborne stabbed us in the back? You pitiful-”

“ENOUGH. No more squabbling. If you will not heed our tidings, then you may leave.”

A trio of unicorns stood atop a raised platform, each of them dressed in old silks and decorated with silver jewelry. On the floor below them were the bat pony tribal leaders, standing in a semi-circle at attention. Notably absent, for obvious reasons, were any representative of the Bloodborne.

“Welcome, friends and allies in darkness. We appreciate you taking the time to meet with us in this troubled age,” offered one of the unicorns.

“’Troubled’ is quite an understatement,” Sturm said gruffly. “The tribes are in anarchy. Several ponies have already left our caverns and set out on their own, convinced that we’re only a few moons away from being annihilated by either the Bloodborne or Equestria itself.”

“We’ve had constant fights breaking out,” warned Bleak Attica. “Some ponies are claiming that the Moon Mages are leading us to destruction, and others are clinging more desperately to their faith, accusing those doubtful ponies of betrayal like the Bloodborne.”

“Which lot of them do you suppose is right?” asked Rattle.

The unicorns offered the last speaker an aggravated glare before taking control of the meeting again.

“It has not been easy for the Moon Mages either, I assure you,” grumbled one of the mares on the platform. “But we did not bring you here to commiserate. We must look to the future now. A future without her dark grace, Nightmare Moon.”

Another unicorn quickly added. “Eventually, of course, she will return to this world and plunge it into darkness! However, a timetable of centuries rather than decades poses… many challenges.”

“A future mired in glorious shadow… that none of us will live to see,” growled Cutlass.

“In that respect, the order of the Moon Mages will continue amassing weapons and arcana, preparing for that eventuality and maneuvering for advantage in the shadows. However, most of our resources must go to propagating, maintaining, and protecting the cult to ensure it survives over such a vast timeline,” announced the Moon Mage.

“Oh, what a surprise, no help for us lowly rodents starving in the caverns,” Drakk said bitterly. “At least you’re consistent, I suppose.”

“No help? NO HELP?!” another unicorn snapped, bristling like an enraged cat. “We concocted a plan to empower you ingrates directly and return the Nightmare from her banishment, and YOU-”

A sharp electric crackle interrupted them, and they recoiled as a flash surrounded a different unicorn’s horn.

“ENOUGH. Squabble with each other on your own time.” The front mage let her horn dim, and then straightened. “We will do what we must to ensure there is still a future for all our people. But I’m sure you can appreciate how tenuous our order’s future is right now. Equestria can never learn of our existence or the existence of the Elements of Destruction.”

“Ah, yes. The Elements. What is to be done about yours?” Rattle asked, turning to Sturm. “We were going to give ours to a chosen champion after a tournament.”

“Absolutely not. The Moon Mages will take them,” snorted another unicorn.

“What? Why?!”

“Because if you use them yourselves then Equestria would inevitably learn of them, and then they would learn about us, and then we’re all out of luck. To try to stand against Celestia when she still wields the Elements of Harmony is futile without our Mistress.”

“It’s bad enough that Norn consumed hers… if she makes a move on Equestria herself then we may all pay the price.”

“What was the point of all this if the first real, tangible achievement of your cult is locked away, never to be used?!” Sturm complained.

“Oh, they will be used. In due time, my little bat. In twenty years or a thousand, the tribes WILL see themselves triumphant over the decadent foals of Equestria.”

The horn of the lead unicorn flashed, and her eyes started to glow brightly.

“HEAR MY WORDS MASTERS OF THE NIGHT, FOR OUR VICTORY IS WRITTEN IN THE STARS THEMSELVES! WHEN THE GREAT DARKNESS DESCENDS UPON THE LANDS OF EQUESTRIA, FIVE NOBLE THESTRALS SHALL IN TURN RISE UP FROM THE DEPTHS! BEARING THE ELEMENTS OF DESTRUCTION AND UNITED WITH THE NIGHTMARE, THEY SHALL BRING LOW THE ENEMY OF THE MOON AND DEFEAT THE WRETCHED USURPER! AND THEN, FINALLY, THE NIGHT WILL LAST FOREVER!!”

Ferrous Dominus: sector 20
Nightwatch – Lieutenant Dusk Blade’s quarters

Dusk groaned and cracked his eyes open, looking up at the chronometer display next to his bed. 13:00. His eyes shifted into a glare, staring accusingly at the display like it owed him an explanation.

“I think I preferred it when I only had the same dream over and over. At least that one was pretty long,” he grunted, pushing himself up and stretching his wings. “Blasted magic thoughts are going to get me killed if I’m half asleep on deployment.”

He rolled out of bed and then crossed the room to his cogitator. With a few taps the device started up, and Dusk turned around and headed toward his armoire. Swinging it open, his gaze lingered only slightly over the many pictures of Twilight Sparkle before he started putting on his armor.

A crackle came from the cogitator. Attention! Deployment order designation: Dagger Squadron. Reconnaissance operation Gamma 41-2702. Presence requested in sector 24 at 17:00. The voice was bright and pleasant, and was clearly recorded from a mare.

“Another night, another handful of greenskins sent to that big green cloud in the sky,” Dusk mumbled to himself while he fit his mask into place. “Among the… other goals.”

After loading his wargear and setting the splinter rifle into place, Dusk closed the armoire and turned around. He walked up to his coffee table and lifted up the lid, and then reached in with a wing. He withdrew a green vial, and then squinted at the decidedly unhelpful label with variously sized and positioned blocks that ran the length of the tube.

“What did Gears say this was? A ‘techno phage?’ Hmm. Sounds like something you’d use on… well, him. Maybe it would be useful to chuck at a walker if we have to fight one.” Dusk shrugged and slipped it into his chest pouch. “The vial seems to be diamantine, so it’s not going to break on any minor impact. Probably don’t want to get this stuff all over me even if I’m not metal enough for its taste, though.”

He closed the top of his hidden stash and then slapped his cheeks with his hooves. “All right Dusk, this is it. Time for your big plan. You have an ancient artifact entombed who knows how many miles under the ground in an enchanted vault. You have an enemy army of violent lunkheads who want to murder you for giggles. You have a friendly army of corrupt psychopaths who can’t learn what you’re up to. There’s a THIRD army of inventive freaks that may be involved who nobody can figure out. Finally, there’s some unholy magical bat-beast out there who kills Chaos troops for no obvious reason. You’ve got three clueless but well-armed idiots and a brilliant but severely under-armed cyborg to help. We have to capture a bunch of looted contraptions from right under the Orks’ noses, use them to drill down to the vault, and then SOMEHOW break into the element vault itself. Then, FINALLY, the stupid dreams will stop. Probably. You can handle this!”

His stomach rumbled, and the bat pony winced. “But first: breakfast.”

Ferrous Dominus sector 20
Primary mess hall

Dusk sat on a steel bench, staring down at the dataslate he had brought from his room. An empty ration tin and water cup sat on the table next to him; the standard meal for soldier and laborer alike within the city. His gaze was unfocused, and he hadn’t touched the dataslate in over ten minutes.

Bits and pieces of his dreams swam before his eyes while the Moon Mages’ prophecy echoed in his ears. Visions of Queen Norn transforming, the Tree of Turmoil dying, and unicorns shouting at each other. Over and over the dreams played in his head, and this time Dusk Blade surrendered himself to the visions of the distant past. It occurred to him that the dreams may somehow help him in the mission ahead: seeing and hearing the very ponies who had made the Elements of Destruction and hidden them away could yield clues as to how they work and were protected by their custodians. Alas, it appeared that most of his dreams consisted of ponies bickering and making angry denunciations. A fascinating drama, perhaps, but useless to him.

“Hey Lieutenant, you’re up early.”

Dusk flinched, breaking out of his stupor. He blinked repeatedly and then turned his head around, spotting Gloom Fang trotting toward him. The purple stallion already had a ration tin and water cup, a wing clutching each one. He dropped them on the tabletop and then jumped, flying over the table to land on the bench opposite his squad commander.

“Good evening, Gloomy. Any interesting dreams today?” Dusk didn’t mean it to sound accusatory, but the other stallion winced and his ears pinned back.

“No, not today. My dream was a one-off event, I think. That’s why I didn’t think it was some kind of omen like Nacht’s.”

“Do you think it’s a warning? That there’s any chance to change it? Or is this some thread of magic just playing a holo-vid of our future to taunt us?”

Gloom’s ears twitched and he blinked repeatedly. Then his forehead creased deeply in thought. The blood-drinking thestral always adopted an awkward, straining expression when he was ruminating on something difficult. Dusk found it rather endearing, although sometimes the results made him want to throw things at the other stallion.

“… I think we can change it,” Gloom Fang said finally, frowning. “The future isn’t set in stone, right? You always say that our choices are still ours.”

“Yeah, but you usually disagree,” Dusk grunted. “You believe in the prophecy.”

“Prophecies are different,” Gloom Fang said matter-of-factly, lifting the tip of his wing into the air and wagging it. “Specific tidings handed down from gods and seers are different from random bits of a future being pushed into your dreams by… I don’t know, Chaos or artifacts or whatever.”

“That’s true, it is different,” Dusk agreed. “But in the opposite way, I think.”

“You believe the prophecy is guano and these dumb dreams are true? Really?”

“Yes. Bat ponies and unicorns lie, Gloomy. But magic? Magic does what it’s told. If it forms a vision of the future you’d better believe I take it more seriously than something a unicorn said a thousand years ago to make up for her plan blowing up in her face.”

“Okay but if magic does what it’s told what if something tells it to lie to us?” Gloom asked, picking up his ration tin.

Dusk jabbed a wing at Gloom Fang and opened his mouth as if to argue, but after a few seconds he just snorted and slumped onto the table.

Gloom chuckled and then suddenly bit into the ration tin, his fangs punching through the top. Then he raised the tin and started gulping it down. Dusk Blade watched the affair and grimaced.

“You know, I appreciate the human technology more than most but I’ll never get used to this nutrient slime. Absolutely horrid stuff,” the Lieutenant complained. “It’s probably the thing I like least about Ferrous Dominus.”

Gloom put down the half-empty tin and then took a sip of water before he replied. “Really? The pollution and dark sorcery are no big deal but the tasteless gruel bothers you?”

“The pollution sucks but I actually really like the gas mask aesthetic we’ve all been pushed into and appreciate how everypony showers every day now,” Dusk explained with a shrug. “As for the dark sorcery, it’s kind of why we’re all still alive so I find it hard to complain.”

Gloom’s eyes narrowed as he glared across the table. “I DID wash every day! I was in the barracks showers more often than you were back in Canterlot!”

“Sure, but sometimes you were getting dirtier in there, not cleaner.”

Gloom Fang flushed deeply, and his muzzle scrunched up. He quickly picked up his ration tin again and shoveled the remaining contents into his mouth.

“It wouldn’t be hard to accommodate a big population of pest insects, either. There were plenty of roaches in Canterlot. But it’s just too… well, not clean, exactly, but it’s not the kind of dirty that’s good for bugs around here.” Dusk sighed. “Fruit-eaters like Neuro probably have a hard time too. They import lots of hay and greens into Ferrous Dominus but not so much fruit. And almost all the fruit is apples.”

“What’s wrong with apples?” Gloom Fang asked between gulps of water.

“They turn into weaponized alien insects. That are also themselves apples.” Dusk made a gagging sound.

“That… wha… what?”

“Look it up.” Dusk Blade returned his attention – waning as it was – back to the dataslate, pressing his wing tip to the screen and scrolling down.

Gloom looked perturbed, but he put down his empty water cup and then leaned across the table. “Say, uh… Dusk?”

“Lieutenant Blade,” Dusk corrected acidly.

“What? We’re in the mess, c’mon.”

“That’s why I warned you again rather than making good on my earlier threat to remove a fang. Social grace is important. Now what is it?”

Gloom grimaced. “About the… the baticorn… where do you think it came from?”

“I don’t know,” Dusk replied.

“You don’t know for sure, fine. But you have some ideas, right?”

The blood-drinking thestral looked somewhat anxious, and Dusk quirked an eyebrow. “What, you don’t have any theories?”

“Look, I’m not as smart as you, all right?” Gloom huffed. “None of it makes any sense to me. Celestia wouldn’t really turn a thestral into a Princess… would she?”

“Probably not, no,” Dusk admitted, “so this one probably ascended some other way.”

Gloom’s eyes bulged. “What? Ponies can turn into alicorns without her help?”

“Probably, yeah. If we accept that Celestia didn’t do it, this new Princess is proof of that.” Dusk scratched at his chin with his wing claw. “Now, personally, I subscribe to the theory that every pony has an alicorn body inherently, and they’re just locked away somehow. Princess Celestia is obviously capable of magically unlocking it, but there might be other means.”

“You mean that maybe I could be an alicorn?” Gloom asked, looking awed at the prospect.

“Technically, yes. But in practical terms, almost nopony actually does become an alicorn, so the conditions must be very difficult. And they’re a secret, obviously.” Dusk frowned. “I asked Shard if the Moon Mages had ever come up with anything regarding the alicorn ascension and she said no. I believe her, because if they could turn thestrals into magical weapons they would have done that, even if there were extremely dangerous side effects.”

“So this baticorn found a way to grow a horn on their own? But how? How would somepony even think to do that, and how would they start?”

“No idea. There’s a lot of weird and secret magic out there, though. Everypony thinks there’s only one set of Elements, for example.” Dusk frowned. “Well, actually, I guess now there are only one set… weird to think about.”

Gloom Fang seemed intrigued, leaning across the table excitedly. “So there might be, like… a magic spring, or a jewel, or something like that, and when you touch it you can become an alicorn?! That would be awesome!”

“Keep your voice down,” Dusk chided.

“Oh, right. Sorry. But just think of it. If we could find that artifact, we could become baticorns too. Imagine a whole squad of magic-using fliers. That would be so cool,” Gloom’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll bet if we became baticorns we’d get power armor.”

“If we became baticorns the 38th Company would probably vivisect us to figure out how to make more,” Dusk drawled. “Nobody actually told the Iron Warriors where the class of Princess ponies came from. They think Princess Twilight Sparkle was born like that. If they knew the truth they’d probably force Princess Celestia to raise an army of alicorns.”

“Huh. Yeah. I guess they would.” Gloom frowned. “Wait, why is that bad again?”

“Princess Celestia is probably the only person in the world who knows anything about the alicorns beyond the silly legends, so I, for one, am not about to suggest to the Iron Warriors that she could magic up an army of super ponies any time she wants to but just doesn’t feel like it,” Dusk explained, “and since we’re on the topic, the other possibility here is that Celestia actually DID create this baticorn after all.”

“What? Why would she do that?”

“Don’t know. But if she was going to start upgrading ponies in secret, thestrals wouldn’t be her worst choice. We tend to be secretive and no one would care if a bunch of us went missing one night for no apparent reason.” He paused. “Also, not to put too fine a point on it, but Princess Celestia would not be heartbroken to learn that such a creation was murdering human Chaos soldiers.”

A buzzer suddenly rang from above, and every bat pony in the mess hall cringed at the intensity of the sound.

Alert! Deployment group alpha, delta, and lambda are to report to the landing pads for combat deployment within 20 minutes. Failure to report on time will be strictly punished. Have a nice night! The mare’s voice coming from the vox caster giggled and cut out.

“Welp. Back to work,” Dusk said, fitting his mask in place and hopping off the bench.

“So are we deploying with the others, or what? You never told us when and where we would be breaking off to do our own thing.” Gloom Fang joined his squad leader, using his wing to fix his own mask into place.

“Just follow your orders, Gloomy. We’ll get there.” Dusk smirked. “And along the way maybe you’ll get to ask the baticorn about what happened in person.”

Gloom shuddered and trotted after the Lunar Lieutenant.

Ferrous Dominus – sector 24
Landing pads

“Squadrons Dark Arrow and Nightfall! Form up!” barked the human commander over the howling wind. “Your lift is on pad 9! You have 5 minutes to embark!”

One of the squad leaders let out a sharp, sudden shriek, and several other bat ponies around the lots jumped into the air to land behind her. Once they had all landed they skulked past the human officer, casting glares in his direction from behind the glimmering green lights of their optics visors. The mercenary watched them pass, glaring back from the cluster of bright red optics sensors that had replaced much of his face. The thestrals walked up a ramp into the waiting transport bay of a Valkyrie gunship, their manes whipping back and forth under the engine backwash.

“May the dark gods preserve you and bring death to your enemies. The green tide will break upon our ramparts!” the man shouted, slamming a fist against the Chaos Star hanging against his chest.

After all the ponies had entered, a loud clunking noise came from the ramp and it slowly lifted up and closed. The aircraft’s engines built up to a deafening roar, and after a few seconds the gunship lifted off into the air.

Dusk Blade watched the Valkyrie pass overhead, picking up speed as it shot westward. Numerous other transport gunships were on standby, either waiting for the pilots or cargo. Gloom Fang kept his head down, his ears pinned back while he had to endure the constant rumble of gunship engines.

They approached a particular group of bat ponies talking amongst themselves, but the conversation stopped as soon as the two incoming stallions were spotted. Nacht and Neuron Dialect were waiting quietly at the periphery of the group, but another mare immediately stepped forward. Like all the ponies she was wearing her respirator and he couldn’t see much of her expression, but her scowl was evident in her tone once she spoke.

“Well, well, well! Look who finally showed up to lead his own unit! Here we were thinking we might have to launch a second mission to the Mechanicus district to find you!” she growled. “Cutting it a little close, aren’t you? We could be dropped from the deployment if you were late!”

“Good thing I wasn’t late, then,” Dusk retorted. “Also – not that it’s any of your business – I was busy eating, not loitering around the DarkMech.”

“Every other unit lead was here before the pilots were! Queen Empyra even showed up and gave a big speech about how we have to bide our time until we can seize the enemy by their throat,” the mare said bitterly. The other thestrals of Dagger squad didn’t seem nearly as aggrieved, and some of them looked away and coughed awkwardly.

“Can’t say I regret missing that,” Dusk Blade said, reaching his unit and stopping in front of the frustrated mare. “Anyway, calm down Sting, I’m here now. Listen up, everypony!” Dusk stretched a wing out to point at one of the platforms. “There’s been a change to our mission parameters! When Dagger Squad first gets called, six of you will embark and head out. The rest of us will be leaving on a separate craft!”

“Wh-What? Why?” Silver Sting demanded, almost stumbling over her words in surprise. “Who’s going in each group?”

“Me, Nacht, Neuro and Gloomy will make up the smaller group,” Dusk explained. “We’ve been given a secondary mission at the last minute that requires us to deploy and route separately. The rest of you will proceed with the original mission parameters. Sergeant Silver Sting is in charge.”

“Are you serious?! We’ve barely heard a squeak out of you since the last mission and now you’re abandoning us in the field?!” Sting snapped.

“No, of course not!” Dusk retorted sharply. Then, after a pause, he clarified, “I’m abandoning you before we even reach the field. Sorry about that. Orders are orders.”

“What is your new mission, then?” asked a different bat pony.

“Have to secure some seismic thingamajigs for the DarkMech,” Dusk said, “most of the details are classified, but the Orks have been stealing stuff in the vicinity and we’ve been tasked with getting some of it back.”

Neuron Dialect and Nacht shared an intrigued look, but Silver Sting was still extremely unhappy about this new information. “You’re going to be attacking an Ork’s stash directly? And you’ve got FEWER ponies in your team than we do? Shouldn’t Dagger Squad stay together for this if it’s more important than our recon objective?”

“It might seem that way, sure. But no.”

Sting arched an eyebrow, waiting for her superior officer to elaborate.

Dusk Blade turned around and started walking away. “Anyway, we have to meet with a few tactical assets before we take off. Also I made a bet that you would complete your run before Blaze’s team or we would all have an extra week of cleaning duty, so keep that in mind. Have fun!”

Silver Sting shrieked in aggravation as Dusk broke into a gallop, racing toward a garage on the edge of the sector’s landing pedestals and refueling towers. Gloom Fang bolted after him, shaking his head while his ears were pinned down. Nacht snickered before taking to the air to follow, and Neuron Dialect offered the agitated Sergeant a brief, silent bow before she joined Nacht’s pursuit.

Dusk trotted up to the garage and pressed a hoof into the access console. The panel lumen flashed green, and then the main doors started to slide open. Nacht and Neuron landed on either side of him, and the smaller mare slapped their Lieutenant on the shoulder with her wing.

“You know I’ve always said Sting needs to lighten up, but you’re REALLY pushing it, Lieutenant,” she snickered.

“She’ll make a better Lieutenant than I do when she gets promoted again,” Dusk replied, “I’ve just gotta stop getting in her way. She spends more time trying to keep me in line than our subordinates.”

“Okay, sure, but dialing back to the topic of our secret super-important objective, what’s the plan here? What was with that weird cover story about stealing a thing from the Orks?”

“That wasn’t a cover story,” Dusk replied. “Well, I guess the implication that it’s a sanctioned mission for the Mechanicus is a cover story, but no: we really are stealing back some seismic pylons that the Orks looted.”

“Oh. Why would we do that, though?” Nacht asked.

“Need-to-know basis, kiddo,” Dusk said, stepping forward once the door opened fully. “Now come meet our team.”

“I thought we WERE the team,” Gloom said, looking doubtful.

“We were, yeah. But that team wasn’t good enough, so I asked for some extra help. Check it out!”

Standing within the garage, on top of a raised platform and under the wholly inadequate glow of the ceiling lumens, was a single Strider battlesuit. It was connected to several cables, chains, and hoses, and on its flank someone had painted a cartoony image of a rocket blasting off. A lascannon was mounted on the right side of the walker’s head, under a large spotter lumen and a targeting scope.

Dusk trotted up to the walker but the other thestrals stopped, staring at it and looking quite unimpressed. There was an earth pony laying atop the Strider, apparently asleep, and it jolted when the Lieutenant jumped up and kicked the machine in its leg. Slowly the pony climbed upright, releasing a displeased groan followed by a heavy yawn.

“This is our team’s Strider. Meet our pilot!” Dusk looked up at the new equine, sounding pleased. “What’s your name, jockey?”

The pony sluggishly turned its head to stare over the edge of the Strider’s torso. “Zariyah. Zariyah Backfire. You are my command?”

Once the thestrals heard the pony’s voice – with a rich Stalliongrad accent, curiously enough – they could tell the pony was a mare. Up until that point it had not been obvious; her mane was a golden yellow run through with threads of black, and styled into a Mohawk. She was also fully clothed, which was hardly rare for a pony prepared for a combat deployment but helped to obscure her body and much of her ash-gray coat. She wore baggy camouflage pattern pants and a green shirt, along with a black leather jacket over it. An unusual outfit, and obviously not one that was issued from the 38th Company itself.

“Good evening, pilot! I’m Lieutenant Blade, and this is Dagger squad! We’ll be your attachment for this mission.”

“Whoa, wait, hold on,” Gloom Fang interrupted, “what is this? Why are we taking this thing with us? I know the Colonel said something about Strider support but we can’t have one in our unit! It can’t fly!”

Zariyah snorted and banged a hoof against the Strider’s top hatch. “My Icebreaker is faster than she looks, but yes, she does not fly. If that is a problem it is one you really should have worked out before now.”

“It’s not a problem,” Dusk assured her, ignoring Gloom’s questions. “Is your rig ready to deploy? The final pony in our group should be here any second now.”

“What? Final pony? Who? You didn’t tell us about any of this!” Gloom complained. Nacht and Neuron shared a concerned glance.

“That’s correct, Gloomy. What I DID tell you was that you were not to question my decisions in the execution of this mission. Do you remember that?”

The other stallion grimaced but immediately backed down, his ears falling flat against his head again. Zariyah tilted her head to the side and quirked an eyebrow.

“I will prepare to head out once everyone is accounted for, Lieutenant.” She cracked another yawn, blinking repeatedly. “I am not exactly night owl, so you’ll have to excuse me if I seem a bit worn out. A few Ork fusillades should wake me right up once we are in the field!”

Dusk’s ear twitched as he detected a pony with a distinctive half-mechanical gait approaching the garage. “Good to hear, Backfire. You’re primarily running transport in this operation, but with our luck you’ll get to use the big gun too.”

Zariyah smirked and saluted. Then she spotted a pair of ponies approaching the garage. “Are they with us?”

One of the ponies was a unicorn mare with a coat and mane in various shades of ruddy, dull purple: half pale, and half very light. She was a familiar pony to all the thestrals, and Nacht brightened considerably when she spotted her. Following a few steps behind her was Gear Works.

“Penny! Oh wow, we’re getting support from a Moon Mage? That’s awesome!” Nacht exclaimed, her rosy eyes shining. Penumbra Shard smiled back at her happily.

“No. I don’t know who let her out of the basement, but I’ll make sure to have them reprimanded severely. Shard, you can go home,” Dusk replied, pointing a hoof past the unicorn. “Our last team member is him.”

“We’re taking a servitor?” Gloom asked, looking doubtful. “Is this one of the cool servitors with guns? I don’t see any guns attached to it.”

Gear Works sighed, his ears drooping. Dusk Blade bristled and whirled around on his subordinate.

“Are you serious?! You don’t recognize the only pony Techpriest in the fleet?!” he snapped, causing the larger stallion to recoil.

“Uh… no?” Gloom Fang replied awkwardly.

“There’s a pony Techpriest?” Nacht asked.

Neuron said nothing, but started looking over the cyborg pony more carefully now that she knew he wasn’t a servitor.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Zariyah volunteered, still watching the confrontation from atop her Strider. “The Dark Mechanicus despises ponies. And human technomancy is an art that baffles our most dedicated masters. I doubt it is possible.”

“You’ve never heard of him either?! He designed the Strider battlesuits! He’s the reason you have a job!” Dusk shouted up at her.

“Nyet, the Strider was designed by Fio’el Fennin, one of the cowardly grayskins,” Zariyah said, pausing to turn her head and spit over the edge of her walker. “He sometimes stops by hangar to complain that we are over-stressing the leg servos by jumping over things. Feh! Engineers.”

Dusk looked ready to argue the point then and there, but Gear Works interrupted to cut him off. “Fio’el Fennin certainly contributed enough to their design that he could be mistaken for the sole inventor, yes. Anyway.” Gear Works took a step ahead of the mare he had arrived with. “My name is Gear Works, Dark Acolyte – not, as Lieutenant Blade said, a full Techpriest – of the Cult Mechanicus. I will be assisting you on this deployment.”

“Why?” Gloom Fang asked, narrowing his eyes. “Are we bringing you along in case we need to fix the Strider? Because I’m not totally sold on the Strider, either.”

“No. My understanding is that my skills are necessary for the completion of some key objectives,” Gears replied. “Of course, if you disagree, I will be more than happy to retire from this deployment immediately and return to Mechanicus business.”

Dusk stared hard at the other thestrals, his eyes daring them to say anything. Gloom wilted, and Neuron shrugged.

“Okay, fine; if the Lieutenant says you’re in, then you’re in,” Nacht agreed. “So with that out of the way, why is Penny here?”

Penumbra Shard patiently waited for everyone’s attention, and then she pressed a hoof to her chest. “I too am here to aid your deployment.”

“Since when? I didn’t requisition your support,” Dusk said suspiciously. “You’re not even supposed to be out of Nightwatch without an escort.”

“Since I sent a plea directly to Princess Luna to be added to the mission, of course.” Penumbra bowed her head, smirking. “I assured her that since your task required a Strider, it would not be such a burden to add another grounded pony to your team.” Then she gestured to Gears. “As for an escort, this kind stallion offered his aid, so it was not necessary to find additional protection.”

“That’s not true,” Gear Works said immediately. “She’s been following me for three sectors and didn’t say a thing until we got here. She probably thought I was a servitor too.”

Dusk groaned and rubbed his head with a wing. “Okay, look: I’m not really in a position to turn down extra help from somepony who actually knows what we’re doing here. But if you come along, you’re going as a SOLDIER. You follow orders and you answer questions. No arguing, no lies, and no mystical ambiguity. Understood?”

“Of course, my dear Lieutenant,” Penumbra purred. Her tail swung gently back and forth as she spoke, and Dusk immediately felt a chill crawl down his spine.

“Also – I felt like this should go without saying but I should make sure – no flirting when we’re in the field. Keep your hooves to yourself, understand?”

Penumbra tilted her head to the side, still grinning. “Absolutely! I can think of LOTS of loopholes to that.”

Dusk glared at her for a few seconds, and then looked over to Gear Works. “Gears? Do you know where we can get one of those shock collars they use for the slaves?”

“ALL RIGHT OKAY I GET IT PLEASE DON’T,” the unicorn yelped, her sultry, teasing demeanor breaking in an instant. “No more fooling around! I promise! I just want to help!”

“I don’t believe you, but you would be a lot of help and your real goal is probably aligned with ours anyway. Bringing you along is likely worth the headache,” Dusk decided, much to Penumbra’s relief. “You’re in, Shard.”

“Dagger Squad! Group one, get going! Your lift is on pad 5! Venom Squad, you’re with them! Five minutes until liftoff!” came a shout from outside.

Dusk perked his ears. “All right, we should be next.”

“So how exactly is this going to work now? Isn’t this supposed to a dark ditch?” Nacht asked.

“It is!” Dusk confirmed. “For those of you unfamiliar, dark ditches are high-speed deployments where transport aircraft dump a squad of bat ponies out the back in mid-air at night! It’s generally not done with non-flyers, but you’ll have grav chutes and the terrain shouldn’t be too challenging!”

“I need to get Icebreaker ready,” Zariyah grumbled, moving to the back of the Stider. “These technicians, they cover her with hoses and chains and such and then leave, and it always takes too long to disconnect everything.”

Gear Works looked up at her while she bit onto a hose and tried to wrench it loose, and then he started walking toward a cogitator on the far wall. Neuron Dialect watched him, her eyes glinting bright red from beneath her hood.

“Isn’t a dark ditch supposed to be pretty dangerous for other ponies?” Nacht said, briefly eyeing Penumbra. “Most pegasi are bad at it even with night fighting gear, and they can at least fly. We’re not going to have a deployment beacon and the Company outpost is some twenty miles from the drop zone if they get lost in the dark.”

“That’s true! Nice to see SOMEPONY reviews the battle plans,” Dusk said, coughing. “Look, I’m not going to mince words: this is going to be dangerous. We’re going to have to look out for our grounded allies. Although I should remind you all that Shard’s survival is not mission-critical.”

Penumbra recoiled with a gasp, looking appropriately offended. Across the room, Gear Works reached the console and activated it with a tap of his hoof. The holo-screen booted up and then vanished just as quickly as he navigated the menus at the speed of thought.

“And on that topic: it might sound like a drag, or even starkly unfair, but I’m telling each one of you now: Gear Works is the critical asset. He must reach the objective zone in one piece, and then he must get out of there ALIVE,” Dusk pressed. “When we’re in the field you look out for our Techpriest. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Lieutenant!” Gloom Fang and Nacht replied.

“He’s only a Dark Acolyte,” Neuron Dialect corrected while nodding her head.

“Now don’t YOU start.”

A startled yelp came from the mare atop the Strider, and Dusk glanced behind him. The hoses that were attached to the Strider were popping out of the ports of their own volition, dropping down to the floor and then rolling back up out of the way. The chains securing the Strider from the deck and ceiling broke off their mag-locks, and a loud rattling filled the garage as they were withdrawn into their respective winch drums. The ladder on the side of the walker dropped into a slot in the floor and the platform slowly sank until it was level with the rest of the garage. Several yellow lumens turned green, indicating that the vehicle bay was no longer in use.

Gear Works turned from garage console. “Pilot Backfire, I’ve reviewed the maintenance check on your war machine, cleared it for deployment, and disengaged the refueling and safety rigging. Would you like me to employ a blessing before we depart? Perhaps something related to targeting entreaties.” The holo-screen above the cogitator was awash in unreadable data-screed, words and symbols speeding across the length of the projection.

Zariyah Backfire looked back and forth from atop the Strider, and then kicked the access lever to open the cockpit. “All right, maybe you are Dark Techpriest after all.”

“Once again, that is the wrong rank. But I am pleased to have earned your recognition,” Gears replied. “Shall we depart for the transport? They have not called for us yet but I saw that we are registered for pad 3.”

“Let’s take to the skies!” the Strider pilot said, suddenly sounding more energetic. “Maybe we will be lucky and find the fabled baticorn out in the wastes, yes? I would love to paint THAT marker on Icebreaker’s kill board. Ha HA!” She slipped down into the Strider’s body, and then the top hatch dropped down and clicked shut.

Gear Works tilted his head to the side. “The what? The baticorn? What is a baticorn?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Dusk Blade said, his eyes narrowed to slits as he glared at Nacht. “Just a dumb rumor that some dumb pony has been spreading among the line troops, that’s all.”

Nacht said nothing, her ears pinned down and sweat beading on her face. Gloom Fang was also giving her a stern look, but Penumbra was giggling into a hoof. Neuron didn’t seem to be paying attention, watching silently as the Strider trotted across the garage.

“I… I see,” Gears mumbled, shifting one sidelong optical light to focus on the black thestral. “Well I hope someone comes up with a better name for it if the rumor spreads further. Shall we go?”

Dusk Blade took a deep breath, his wings pushing his optics visor down over his eyes. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

More of the DARK TRUTH revealed!
Will Dagger Squadron succeed? Will Gear Works survive this violent endeavor? Will Penumbra get any (no)

Got some good images for this one. The first picture of Neuron Dialect is by Dorkmark (please ignore that the grass does not match the narrative setting). The second of Zariyah Backfire and her Strider is by Adagio String.

Here's another great picture of Neuron, again by Dorkmark

And a prototype design for Penumbra Shard, done by the infamous Beardie

That's all I have for you today! Stay tuned for more terrible, awful ponies and the evil space pirates who love them

Nightwatch – The Elements of Destruction
By SFaccountant

Chapter 3
Dark Ditch

Badlands
Geolocation redacted

“So that’s the plan. The first part of the plan, anyway. The Orks have seismic pylons they looted while the DarkMech was prospecting here, and they have the data we need on what the local deep cave network looks like. Assuming the Orks haven’t completely torn them apart for extra armor plates or something.” Dusk explained, standing in front of a holo-screen map of the badlands. “Of course, we’re going in dark, literally and figuratively. We don’t have any good recon in this area.”

“And the mission to GET reconnaissance on the area is the one you’re skipping so we can get to this secret other objective,” Gear Works mentioned from the other side of the holo.

“Yeah. Well, kind of. We ARE getting data on the region, so really you can think of it as an extension of the original mission.” Dusk paused briefly, and then coughed into a hoof. “By the way, Gears: you are not to transmit any of the data we gather on the Orks’ location or the recovered subterranean mapping to anyone outside Dagger Squad. Not until I allow it, anyway.”

“That is against operational protocol,” Gear Works said, his sensor lights narrowing.

“Your mom is against operational protocol,” Nacht interjected. She was laying against Penumbra Shard’s side, and the unicorn snort-laughed at the comment.

“Nacht, quit it,” Dusk snapped.

“What? I’m not allowed to rib the nerd a little bit?”

“Not if that’s the best you can do, no. 2 out of 10. If you’re going to bully our support, at least be clever about it. You’re embarrassing me.”

The Valkyrie shuddered as it encountered turbulence, and the pitch of the engines changed while it adjusted its speed. Each bat pony perked and swiveled their ears, instinctively trying to collect information on their surroundings by the changing noise.

A vox link spat a burst of static, and then Zariyah’s voice came through the console. “The winch is rattling an awful lot out here! Are we nearing drop zone?”

“No Backfire, just some turbulence. Sit tight,” Dusk ordered. “We still have a little while.”

“I still do not understand why we cannot make normal landing!” the Strider pilot complained. “It is in dead of night and the green filth have no idea we approach! Would take at most two minutes!”

“You’d be surprised by how much ground a bored Ork patrol or scavenger team can cover in two minutes when they hear a gunship descending in the distance. These tubs make a LOT of noise,” Dusk replied, his voice grim.

“Yeah, and baticorns can fly and probably hear as well as we can!” Nacht added, twitching her ears. “Maybe even better! It’s really dangerous to make too much noise!”

“Baticorn? Why are you talking about baticorns?” the Strider pilot asked. “I thought that was a silly rumor! Why would there be bat pony alicorn, and why would such a creature want to harm us?”

“No idea, Backfire! Just ignore Nacht, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Dusk said, glaring hard at the smaller thestral. “I know this isn’t the kind of deployment you’re used to, but we’ll get you on the ground soon enough.”

“So as long as we’ve got a few minutes, you want to tell us your story, metalhead?” Gloom Fang asked, staring suspiciously at Gear Works. “Did you cut off your legs as a sacrifice to the Machine God or what? How does a pony become a Techpriest?”

“He’s just an Acolyte,” Neuron Dialect interjected before Gears could. She promptly fell silent again, her eyes hidden under the rim of her hood.

“Miss Dialect is correct, of course,” Gears said with a nod, “but that aside I feel like we shouldn’t breeze past the Lieutenant insisting I withhold mission data from the 38th Company.”

“Okay, then let’s address it head-on,” Gloom agreed. “You’re going to do exactly what he says, and you’re not going to bring up ‘protocol’ again. How’s that sound?”

Gears’ optical lights blinked off and on again. “That does not sound viable. I am not under Lunar Guard command, but am assisting your mission on orders from my own division. Protocol is the reason I’m here. Of course I’m not going to abandon it at your request.”

Dusk just groaned, but the other bat ponies clearly didn’t like that answer. Nacht stood up, a dangerous look in her eyes, Neuron lifted her gun upright with her wing, and Gloom made an intense growling noise that Gears had never heard from a pony before.

“You’re new here, friend. It’s understandable. But in the Lunar Guard we do things a bit differently.” Penumbra Shard interrupted, her voice smooth as silk.

The thestrals hesitated at her voice, and she made a brief gesture with her hoof. They all relaxed immediately, but had their disdainful eyes fixed on Gear Works. Dusk bristled, but he didn’t interrupt as the Moon Mage continued.

“Out here, in the battlefield under the gleaming stars, the bonds of harmony and friendship don’t amount to much,” she said tenderly, like a mother giving a sensitive lesson to a colt. “And silly rules made up by lazy apes sleeping peacefully while we’re dropped into a warzone account for much less. Follow our leader, young Acolyte, and you may yet see the dawn. Your protocols and machines will not protect you here.”

Gear Works blinked again, his ears slowly pinning back against his head. “… Why are you speaking as if we’re not being carried into the warzone by one of those very machines, guided by a human pilot? You know he can hear all of this, right?”

The thestrals suddenly looked alarmed, but Penumbra snickered into a hoof. “Oh, my dear little Acolyte… you don’t really… really think that… um…” her smile twitched slightly, and beads of sweat started appearing on her forehead. “… You’re being serious? He really heard everything we’ve said?”

“He did. As did I,” Zariyah’s voice volunteered over the vox. “You know I am also in human machine that will be protecting you, yes? What are you going on about?”

“Wh-What?! How?!” Gloom yelped, visibly nervous now. “Everyone’s been listening in on us?! Can they do this all the time? How do we turn it off?!”

Gears silently levered his servo arm toward the console generating the hololith map and flicked off a switch. A few lumens on the console switched from green to red. Dusk sighed deeply, scooted over next to Gear Works, and then placed a hoof on his shoulder.

“So, one of the important things you have to know about the Lunar Guard is that, generally speaking, we are NOT smart,” he admitted in a regretful tone. “We do our best to hide it by being grim and mysterious, but my entire unit is rock stupid. Darkwind has been here for months but she still gets nervous around automatic doors because she thinks there are little creatures in the walls opening them for us. Mist Breaker is functionally illiterate. Silver Sting is pretty clever in some ways but she cannot do any math more complex than subtraction. Seriously, if you say the word ‘percent’ she starts hissing like an angry cat.”

Nacht pouted and Gloom winced. Neuron found something intensely interesting to stare at on the hull of the Valkyrie. Penumbra coughed into a hoof, rebuilding her earlier demeanor of amused confidence.

“The Lieutenant exaggerates, of course,” the Moon Mage chuckled. “Most thestrals were considered outcast until several years ago and grew up in caverns scrounging for food every day. It’s understandable that they have a less… erudite outlook than those ponies who walk in the sunlight.”

“The Moon Mages are pretty stupid too,” Dusk assured Gears.

“WHAT?!” Penumbra jumped upright, a furious scowl on her face. “I’m not going to be called stupid by somepony like you! You spent your life up until now hunting roaches in the depths for food and stealing scraps from farmhouses! I went to university!”

“You didn’t graduate, though,” Dusk countered.

“I would have if my professor hadn’t died!”

“Sure. And whose fault is that?”

Penumbra and Dusk locked eyes, growling at each other, and Nacht made a whimpering sound. The other thestrals looked around at the gunship interior, like they were suddenly deeply fascinated by the levers and cables. Gear Works looked increasingly distressed as well, his optical lights tilting toward an outward slant.

“ANYWAY,” Penumbra Shard huffed, suddenly breaking eye contact and dropping back down next to Nacht, “the skills of my thestral siblings may differ from that of our ‘enlightened’ brethren, but they are not lesser. It hardly needs to be said that Equestrian society has found ample use for ponies who hunt their prey at night. We each have our own talent and part to play and the group becomes stronger for it. And THAT is more important than petty protocols and tedious doctrines.”

“… I want to know who’s fault it is that your professor died,” Gears replied, his ears pinning back. “Was it you? Is that why you were unable to graduate?”

The vox suddenly crackled, much to the unicorn’s relief. “We’re coming up on the deployment area, Dagger Squad. Prepare for drop. Remember that we’ll be comms dark out here until you reach the waypoint alpha. If you turn on a distress signum the only thing to pick it up out there are the Orks and the Strider squadrons, and the Orks will probably get there first.”

“Yeah, I think we know better than to expect the evil Chaos space pirates to launch a rescue mission for us, but thanks,” Nacht replied.

“Of course. May the dark gods guide your fire and the blood of the greenskins flow like rivers,” the pilot continued.

“Yeah, great, guiding rivers, cool,” Gloom Fang said, leaning toward the vox caster. “Hey, quick question: do you guys ALWAYS listen in on your passengers’ conversations?”

“Yes,” the pilot replied breezily. “Disengaging the ramp in T-minus thirty! Watch out for baticorns down there!” Another static burst came from the vox unit before the connection was finally cut.

“Nacht, I swear to the stars…” Dusk growled.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” she wailed. “I didn’t know the vox was on!”

“Shard, metalhead, you got your grav chutes?” Gloom Fang asked.

“Affirmative,” Gears replied, poking his servo arm at the plasteel boxes strapped to both sides of his body. “I’m slightly concerned about the lack of thrusters on this unit, however. It’s generally considered an important feature of the device.”

“Yeah, and having wings is generally considered an important feature of aerial drops too but we’re improvising tonight I guess,” Nacht shrugged.

A clunking noise came from rear ramp, and a series of vent hatches opened up to steadily depressurize the transport bay. Then the rear ramp dropped open and the bay lumens went out. Gears was barely affected by the change in pressure and visibility given his mask and optical veil, but the thought of leaping out the gunship in mid-flight still made the remnants of his stomach turn.

“SEE YA ON THE GROUND, NERDS!!” Nacht bellowed, suddenly sprinting out the back and leaping into the air with a whoop.

Penumbra laughed and raced after her, showing admirable enthusiasm for a pony without wings. She leapt out into the sky and promptly dropped out of sight. A brief magical glow pulsed from below a second later.

Neuron Dialect trotted out to the embarkation ramp without a fuss, stopping at the edge and then dropping down after the others. A loud clunk came from below a second later, suggesting that the Strider had been released. It too carried a grav chute for the drop, although the Strider’s size was very near the upper bounds of what the device could safely deliver.

“Gears? You want me to jump with you?” Dusk offered, poking a hoof toward the ramp.

“Uh, well… I suppo-“ Gears was suddenly shoved from behind, and he yelped in terror as he stumbled toward the exit.

“Down we go! No turning back now, dweeb!” Gloom Fang laughed, jumping forward and planting a hoof on Gear’s back.

“Gloomy! Wait, don’t-“ Dusk shouted, jumping forward himself a little too late.

Gear Works squeaked in fright as Gloom Fang shoved him down the ramp. Unsurprisingly, the biggest pony in the group was also quite strong, easily launching Gears off into the air while also leaping out himself. Dusk scrambled after them, bolting out of the transport bay and into the night sky right before the Valkyrie gunship started to bank for a turn.

Gears, naturally, plummeted like a rock, flailing his hooves in a panic while a whimpered string of Binaric cant from his mask. His servo arm, rattling dangerously among the robes flapping in the wind, clamped down on the sides of the grav-chute. A second later it activated, and both boxes lit up with a strange yellowish glow as they started to slow his descent.

“GLOOMY!!” Dusk barked, promptly spotting the other thestral stallion with the shout. “What the fang was that?! Are you trying to get somepony killed?!”

Gloom was descending with the other bat ponies, and he seemed startled to be yelled at. Below the other members of Dagger Squadron Penumbra was slowly floating down to the ground, kicking her feet lazily like she was swimming. Her grav-chute was thrumming away, rendering her effective weight feather-like, but the Moon Mage surely could have arrested her descent through her magic anyway.

“What’s the problem? He’s fine!” Gloom Fang protested, pointing a hoof down at the pony in question.

Gear Works was upside-down and making very unhealthy wheezing noises, but at a glance it appeared that Gloom Fang was right. The grav-chute was active and the Dark Acolyte was visibly slowing in his fall. Dusk narrowed his eyes and turned back to his subordinate.

“Don’t ‘what’ me! You know EXACTLY what you did wrong!” Dusk barked angrily. “This isn’t the Nightwatch locker room, idiot! We’re on a mission here! No hazing or ‘kidding around’ that involves pushing our support into potentially lethal falls!”

“I really don’t see what the big deal is,” Gloom replied with a snort. “He was going to have to jump eventually, right? Who cares if I did it for him rather than you goading him like a foal?”

Gear Works, unable to control his path of descent in any meaningful way, struck the top of the Strider on his way down, yelping in surprise. Thanks to the grav-chute the impact didn’t hurt very badly, but one of the pieces of the device struck a protruding hook used for carrying cargo and soldiers. The plasteel box was torn off, and Gear Works went spiraling away into the darkness at a much faster pace.

“No big deal?! You think it’s FUNNY to terrorize our Techpriest support?! You think it won’t matter whether he trusts us when we’re on mission and we need his help?!” Dusk shouted.

“I do believe both those things, yeah. You don’t?” Gloom asked.

“I also agree it’s pretty funny but you have a point about us needing to work with him,” Nacht admitted, “I vote for not picking on the Nerdpriest anymore.”

“It’s not a VOTE! I’m giving you orders!” Dusk shouted. “Leave our Techpriest alone!”

“He’s just a Dark Acolyte,” Neuron Dialect reminded him, “and I think half of his grav-chute broke.”

“What?!” Dusk whirled around in the air.

“You keep calling him a Dark Techpriest but that-”

“NOT THAT! WHERE IS HE?! WHAT HAPPENED?!” Dusk shouted, searching for the glow of the grav-chutes among the darkness.

His echolocation only detected the ponies hovering nearby and the Strider below; apparently Gears had descended or strayed too far for him to pick up that way. Once he spotted the dim yellow blob in the distance, Dusk pulled his wings closed and dove downward without another word. The other thestrals quickly moved to follow him, while Penumbra just kissed her hoof and waved.

“See you at the bottom, sweeties!” the Moon Mage chirped, not obviously distressed by the sudden emergency.

Dusk Blade growled as the wind whipped through his mane and tail, focusing everything on the distant light. As he understood it the grav-chute would still work well enough with one unit to let a pony survive the landing, but it would dramatically affect the angle of descent, scattering him far from the intended drop zone. This would be bad enough on a drop in broad daylight, to a staging area far from the enemy, but at night during an insertion directly into Ork-held territory it was much, much worse.

“I can’t see him! Does anypony see him?!” Dusk shouted as the light seemed to fade away.

“He landed,” Neuron replied, her voice barely loud enough to hear over the rush of air surrounding them. “… Or crashed.”

“Why didn’t you tell me something was wrong right away?!” the Lieutenant demanded.

“You were busy yelling at us. If I interrupted you would have been mad,” she replied.

“WELL I’M PRETTY MAD NOW, NEURO!!”

Dusk sensed the ground was approaching fast, and he flipped backward and spread his wings, rapidly shifting into a glide. The other bat ponies did the same, their training taking over. They mapped out the terrain from the reflected noise of Dusk’s shouting, identifying the scattered objects below and finding the best potential cover and most likely vector for an enemy interception.

Gloom Fang shrieked, his voice aimed at a particular outcropping and resonating in a signal that stood out like a beacon to the other thestrals. Nacht and Neuron immediately adjusted their glide paths, following the stallion to the landing zone he had picked out. Dusk Blade ignored it, flapping his wings to gain altitude and turning on his night vision optics.

A vast web of large wooden vines stretched over the ground from a series of pits, like tentacles reaching out from an aquatic den under the sea. Big splinter-like needles, each of them as long as a bayonet blade and looking nearly as sharp at the tip, decorated the network, creating a deadly-looking carpet. Surely the vines protected more than one nest of nasty wasteland animals as well as being a serious hazard on its own, and Dusk’s panic increased as he flew over it.

“GEARS!! GEARS, WHERE ARE YOU?!” he shouted, his eyes and ears searching for any signs of ruptured spikes or scattered mechanical parts.

Suddenly he found it: a pincer claw sticking up out of the treacherous, curling roots. Dusk swooped down on the location, alighting on one of the spikes and stooping over the claw.

“Gears! Gears, speak to me!” Dusk begged.

“… I am not well,” the Dark Acolyte replied weakly.

It was hard to tell through the low-light optics and echolocation whether there was blood splashed on the vines below, but it would have been truly remarkable for the tech-cultist to have landed without cutting himself to some extent. Currently Gear Works was laying crosswise on a vine, with his servo arm clamped onto a spine jutting out above him. Below him, in the underbelly of the thorn patch, Dusk sensed something moving.

“Okay, look, can you hold that position? If I go get Shard I’m pretty sure she can levitate you out,” Dusk offered.

A crack came from the spike held by the servo arm. A loud creak came from the vine under Gear Works. A strangled whimper came from the Dark Acolyte.

“That sounded like a ‘no’ to me, so plan B is for me to scream for the others to get…” Dusk trailed off, his ears twitching and pivoting about. “Oh you have GOT to be kidding me!”

The rumble of an overcharged engine rolled over the hills, and Dusk soon spotted the high-beams from an Ork Trukk zipping across the hard-packed ground. It was still some distance away and Dusk had no reason to think that they had heard him calling for Gears, so he had to assume they had seen the glow of the grav-chutes in the air. The vehicle was racing along the empty flats around the vine cluster, and as far as he could tell there was no plausible entry point for such a vehicle.

“Okay, we have Orks. Not a huge surprise. Maybe they’ll just-” Dusk was promptly interrupted by the sound of machine gun fire coming from the incoming vehicle. “Fine, no shouting for help. Shouting would be bad. Plan C it is.”

“What is plan C?” Gear Works gasped.

“Still working on it,” Dusk admitted.

The Trukk revved its engine louder, speeding up and edging closer to one of the larger thorn-covered roots lying beside its path. Its big shoota blazed away in uneven bursts, cutting jagged tears into the enormous vines.

“They’re not shooting at us, right?” Gears whimpered while he tried in vain to climb up higher.

“Yeah, that’s right. They haven’t located us yet,” Dusk whispered back. He jumped onto the vine above Gear Works and grabbed onto his servo arm as best he could. “Everything’s gonna be okay, buddy. They can’t find-”

A peal of deep, guttural laughter came from the passing Trukk, and then a pair of burnabomms were hurled from the passenger cab onto the strange roots. The charges exploded on impact, blooming into bright clouds of flame that clung to the dry wood of the vines and quickly began to spread. Dusk’s ears pinned back and he resisted the urge to scream.

“Okay, I know what plan C is now.”

“Wh-What?”

“I’m going to try to soften your drop to the ground. When you’re on your hooves again, we’re cutting East. Do NOT stop, even if you see something dangerous in front of you. Copy?”

“Machine God preserve me,” Gear Works gasped, doing a quick check on the height of the fall. Five meters. Quite survivable. “On your mark, Lieutenant.”

Another burst of machine gun fire boomed through the night, and Dusk took a deep breath. “All right: Three. Two. ONE!”

The servo arm released the spine and Gears slipped down the side of the root, releasing himself to the merciless grip of gravity. Dusk kept his grip on the mechanical pincer and kicked off the vine, plummeting along with him. His wings beat desperately, slowing their fall, and then Dusk let go a second before Gears reached the ground.

Gear Works grunted at the impact, but the sound was lost among a series of thick, disturbing crunching noises. His optics could see dozens of crawling and slithering things bolt away from him in the darkness, but he ignored them as best he could and surged upright. Pain bloomed in his rear leg (the organic one, naturally), but in the panic of the moment he couldn’t tell if he had been bitten by something or just cut himself on a rock during the fall.

“This way! Come on!” Dusk shouted, skimming over the ground ahead of the cyborg. His voice rendered the path ahead for his echolocation, marking out low-hanging spines and muffled areas that were probably wrapped in webbing.

A serpent with a body thicker than his leg rose from the darkness, its eyes glinting. Dusk doubled his speed, charging straight forward with an ear-rending shriek. He twisted into a corkscrew turn, and the blades on his hooves lashed out and sliced a serious gash through the creature’s scaly hide.

“AAAAAAAAAAAH!!” Gears charged through after the thestral, howling in terror the entire time. The serpent, already reeling from getting slashed, released a sharp hiss of pain as its tail was trampled.

“You jerks! What was that for?!” it cried, whimpering and slithering away into the shadows.

“Oh, hey, some of these things can talk. Interesting,” Dusk mumbled before punching his hoofblades into a needlessly large spider and ripping open both the arachnid and the sheet of webbing behind it. “We’ve got a tunnel up ahead! Keep moving!” Forced under an especially low cluster of spines, Dusk finally landed in a run, his wings spread but held low.

Gears finally ceased wailing long enough to check where they were going, his optic lights expanding to take in as much light as possible. Unlike Dusk he could rely on complex night vision rather than sonar, and his more detailed view of the entrance let him see that the debris piled around it were mostly large bones. The Dark Acolyte didn’t have a greatest sense of wilderness survival, but as his gaze wandered over a skull that definitely looked equine in form he was able to draw a few logical inferences.

“Lieutenant, I believe that’s a large predator’s nest!”

“Probably, yeah!” Dusk swatted some kind of spiny-shelled beetle out of the air with his wing. “That’s good! None of these little creeps will follow us in there!”

“And the predator?”

“You let ME handle it! Nothing in here is scarier than the fire spreading on top of this place or the Orks shooting up everything that moves and a bunch of stuff that doesn’t!” Dusk insisted, racing into the tunnel without hesitation.

Gears wasn’t quite so confident, but the reasoning made sense and he was anyway inclined to trust Dusk’s experience. He tucked his servo arm closer to his body and charged after the thestral with a brief, anxious groan, breaking a skull under his bionic hoof in the process.

The tunnel was cramped, but the space was blessedly free of spines, webbing, and other creatures. It wound up and down and from side to side in seemingly random patterns, although Gears assumed the paths shifted to avoid rocks and large roots. Every once in a while there was another tunnel that crossed through to form an intersection, but other than slowing to check for anything waiting in ambush Dusk ignored the potential detours.

“We don’t have a lot of time before the fire above starts sucking all the oxygen out of here,” Dusk informed him. “You’d probably handle that pretty well, but my mask just filters air, it doesn’t provide any. This should take us to the edge of this vine patch or whatever it is, and then we can sneak out while the Orks are shooting at nothing.”

“Why would you assume this tunnel has an exit outside this vine growth? Your echolocation can extend that far?”

“No, but those skulls at the entrance weren’t from creatures that live down here,” the bat stallion explained. “So it’s definitely getting food from somewhere topside, and therefore it needs an access point!”

“I see! And we’re still generally unconcerned with what or where this beast is?”

“Not totally! But it’s definitely low-priority!” Dusk replied. “Since we’re on the subject: stay sharp! It might show up to defend its egg cache!”

“What egg cache?” Gears asked, right before Dusk stopped ahead of him. “Oh.”

Sure enough, the tunnel widened into a large round chamber, and scattered within that chamber were numerous eggs. Each one was the size of a pony’s head and was half-buried in the dirt, creating an awkward obstacle course before the next section of the tunnel. Dusk jumped into the air and simply flew over all of them, but Gears started picking his way across carefully so as not to step on any of the eggs.

“What are you doing?” Dusk demanded, looking back over his shoulder. “C’mon, just charge through! We don’t have time for this!”

“I’m not going to just trample a nest belonging to some unseen apex predator!” Gears hissed back, still stepping between the (presumably) fragile orbs.

“Gears, everything down here is going to be broiled alive soon and whatever laid these things obviously isn’t here to get mad about it!” the thestral retorted. “Let’s just… wait. Did you hear that?”

Gear Works froze, his front right hoof quivering just inches from the ground. He didn’t hear anything, in fact, but was well aware that bat ponies’ ears were far more sensitive than his. Sweating fearfully, his optics sensors spread out, analyzing the surrounding chamber for any hints of movement.

A bit of dirt fell from the tunnel’s ceiling onto Dusk Blade’s head, and his ear flicked it away. “It… kinda sounds like-“

The wall of the tunnel suddenly burst open, and Gears released a squeal of fright as Dusk vanished behind a mass of rapidly moving scales. It happened so fast that he didn’t realize what he was looking at until the body moving across the width of the tunnel tapered to a claw-tipped tail and then disappeared into the newly burrowed hole. The sound of rapidly churning earth faded away, leaving only a few bits of crumbling dirt dropping from the ceiling tunnel in its wake.

Gear Works didn’t dare to speak as he crossed the rest of the nesting chamber, being even more careful than before not to step on the eggs. Once he reached the compromised tunnel, he stopped and slowly leaned forward into the freshly-dug tunnel intersection, peering into the earthen tube where his “friend” had been carried into.

“… Lieutenant? Was… Was that a giant rockwurm? … Hello?” Gears said, his voice a trembling croak. He felt numb at the prospect that Dusk had been killed and eaten in front of him, and the wider implications were rapidly sorting themselves out in his thoughts beneath the sense of horror, sorrow, and panic.

Perhaps he could find his way out on his own, but could he really evade the Orks without a stealth and combat specialist to lead the way? What would happen when he found the rest of Dagger Squadron and informed them that their commander had perished trying to rescue him? Assuming they didn’t tear his throat out, was the mission even possible without Dusk? What if the burrowing monster came back for the other intruder?

“Lieutenant…” Gears whimpered again.

“You’re still here! Good!” Dusk said from behind him.

Gears screamed, jolting in surprise and nearly tripping into the tunnel he had been staring into. “Wh-What?! How did you-“

“I stabbed it in the tongue. It’s real mad now, so we should probably keep moving,” Dusk said, giving the Dark Acolyte a gentle shove in the direction they had been traveling.

“But even if you-“ Gear Works started to protest, only to receive another, less gentle shove.

“Gears, you don’t need to believe me about how I escaped but you DO need to believe me about the critter being mad and not dead! Let’s GO!” the thestral barked.

This argument was convincing enough that Gear Works bolted, moving into a gallop as quickly as he could. Dusk was right behind him, his ears straining to pick up the sound of shifting dirt. The bat pony soldier had been caught badly off-guard, unaware of how quickly something that large could dig through solid ground and how odd its approach sounded to his senses. He wouldn’t let it surprise him again.

Gears twisted his head enough so that a peripheral sensor could see the other stallion, and he did a minor scan as they made their escape. Dusk’s armor was scored and cracked in several places, but not fully penetrated. He was also damp with some kind of acidic slime; not strong enough to be a threat to his armor or equipment, but hopefully he hadn’t gotten any in his eyes.

Dusk Blade had definitely been bitten, and probably even swallowed by that rockwurm. He had probably stabbed it in the tongue to get out like he said, if only because Gears couldn’t imagine a more likely way he could have gotten free. But how had he escaped the monster and returned so quickly without using the tunnel he had been carried off into?

Gear Works supposed it didn’t really matter. The Lieutenant had survived and most of his fears about proceeding alone were put to rest. Not all of them, of course, given that the burrowing predator was still alive, very upset, and almost certainly hungry after its previous meal managed to flee.

“Below! It’s coming from below!” Dusk shouted suddenly.

Gear Works wailed in terror, mostly for lack of any other options. Dusk jumped toward him and spun around in the air, landing his back hooves on Gear’s flank. Then he kicked as hard as he could, hurling the cyborg stallion ahead while launching himself in the opposite direction.

The ground between the ponies burst upward in that split second, and a trio of jaw parts snapped closed on nothing. Dusk back-flipped and landed on his hooves, releasing a brief, loud shriek to seize the creature’s attention. The giant rockwurm’s neck bent to face the bat pony, and its tripartite mouth yawned open.

“Not this time, freak!” Dusk shouted, firing his splinter rifle into the beast’s open mouth.

A dozen toxic crystal shards sunk into the exposed flesh of the wurm’s inner mouth, setting its nerves alight with agony. It shut its jaws and recoiled, releasing a quivering groan from its enormous throat. Dusk fired another burst at its body, but only one or two splinters managed to penetrate its tough, mud-caked hide.

A strange noise came from the other side of the rockwurm, like a spearhead punching into the side of a tree. The monster groaned again and began to sink back into its emergence hole, evidently pushed into retreat. Its massive tube body twisted back and forth, loosening the ground around and beneath its body, and then the giant wurm slipped back into its hole.

“Hah! Not so tough when I know you’re coming!” Dusk taunted, darting over the new pit in the floor.

He was about to yell at Gears to get up and run, but stopped and stared instead. Gear Works was already standing and gasping heavily through his respirator, trying to get a grip on his panic. His tail was held aloft, quivering in the air and curled sharply around his right flank to point forward. The dataspike at the end had blood on it.

“Hot dang, pony! Did you actually STAB that thing?” Dusk asked.

“Y… Yes? Was… that wrong?” Gears asked hesitantly.

“No! No, it was very right! Just kind of out of character for you,” the other stallion explain before rushing ahead down the tunnel.

“Well I HAVE been in combat situations before, much to my chagrin,” Gears grumbled, his demeanor returning to a state somewhat closer to normal.

“Yeah, no, I get it! Way to go, bud!” Dusk Blade cheered. “I know you have more guts than you let on, but it’s still kind of surprising each time it shows. Any Ork that gets too close to you is gonna lose an eye! Ha!”

Gear Works grimaced, his tail rubbing the spike against his robe and twisting in an effort to clean it off. “The dataspike is a weapon of desperation, Lieutenant. This is not its primary function, and damaging the tip WILL degrade its utility when interfacing with proper machines. A function I believe we require to complete your mission.”

“Right! Yes! Excellent point! You have our priorities straight!” Dusk agreed. “The exit’s just a little farther, around the next bend! We’re almost back in action!”

Dusk Blade rounded the corner, and sure enough there was a hole framed by giant bramble thorns up ahead. He whooped for joy, creating another pulse of sound to help identify any potential threats skulking about the exit, but the reverberations spotted nothing of interest. Lowering his head and closing his wings, the thestral officer prepared for a high-speed escape.

“What’s that light coming from?” Gear Works asked.

Dusk slowed immediately and cracked his eyes open. The tunnel had been totally dark, naturally, to the point that Dusk had just closed his eyes while he ran and fought to better protect from irritants and avoid any sensory confusion. Looking outside the tunnel exit, he could see a bright spotlight being cast against the ground from an elevated position. He had almost run right into it.

“Well that’s weird,” the bat pony grunted. “Looks like a trap.”

“I believe that is a vehicular search lumen,” Gears pointed out.

“Do Striders have those? Could be Backfire’s.”

“Striders do have those, yes. However, I am not detecting any friendly IFF signums within a radius of 200 meters. I do not think it is Miss Backfire.”

Dusk stopped to think for a few seconds, and then reached up for one of the large spines reaching into the tunnel from around the exit. He jammed a blade into the base and then broke it off from the greater vine, leaving him with a shard of wood nearly the size of his leg. Then he gently tossed the spike out into the beam of light.

Heavy machine gun fire instantly greeted the movement, and the entire space in front of the tunnel was raked over with bullets. The ponies yelped and hugged the walls, watching nervously as some of the less accurate shots struck the dirt path between them.

“The Orks! Of course! Why would I think we were almost home free?” Dusk grumbled.

“I don’t understand! How did they find us? Why are they going to such lengths to track us down?” Gears gasped, flinching when a bullet struck close enough to tug at his cloak.

“They didn’t, and they’re not. They probably don’t even know what we are. This is a hunting trip,” Dusk replied.

“Hunting? What?”

“For food. They find something flammable that provides lots of cover, set it on fire, then shoot and kill whatever comes out. There’s probably a couple other Trukks parked all around this patch,” Dusk grimaced as a bit of wood shrapnel scraped at his ear from a bullet impact. “It’s kind of cunning, if not stupidly wasteful. And of course we got stuck here by coincidence. Classic Orks, right?”

The gunfire finally let up, and the spotlight beam started shifting from side to side, searching for any signs of a corpse.

“What are we going to do? Go back into the tunnel and hide until they give up?” Gears asked.

“No, I’ve still got that oxygen problem I mentioned before. Plus it’s starting to get REALLY hot in here,” Dusk grumbled. “I’m gonna call in the others.”

“You mean your squad? But they don’t have vox links. How will you…?”

Dusk Blade sucked in a deep breath, and then he screeched.

The Orks waiting in the Trukk suddenly straightened as they heard a strange, high-pitched shriek come from the tunnel exit they were covering.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!”

“Da zog iz dat?” grumbled the driver, moving the spotlight up to cast its light directly into the tunnel. He couldn’t see anything from his elevated position in the Trukk’s cab, but the screeching noise did stop a moment later.

“Oi, we shood git down dere an’ find wotevah’s screemin’,” suggested a boy hanging on the edge of the Trukk bed.

“No, I told yas arredy: youz gonna scayr da food,” grumbled the gunner. He seemed quite content to wait, despite his fingers drumming on the ammo feed of the twin big shoota.

The fire had already spread over most of the huge, thorn-ridden vines that concealed their prey, lighting up the sky and blasting embers and smoke into the air. The flames were crawling closer toward the Orks and the exit they were covering, and was probably minutes away from walling off the tunnel. The aliens checked their weapons with growing impatience, annoyed that the only sighting they’d gotten so far was a chunk of wood.

“Ya arredy scayd off da food!” complained another Ork. “Youz wuz shootin’ up da dirt loik it lookd atcha funnee!”

The gunner spat over the side of the Trukk. “Shut it, ya git! Yoo wuz shootin’ too! We’z waytin’!”

The driver adjusted the spotlight again, a growl rising in his throat. “If sumfin’ dozn’t zoggin’ HAPPIN soon we’z leevin’!” he declared.

“Oi! You’z not da boss ‘ere!” the gunner shouted, standing up over his seat. “Yoo want sumfin to happin so bad?!”

Presumably he was going to make a proposition or a threat after that, but once he completed the sentence a single gunshot came from behind the Trukk. The gunner’s head pitched forward sharply, and blood splashed across the windshield as his body folded limply over the backrest of the driver’s seat.

The other Orks blinked, and then immediately started brandishing their weapons and leaping out of the Trukk.

“Oi! We gotz a fight, lads!”

“Ha! A’right! Sum akshun!”

The driver grabbed the spotlight and twisted it around, sweeping the darkness behind the Trukk in search of a target. It crossed a dark shape on the ground, and then shifted back and centered on it.

A unicorn pony mare sat out in the open, her coat a dark gray and her mane a pale, muted violet. Her cutie mark was a crescent moon nestled beneath a dark circle, and matched her coat in color well enough that it could have been mistaken for part of her coat. She didn’t flinch away as she was illuminated, and her lips curled into a smirk while magical light swirled around her horn.

“Lovely night out, isn’t it boys?” Penumbra Shard asked, her eyes pulsing while an electric arc writhed around her horn.

“A HOSS!! KILL IT!!” the Orks roared, opening fire on the lone figure.

The night sky once again filled with the rattle of unrestrained automatic gunfire, and muzzle flash joined with the light cast by the towering bonfire behind the Trukk. The bullets that came anywhere near Penumbra vanished in pulses of bright turquoise, creating colorful ripples in the air like the surface of a pond disturbed by heavy rain.

Another gunshot came from the darkness, the flash briefly outlining a dead, twisted tree where the gunner was hiding. Another Ork pitched sharply to the side, blood spattering over his mob-mates. The driver shifted the spotlight again, casting it behind the unicorn to try to find the shooter.

“Oi! Hurree up n’ krump da magik hoss so’z ya can get da dakka hoss!” the driver bellowed, kicking the dead gunner out of his seat so he could man the big shoota.

“WAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!” Three of the Orks rushed to charge the unicorn, their guns firing wildly.

Penumbra reared up, her magic swirling around her like a glowing ribbon. “I love the way blood looks in the moonlight,” she giggled while a runic circle appeared on the ground around her, “ushr kalis venu raahl!”

Another gunshot rang out from behind the unicorn. The bullet zipped through and over the sprinting Orks, punching into the Trukk’s spotlight and ripping out the back. The space around Penumbra was again blanketed in darkness, with only the barest glimmer of moonlight to illuminate her.

Whip-like tendrils of magic shot out from the ground just before the Orks reached her, slamming into two of the aliens with shocking force. The boys were thrown into the air from the impacts, and their flesh split open where the magic touched them, as if the bands of turquoise were edged with blades. The third Ork dodged out of the way through either luck or slightly better-than-average reflexes, avoiding the initial burst from the ground, but the magic curled in the air to follow him, lashing around his leg while another tendril bound an arm.

“This is the ebon vector, my favorite spell! I hardly ever get to use it, so I’m very happy to have volunteers!” Penumbra beamed while the Orks got back to their feet.

The boys once again trained their shootas on the glow of her horn, and two of the vectors crossed in front of her and flattened into a shield of force. Bullets spattered against the ghostly tendrils, each one decelerating decelerating and dropping to the ground. The entangled Ork was lifted off the ground while he thrashed, and then another of the ghostly tendrils slithered up and wrapped around his waist.

Penumbra nodded her head gently, and two of the vectors pulled down while the third, around his waist, pulled up. There was a sickening crack, and then the Ork was ripped in two amidst a shower of blood. The vectors promptly released the corpse and then slithered toward the other soldiers.

The driver grunted as he finally got the big shoota turned completely around on its mounting and aimed it. “Lessee ya majik yer way outta dis!” he shouted, just before a blade sunk into his shin.

The Ork howled angrily, but a moment later another blade punched into his side. Dusk shrieked and leapt into the air, dodging away from the driver’s attempt to punch him back. Then he dropped back down onto his target, kicking the Ork in the head.

“Lieutenant Blade! What a wonderful coincidence to find you here!” Penumbra shouted, her voice barely audible over the sound of burst fire and Ork howls.

“Yeah, wonderful! Sure!” Dusk punched his hoofblades into the driver’s throat. “Hurry up with those goons before another patrol finds out there’s a fight!”

An ebon vector wrapped around an Ork’s leg and tightened, crushing flesh and splintering bone in an instant. Another simply dove into a shoota boy like a spear, slamming him to the ground while it drilled through the alien’s chest. The mob fought back by clubbing and slashing at the tendrils, and to their credit physical attacks did seem to have some effect: vectors would bounce away from blunt impacts and even be severed by a choppa slash. Each time the tendrils would simply reform and return, however, their amorphous magical nature making them difficult to stop for long.

“Oi! It’z no gud! Leg it!” barked one soldier, kicking away a vector slithering toward his ankle. “Bakk to da Trukk!

He turned and ran, as did the two other Orks who hadn’t succumbed to Penumbra’s spell. Another gunshot came from the trees, and another of the soldiers collapsed into dust. The magical vectors were slower to follow, mostly snaking around the victims on the ground who were still alive; drilling, choking, and carving apart the aliens in a gory frenzy.

Seeing some of her foes retreat, Penumbra reared up again while more power built up around her horn. “Ah-ah-ah! You’re not getting away that easily!” she sang, falling back to the ground and pounding one hoof into the dirt.

A wave of turquoise swelled and launched from the impact, crawling across the ground much faster than the Orks could run. It passed by the retreating soldiers, and then vanished under the Trukk.

“Wait for it…” the Moon Mage said, her eyes glittering.

A huge spike of dark blue punched up through the bottom of the vehicle, tearing the Trukk in half and throwing the pieces into the air. The Orks stumbled to a stop just a few feet away, and then immediately turned back around.

“A’roit ya zoggin majik freek!” bellowed one soldier, lifting his shoota again. “Com’n git me!”

A brief, loud shriek was all the warning his got before something zipped around the towering magic spike and slammed into the back of his head, digging a pair of blades into his neck. The other Ork promptly jumped in to help, using his own shoota to club the pony off of his mobmate. He also struck the bleeding Ork in the head in the process, knocking him flat on his back, but it was still largely a success.

Dusk rolled across the ground and bounced upright, grimacing under his mask at the pain in his leg. Then he seemed to blur into the darkness, the glow from his optics goggles sinking into nothingness.

The Ork howled and fired his shoota, sawing across the ground where he had last seen the bat. Bullets kicked up waves of dust as the spray swept back and forth, emptying the rest of the magazine into the cold night air. His shoota clicked empty, and a wash of gunsmoke curled around the mouth of its barrel.

Then another gunshot rang out from behind him, and he lurched forward. The soldier wobbled briefly, his gun slipping from his fingers. Then he slumped into the spreading pool of blood at his feet.

Gear Works waited about a minute after the final discharge of a firearm before he dared to peek out from behind the boulder he was sheltering behind. He didn’t move any further, instead staring at the giant glowing spike slowly shrinking back into the ground. He hadn’t gotten a great view of the combat, but he’d caught a few glimpses of the ebon vector hurling Orks around before tearing their transport in two, and he really wanted to ensure that the spell had run its course before he approached. The tentacles must have been capable of SOME degree of autonomy in order to function as they did, after all, and he had little idea how discriminating Penumbra’s magic was.

“Gears!” Dusk yelled from behind him again. “You okay? We need to go!”

Gear Works squeaked in fright, but managed to restrain anything more before he calmed down and twisted his head around. “Are the Orks all dead? Is it safe now?”

“All the Orks from THIS mob are dead, and no, it’s not safe so we should leave immediately,” the thestral explained, landing atop the boulder. His leg was bruised from the hit he’d taken, but the pain was tolerable. “Shard! Neuro! Get over here!”

A plane of glimmering turquoise appeared to draw itself in the air in the space of two seconds; sparks ran along a sharp trapezoid-shaped geometry, leaving pulsing blue light behind before the space between them suddenly flashed and filled with energy. Penumbra trotted out of the space, her horn crackling and a lazy smile on her face.

“Shard, where are the others?” Dusk demanded.

“We were looking for the Strider when the thestrals heard you,” Penumbra explained. “I thought it would be best to finish with that in case we needed to make a quick retreat from here, so we split up.”

“Good call. Then our next objective is the Strider,” Dusk said with a nod.

“183.92 meters at 71.43 degrees relative North,” Gear Works interjected. “It is moving, but not very fast and not in this direction.”

“You can sense it from this distance? Great!” Dusk Blade’s relief and approval was evident even through the mask and goggles. “I knew you’d come in handy!”

“We only needed to bring the Strider to accommodate him to begin with,” Neuron Dialect pointed out.

Gear Works managed to keep himself from making any noise this time, but the way his tail and servo arm bounced as Neuron spoke up behind him betrayed his surprise. It didn’t really surprise or distress him that bat ponies operating in the dead of night were extremely stealthy, but there was really no reason for them to constantly approach him from behind.

Dusk didn’t seem at all surprised by Neuron’s sudden appearance, but he did seem annoyed at her commentary. “First off: did you forget the part where we need him to complete the mission? And second: we have Shard, too,” he retorted, jumping off the rock and landing in a brisk trot.

“Shard can fly,” Neuron mumbled while she and the others moved to follow.

“Yes, but I don’t really like that spell,” the Moon Mage sighed, “better we have a transport, although I’d prefer something like those Ay-Pee-Cee things the humans use rather than clinging onto a scout walker.”

“Complain all you want, but I spent a lot of leverage and favors getting us Gears and Backfire on such short notice,” Dusk sniffed, turning the glare of his optic lights on Neuron in particular. “It’s not like any other Dark Techpriest was going to agree to leap out of a gunship to help us!”

“I was quite opposed to it myself!” Gears interjected.

“And he’s a Dark Acolyte, not a Dark Techpriest,” Neuron added.

“Neuro, go dark and cover us from the trees,” Dusk said, lowering his voice without changing his pace.

A twinkling red glint was the last thing Gear Works saw before the sniper pony ducked away and vanished. He froze in place, his optics clusters centering on the space where she had disappeared and zooming in. Nothing. The space around it was perfectly visible to him, with the nearest bit of foliage several meters away and the darkness of night of little to no benefit to a pony trying to hide from his augment’s sensoria. But hide she had.

“Gears, what’s the hold-up? I need you to tell me if my heading is off!” Dusk said.

Gear Works bolted into a run, putting the mare’s suspiciously effective stealth skills out of mind. “Your heading is correct, Lieutenant. I believe the Strider is approaching us directly now, albeit slowly.”

“Backfire probably noticed the combat and is coming to get us now that it’s over. I’m sure another Ork hunting mob or two is on their way too.”

Gears glanced behind him, checking for any distant lights that may have indicated pursuit. “Is that why you told Miss Dialect to hide for tactical advantage?”

“No. I’m just tired of listening to her arguing,” Dusk sniffed, “we should be well clear of any Orks by now; even if any of them are smart enough to track us in the dark we have too much of a head start on them.”

“You know, we could just kill them too,” Penumbra offered, smiling as her eyes glimmered with magic. “I’m up for another three or four mobs.”

“No,” Dusk said firmly. “We already had a crash landing and a firefight. We’re behind schedule, both me and Gears are scuffed up, and Neuro’s down a magazine. And of course, the more Orks we kill, the more will show up looking for action. We’re going to find our Strider and move out.”

Penumbra sighed dreamily and then turned to Gear Works. “Isn’t he dashing when he’s all serious and responsible? I could just listen to him admonish me all night…”

“I must admit his demeanor on battlefield deployments is very different from the norm,” Gears replied, “it’s no wonder his squad respects him even when absolutely no one else does.”

“Hey!” Dusk complained, “That’s not true! I served on Princess Luna’s honor guard, come on!”

“It is your oft-expressed opinion that such roles are completely ornamental and select for Lunar Guard that look good, not those most capable or reliable.”

“And you DO look good, Lieutenant,” Penumbra purred.

“Shard, go dark and cover us from the shadows,” Dusk suddenly commanded.

The unicorn blinked. “I… don’t really do that.”

“Worth a shot,” the stallion grunted before he sensed the Strider up ahead.

The equine-form walker was moving in a gentle trot, it wide, circular feet pads making muted thunking noises with every step. A series of orange lights peered out from the armored box that was its head, casting just enough glow around it for anyone to see it reflecting off the lascannon barrel extending from the right side. That lascannon swung down and to the side suddenly, pointing straight at Gear Works.

The Dark Acolyte stopped, his ears perking, but otherwise didn’t seem especially bothered by having the weapon aimed in his direction. “Hello, Miss Backfire. I hope your landing was gentler than mine.” He could see two lumps atop the walker that were difficult even for his optics to identify but were definitely not part of the battlesuit’s construction; Nacht and Gloom Fang, he presumed.

“IT WENT WELL ENOUGH!” Zariyah Backfire announced through the obnoxiously loud vox caster. “THE REAR ACTUATOR-”

“Hey! HEY! Quiet down!” Dusk Blade snapped, his ears flattening against his head. “We have who knows how many Ork patrols scooting around this place looking for something to fight or eat! I don’t want another battle before we’ve even got our bearings!”

The Strider bowed its head silently, signaling its submission. Dusk snorted and then looked up higher.

“Gloomy, get down here.”

One of the dark shapes clinging to the top of the scout walker spread his wings and dove over the side. Gloom Fang landed almost noiselessly despite the heft of his armor, and then rose to stand up straight in front of his squad leader.

“Okay, now, I know what you’re thinking,” Gloom said while Dusk approached him, “but really, can we say for SURE the nerd pony wouldn’t have crashed in exactly the same way whether or not I shoved…” He stopped speaking once a hoofblade touched against his throat.

“Now Gloomy, I want you to listen REAL carefully, because I’m only going to say this once,” Dusk Blade said, his voice oozing venom and his eyes glowing a bright amber in the darkness, “dark drops are dangerous. You’re very stupid, but you know that they’re dangerous. You endangered the mission and you endangered my friend’s life. And you did it for no reason besides your brief amusement. That’s not okay.”

Gloom Fang quivered where he stood, his armor rattling slightly while beads of sweat dripped down his head and neck.

“Now, I’m not going to hurt you because this place is swarming with potential threats and I need the extra pony power. But I want you to know that if this happens again then I’m going to have to revise what the bigger threat to our mission really is. Did you get all that?” Dusk asked.

“Y-Yes, Lieutenant…” Gloom Fang whimpered.

“Good.” Dusk took his weapon away from Gloom Fang’s throat and then looked back over his shoulder. “That goes for the rest of you, too! No more bullying or hazing the Techpriest! That INCLUDES mocking him for being a nerd or being funny-looking or making weird noises or whatever! Okay? Save it until we get back to base!”

Penumbra Shard nodded solemnly, and Nacht leaned over the edge of the Strider’s back so that she was sure the others could see her nodding too. Neuron Dialect dropped down out of nowhere (Gears was quite certain he was looking in the correct direction to spot her approach, but saw nothing until she touched the ground), landing on the other side of Dusk.

“Does pointing out his correct rank count as hazing?” Neuron asked blandly.

“No, although that is ALSO getting on my nerves,” Dusk admitted.

“I appreciate it, actually. It saves me the trouble of constantly correcting the Lieutenant myself,” Gear Works admitted.

“Whatever. Everypony get aboard the walker,” Dusk ordered, his voice sounding bitter. “We should be at the site where the DarkMech deployed the seismic pylons within the hour, as long as we don’t have to creep around anymore greenskins.”

“I can help with that, Lieutenant,” Penumbra purred. “Miss Backfire, if you would?”

The Strider adjusted the spacing of its legs, and then slowly laid down onto the dirt. The bat ponies all latched onto the carrying hooks on the side, with Gloom Fang eagerly taking the opposite side from Dusk Blade. Penumbra bounded onto the Strider’s back, and Gear Works followed her up with considerably less grace, clambering up the access rails on the back.

“Is everypony ready?” Zariyah called out, her voice coming from the body of the machine rather than being amplified from the head.

“Yes. The path lay West by Northwest. Keep speed to a good trot and minimize light,” Dusk instructed.

“Don’t worry about the lights,” Penumbra said as magic started swirling around her horn.

A cloud of strange mist started to swirl around her, and then it expanded to surround the battlesuit entirely in a dome-shaped barrier. Gears was perplexed to find that the mist completely blocked his visual sensors; cycling vision modes was useless. The Strider looked back and forth as its stood back up, and then Zariyah’s voice again came from the cockpit.

“What is this barrier? I cannot see a thing ahead of me!” she complained.

“We can guide you,” Penumbra said, her eyes flashing turquoise, “the night shroud doesn’t block sound, and I can see through it. You just have to keep your head down and keep from tripping on anything.”

“Why do you have to blind me to evade the greenskins?” the pilot complained while she started moving forward. “I would rather be able to see and risk a patrol!”

“I’m sure you would,” Nacht said flatly, banging her hoof on the Strider’s thick outer plating. “We’ll all feel the shootas way before you do.”

“Backfire, listen: I know it sucks, but it really is more important that Orks be unable to spot us than it is you be able to see the route,” Dusk explained. “Speaking of which: cut left.”

The walker jerked sharply to the side, avoiding a tree that its pilot couldn’t see in time. Gears stumbled from the sudden motion, and then yelped as a stray branch struck him in the face. He might well have fallen off the back of the battlesuit entirely, but a tendril of magic gently hugged him from one side and then pushed him back into place.

“Okay, move right about 10 or so degrees… yeah, that should do it,” Dusk instructed.

Gear Works kept quiet as the vine of glowing turquoise slowly withdrew, grazing the hair of his flesh leg as it did. Penumbra Shard laid on her belly in front of him, a lazy smirk on her face while the tendril sunk into the topside of the Strider’s hull. He hadn’t had a close look at what the ebon vector could do in battle, but he’d seen enough; he didn’t dare speak until the spell’s manifestation had vanished.

“Thank you, Miss Shard. You must be a very talented magus to control both the shroud and the vector at once,” he offered.

Penumbra tittered into a hoof, her bright blue eyes gleaming in the darkness. “Oh, you flatter me! This much isn’t anything special.”

“I am… unfamiliar with the Moon Mages’ arcane profile. I’d never heard of them before tonight,” Gear Works admitted, “and when I located your personal data log in the noosphere personnel stacks, almost all of it was empty.”

“Mmmm… a bit nosy, aren’t you?” the unicorn teased. “Unfortunately if you’re curious about Moon Mages I can’t really help you. Our history is secret for a reason.”

“Can you tell me why Moon Mages are on indefinite lockdown, restricted to Nightwatch? You’re not allowed to leave without an armed escort, correct?”

“That is correct, but I’m afraid I have little else to tell you,” Penumbra sighed. “The rules placed upon us by the Company Commanders are based on mere superstition and senseless fear.”

“Also, they’re criminals,” Dusk interjected.

Penumbra’s eye twitched. Gears turned his head around and leaned over to address the bat pony clinging to the Strider below him.

“Criminals? I saw no disciplinary records among that personnel bank.”

“Of course you didn’t. They weren’t crimes against the Company. They were crimes against Equestria,” Dusk explained. His tone was completely serious, if not a bit glib. “The Iron Warriors don’t really care, of course, but their imprisonment was a condition of their recruitment.”

“Lieutenant, I know you hold this half-mechanical zealot in high esteem but I would appreciate it if you didn’t go any further with your teasing,” Penumbra said sharply. Then she coughed and turned back to Gear Works. “Lieutenant Blade isn’t completely wrong, but it’s much more complicated than that. We’re not criminals or prisoners in a literal sense.”

“… But you ARE living together under a tower and you can’t leave unless under the supervision of someone with a gun?” Gears asked hesitantly.

“Well it sounds bad when you put it like THAT, sure!” the unicorn groaned. “I prefer to think of it as having an unusually short commute to work.”

“I… suppose you don’t look or act like a penal conscript,” Gears admitted awkwardly, “but it’s strange that every other equine unit was recruited, armed, and trained by the 38th Company for their purported battlefield role. The Moon Mages alone seemed to have just… appeared one day, and are deployed sparingly. At least, as far as I could tell from the records. You’re a complete mystery.”

Penumbra smiled again, pleased at the description. “That we are… It would be nice to get more experience on the battlefield, in my opinion, but our power isn’t quite trusted, if you can believe that!”

“I can believe that,” the Dark Acolyte mumbled.

“Also they’re useless during the day,” Dusk interjected.

“Would you STOP divulging my secrets to the only pony here with an internal data transmitter?!” Penumbra snapped, leaning over the edge of the Strider while her horn crackled dangerously.

“What do you care? I’m not telling him anything the Iron Warriors don’t already know,” Dusk retorted, smiling beneath his mask. “Who do you think he’s going to tell?”

“That’s not the point!” the unicorn growled. “I don’t-”

“Shush,” Neuron Dialect said suddenly. “Incoming.”

All conversation halted, and the ponies strained to hear over the whir and thumps of the Strider’s gait. A distant rumble of engines, and getting louder. A burst of gunfire cut through the night, followed by deep, bellowing laughter. More Trukks and more Orks.

Nacht banged her hoof against the Strider’s hull. “Hey! Stop! Remain absolutely still!”

The Strider came to a stop, although there was a barely audible grumbling coming from the cockpit. Penumbra stood up, an electric arc curling around her horn. Gear Works laid down, much more nervous about being hit by stray bullets or getting thrown off during a retreat.

The Trukks raced by one by one; three of them, each one packed to the railing with Orks. The headlights didn’t stray far from the path directly ahead of the convoy, but what little light crossed the Strider’s position revealed only a pall of swirling gray dust. The Ork patrols didn’t give the phenomenon a second glance, although they did fire a few more bursts from their machine guns into the air at random.

“… Okay, we’re well out of earshot now,” Dusk said after a few minutes passed, his ears pivoting toward the tracks the Trukks had left in the dirt. “I don’t think they dropped off anything, either. All clear.”

“I think they’re heading toward where we were fighting before,” Penumbra said while the Strider started moving again.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. You could see that giant glowing spike from a mile away,” the Lieutenant replied. “That’s not too bad, though. They’ll be busy looting the dead and trying to sniff out our tracks while we’ve already passed them.” Then he banged a hoof on the Strider’s hull. “Backfire! Rock outcropping. Cut right.”

The walker shifted its heading, and Gears perked up his ears. “We should arrive at the initial deployment site of the seismic pylons shortly. I think. I assume you’ve been directing us correctly but bizarrely, this shroud also confuses mag-directional guidance.”

Penumbra tittered into her hoof again, smirking at the Dark Acolyte. “Useful, isn’t it? It can even blind scrying and detection spells!”

“As long as they don’t cast them during the day,” Dusk mumbled.

A vein popped up on Penumbra’s head. “All right, seriously, STOP THAT,” the Moon Mage demanded, her eyes flashing with magical energy while she leaned over the edge of the Strider’s body again.

“You don’t give me orders,” Dusk countered, staring up into her eyes fearlessly, “and it’s my prerogative to make sure my squad knows your weaknesses.”

“Don’t think that just because I’m hopelessly in love with you I’ll let you bully me!” Penumbra warned, her horn crackling.

“I do not think that you’re hopelessly in love with me, don’t worry,” Dusk retorted before making a gagging sound. “That’s just another dumb ploy you use to get what you want.”

“Excuse me?!” she gasped, sounding scandalized. “I’ll have you know there’s NOTHING I want more than the intimate, passionate touch of a mighty stallion! Everything else is trivial in comparison! The very idea that I would betray my feelings for something else!”

“C’mon Lieutenant! Be nice to Penny!” Nacht whined. “We never get sent on missions together!”

“Yeah, I know. She didn’t get sent on this one, either,” Dusk reminded her.

“Is THIS the thanks I get for destroying an entire Ork mob and saving you?” Penumbra complained, scrunching up her muzzle. “I didn’t come with you to be treated this way!”

“So why DID you come along?” Dusk asked.

Penumbra glared down at the Lunar Lieutenant silently, and then huffed and turned away. Nacht made a disappointed sound and climbed up on top of the Strider to sit next to the sulking unicorn, patting her on the back with her wing. Gear Works watched in silence, and then leaned over the edge again.

“Lieutenant, if you believe Miss Shard possesses an alternate mission objective, why did you not refuse her request to accompany us?” the tech-cultist asked.

“I stand by what I said then: she has her own agenda, but even so I’d rather have her help,” Dusk Blade admitted. “You’ve seen some of what she’s capable of. I’d bet she can handle any Ork or other hostile we come across… as long as it’s nighttime.”

“And don’t you forget it!” the unicorn in question interjected with a sniff. The Moon Mage was resting her chin on Nacht’s head, looking sad as the smaller mare hugged her.

“The thing is, we don’t really need her help for our mission. But I’d wager a week’s rations that she needs our help for hers,” Dusk mused. “Anyway, we’re here. That didn’t take nearly as long as I thought. Full stop, Backfire.”

The Strider slowed to a halt, and Dusk and Neuron silently disconnected themselves from the carriage hooks. They dropped to the ground with barely a sound, and then carefully exited the night shroud. Listening carefully for anything moving nearby, they advanced on a large hole that had been drilled in the center of the open space.

“Shard, it’s clear! Drop the shroud! Backfire, give us some light!” Dusk ordered.

Still looking somewhat dejected, Penumbra dispelled the cloud of magical darkness around the equine battlesuit. Zariyah, finally able to see her surroundings, turned and lowered her machine’s head to point toward the grounded bat ponies and then turned the lumens all the way up. Dusk winced away from the light, his eyes needing time to adjust. Neuron’s cybernetic vision adjusted much faster, and she started searching the ground.

The hole was about four feet across, with several divots in the ground nearby for the support struts. The ground was covered by dozens of vehicle tracks going every which way; this particular section of ground saw considerable vehicle traffic. One particular set was almost certainly the Mechanicus prospecting rig that had drilled and deployed the seismic pylon. This pair of tracks was deep and straight, running across the field with the hole spaced perfectly between them. But it wasn’t the vehicle they were here for.

“Looks like this is where they dragged it out of the pit. I see a few metal pieces dropped here. Thugs couldn’t even wait to get back to camp before dismantling it,” Dusk muttered, peering at a rougher trail that lacked the repeating groove patterns of tracks or tires. “The problem is: which vehicle took it, and which way did it go?”

Neuron Dialect stood silent, her head slowly turning back and forth. Glimmering red light peeked out from beneath her hood while she studied the tracks in minute detail and disentangled each one, determining its age and where it went. She looked up at Dusk Blade.

“How long ago was the machine seized? Do we know?” she asked.

Dusk turned around and beckoned up to the Strider. It approached slowly, its head arched down toward the Lieutenant. Then Dusk flew up and landed next to Gear Works.

“Hey, do you have any idea when this thing was taken? The report I saw didn’t list a lot of details.”

Gears paused, and then a holo-screen appeared in front of him. Data screed swam across the page while an outline of the device itself – a tall cylinder with a piston hammer under the base – hung in the corner. Gear’s eyes pulsed for a moment, and then he looked up at Dusk.

“The particular pylon installed in this location ceased transmission approximately 130 hours ago, presumably when Ork looters tore it apart for salvage,” Gear Works explained.

Dusk whirled around. “Five days ago!” he shouted down to the sniper.

Neuron stared down at the tracks, her hood obscuring her gaze while she studied the minute creases in the dirt. Dusk Blade landed on the Strider’s head, waiting patiently for her to complete her analysis. Gear Works watched her as well for a few seconds, tilted his head to the side, and then turned to look at something off to the side.

“This way,” Neuron said, raising her head and then pointing a wing Eastward.

“We’ve got a heading!” Dusk shouted, banging a hoof on the Strider’s head. “Backfire, we’re due East! Neuro, sit up here on the head. If we see the tracks branch you’ll need-” he stopped when a servo arm gently poked at his wing.

Gear Works pointed a hoof off to the side. “If you’re trying to track the Orks that made off with the pylon, I believe they went further Southwest.”

The Lunar Lieutenant blinked, and then looked off in the direction Gears had indicated. The Strider also turned its head to illuminate the path. There were several vehicle tracks leading off that way, as there were in every other direction, but the bat ponies could not see anything distinctive about them.

“What makes you think they went that way?” Dusk asked while Neuron flew up and perched behind him.

“The Orks damaged the casing badly enough that it ruptured the power cell. Its leaking radioactive material, albeit in such small quantities that it’s barely detectable,” Gear Works explained, “the trail leads off that way.”

“What does any of that mean?” Gloom Fang asked suspiciously.

“It means he can see the magic that allows the Company’s gear to work,” Nacht explained, looking somewhat smug as she did so. “It’s like how unicorns can see spells when it all just looks like colored light to the rest of us, and pegasi are super sensitive to air currents and stuff!”

“… That’s not totally wrong, I suppose,” Dusk mumbled. “Neuro, how confident are you about being able to detect the age and precise heft of those tracks?”

Neuron’s bionic eyes glowered from beneath her hood, two points of ruby red glinting through the darkness. “I trust the machines. If he says there’s a trail, we should follow it.”

“All right! Backfire, take the new heading! Shard, bring up the shroud again; we’ll need to be extra careful approaching an Ork camp. Gears, you keep an eye on the tracks for any turns!” The Lieutenant smiled under his mask and gave the tech-cultist a slap on the back with his wing. “If this pays off then the biggest hurdle of this whole operation is done with!”

“Finding the seismic thing is the biggest hurdle? I thought it… uh…” Nacht trailed off as all the other ponies of Dagger Squadron turned toward her, and she could feel their glares through the masks. “Yes, well, if you say so, Lieutenant!” she said, her voice sounding very nervous. Penumbra silently patted her on the head, smirking.

“I do say so, yeah,” Dusk growled. Then he banged a hoof against the top of the Strider. “Let’s move out!”

The equine battlesuit started trotting in the direction Gears had indicated. Penumbra began casting her spell again, while Nacht and Dusk Blade climbed down to the hooks on the side of the walker. Neuron Dialect moved to join Dusk like before, but then her ear twitched and she froze in place.

The mare’s head swiveled around, and her augmetic eyes zoomed in on a rock outcropping a good distance away. There was a strange sliver of something in the air, like a loose flame floating off of some invisible candle. Her vision stuttered slightly, went to static, and then reset, all in the space of a second. There was nothing there. Just a boulder jutting out of the ground.

“Neuro, what’s the hold-up? You spot something?” Dusk asked.

“… No. There’s nothing,” she mumbled back before joining the Lieutenant.

Man every time I introduce an OC now I can't help but order a bunch of art pieces for them. Sometimes even before I introduce them!
Anyway have some sneering anime Penumbra:

This picture was drawn by Alus, while the picture in-chapter was done by Spoopygander