Entrenchment
An Age of Iron story
Chapter 11
Harbinger
****
Eye of Terror (exact location undetermined)
It was often said, by those who traveled there and yet maintained their sanity, that the Eye of Terror was more akin to a sea of nightmares than even the Warp itself.
The Warp was a place of raw psychic power. Sheer energy churning in an endless void. Swarms of daemons, pulsing currents of energy, and pooled reflections of mortal souls filled the ocean of madness. Violent, primordial, and possessed of a hateful, discordant intelligence all its own.
And yet, the Warp could be predictable in its own way. It tides were reliable enough for millions to ply its currents at any given moment. Its wrath was unfocused and immaterial enough to be held at bay with the humans’ science or the Orks’ belligerent will. There were entities within the Warp that controlled its power to a great degree, but that control was limited.
The Eye of Terror was another thing entirely.
A half-way collision point between the Warp and the material universe, it was a place in which reality itself constantly warred with the psychic horror of a catastrophe ten thousand years old. The birth of Slaanesh – the Eldar’s most dramatic and lethal mistake – was, in many ways, still in progress within that hateful realm. Within the Eye time passed unnaturally, in fits and starts, and often uncoupled itself from the consciousness of those within. Some regions of the Eye still re-lived the apocalyptic turmoil of its creation, over and over again, as the screams of a billion Eldar fell away to ashen silence. The tension between reality and the Empyrean eating away at it left the Eye in a state of constant struggle on the atomic level and beyond. Nowhere else in the galaxy, not even the infamous Maelstrom, could orchestrate such constant, comprehensive violence. The creatures of the Warp held more power here than during their incursions into the Materium, but even their control waxed and waned catastrophically while the material universe fought their essence from within.
The planets of the Eye of Terror were more stable, to a point. Each daemon world was a nexus of relative sanity where the laws of physics usually held sway and life was hostile rather than in a state of impossible, constant destruction. The flow of time was generally constant, matter reacted as expected, and there weren’t THAT many spontaneous incursions of bloodthirsty monsters. These worlds were possible to survive on and colonize, although they tended to be more horrific and lethal than the most savage death world.
It was into this shrieking tempest that the Harvest of Steel sailed with its fleet in its wake. The daemon ship was its own Navigator, sensing the tides of the Empyrean and riding out the turbulent currents. It needed no safe passage into the Eye itself, and could guide its fleet’s path through the outer reaches of the Eye without needing to challenge the fortifications of Cadia.
Indeed, the Eye of Terror was the Harvest’s natural territory, much more so than either the relatively peaceful, empty void of the Materium or the furious psychic sea of the Warp. It shared the Eye’s peculiar half-way nature between living daemonhood and inert metals. The skill and forbidden knowledge of the Iron Warriors’ Warpsmiths – not least Solon himself – turned that crude, primordial struggle between the Real and Warp-borne into a symbiotic reliance.
The daemonic constantly hunted the living in a hateful, angry stupor. The living fought back, pushed through fear to construct armor and weapons. The Chaos Space Marines saw this conflict, and like always, saw potential where others observed only ruin.
The 38th Company had returned.
Harvest of Steel – psionic isolation cell
A bell chime came from the wall, and Twilight Sparkle instantly perked up.
“Twilight Sparkle, we are approaching Medrengard’s orbital dockyards. You are now free to move about the ship.” Gaela’s voice came from the vox caster on the wall, and Twilight immediately jumped to her hooves.
“Gaela! Perfect! Wait for me! I’ll go with you!” the Princess shouted while her horn began to glow.
Spike was resting on the side of the chamber, and he groaned and started pushing himself up while Twilight’s armor materialized. “Are we there yet?”
“Yes! We’ve finally made it!” Twilight was visibly giddy as she levitated the main cell locking lever to the open position. “We’re going to see a whole new planet, Spike! We may be the first Equestrians to EVER set foot on an alien world!”
A clunk and a hiss came from the door, and then it slid open. Gaela waited calmly on the other side, axe in hand as usual.
Twilight quickly walked up next to the Techpriest, grinning. “Where are we going? What should we do? Can I go down to the planet’s surface? Are monsters going to try to kill me there? Because if not, I really want to go to the planet’s surface!”
Gaela waited for Spike to stumble over sleepily, and then she tapped the dragon on the head with a servo arm. “Wake up. Keep pace with us and stay close.” Then she turned around and started walking down the hall.
Spike quickly shook his head, and then dashed after Gaela. Twilight kept pace more easily with the Dark Techpriest and patiently awaited answers to her questions.
“You may have the opportunity to descend to the planet’s surface, although I would not recommend it,” Gaela finally replied. “The Harvest of Steel is safer.”
“How much safer? Because the Harvest really isn’t that safe,” Spike pointed out.
“Difficult to quantify as I am, as always, of a uniquely valuable human class. This exposes me to far less arbitrary violence than it would most other mortals,” Gaela responded. “Based on reports of casualties and estimates as to their various causes – and an expansion to estimate casualties gone unreported – I would estimate your chances of survival at eighty percent.”
Twilight and Spike blinked.
“Well, that’s a pretty high number!” Spike said cheerfully.
Twilight was less cheerful. “Uh… can you break that figure down a little bit? What if I keep to secure areas? Or only move with an escort?”
“The figure represents your aggregate chances of returning to the Harvest alive after being dispatched to the surface,” Gaela reiterated. “It does not suggest you will return uninjured.” She stopped talking, unwilling to clarify the number further.
Twilight quickly felt her initial excitement wane, and she lowered her head while she followed Gaela through the halls. Gaela glanced back at her.
“I see you have a new trophy,” the Dark Acolyte said suddenly.
Twilight perked her head up again. Attached to the chain that crossed her right-side shoulder pauldron were the heavy bolter shells that represented her mission successes. One was for her aid in capturing the Tau base. Another was for leading the destruction of a Gargant and another for the Ork Space Hulk. Whereas those bullets were all the color of mundane iron, however, a golden heavy bolter shell hung at the end.
“Warsmith Solon said I actually deserved a normal, legitimate reward for destroying an Imperial cruiser, but since he already started doing the heavy bolter on a chain thing with us ponies he just gave me a gold one instead.” Twilight flushed through her fur and grinned bashfully. “Well, that, and he promised to build me another Twiblade-“
“Force harmonizer,” Spike and Gaela corrected immediately, in perfect stereo.
“… Yes. Another one of those,” the purple pony grumbled. “I lost the first one while escaping from the ship.”
“A meager sacrifice for so great a kill, yet I mourn the loss of such an artifact,” Gaela said wistfully. “Regardless, you are to be commended, Sparkle. To have brought low an Imperial warship is a great boon to the forces of Chaos.”
“Heh heh! Thanks!” Twilight grinned and flushed darker. “I mean, obviously it’s terrible that all of those people died, though.”
“Hardly.”
“And I still feel that there must be some way to reconcile the hostility of this ‘Imperium’ aside from total war. These are humans, not Orks...”
“Naïve.”
“To even be in such a desperate situation where the only means of survival is the murder of tens of thousands of people reflects-“
“Sparkle, you had almost a week to wallow in your useless guilt. Don’t make me lock you back in the isolation center,” Gaela threatened blandly.
Twilight grimaced. “It’s not guilt, Gaela. Not really. I recognize there was probably nothing I could have done in that situation to save more lives than I did.” She took a deep breath. “But I don’t like fighting. I hate war. I have to believe there’s another way to deal with adversity besides destruction and hatred.”
“This is your first excursion beyond your planet’s orbit,” Gaela pointed out, “you will learn better soon enough.”
They entered an intersection, and Twilight was immediately struck by how busy the ship was. Iron Warriors ran through the corridors, dodging around slaves and servitors and the large crates they carried. Dark Techpriests scurried about with Scavurel in escort. For the first time since Twilight had boarded the Harvest of Steel, the vessel seemed busy and active.
A central pylon stood in the middle of the area, and Gaela’s optic augment flashed when she approached it. A holo-screen flickered over the surface, and she begin navigating the access runes.
“Behold, the fortress world of Medrengard.” The Dark Techpriest swiped a hand to the side.
An auspex view flashed onto the screen, and Twilight gasped at the sight of the planet they orbited. A huge, rocky orb without a spot of ocean or forest, the surface was a massive gray sphere covered in veins of yellow. Giant needle-like towers reached for the sky, and shrouds of eerie dark red clouds swirled over the atmosphere. It was a distinctly unpleasant-looking planet, all told, and far less impressive than Gaela’s picture of Starhaven that she had shown Twilight after they’d first met. But this was the first new planet she had actually traveled to and might yet set hooves upon.
Around Medrengard were great metal arches that made up the dockyards. With a gesture Gaela zoomed in on them, showing the vast structures in greater detail. Enormous skeletal husks sat within the docks, surrounded by giant servo arms, construction automata, and loose plates of metal waiting to be secured into place. Other bays contained damaged Chaos warships; vessels shaped like serrated spearheads of varying size covered in Chaos Stars, foreboding spikes, and sinister statues.
Twilight was entranced. She reared up and placed one boot upon the pylon to hold herself while she stared at the dockyards more closely. The smaller ships of the 38th Company fleet were moving in ahead of the Harvest, swooping into smaller docks for unloading. She could recognize them easily; the fleet’s vessels were of starkly different designs and lacked the open embellishments of Chaos that an Imperial vessel could immediately pick out as “heretical.”
Gaela swiped her hand again, and the image shifted to the side some more. “We’re lining up to the access terminal. All Mechanicus personnel will be called to the storage bays and forges to manage the-“
The holo-screen flickered suddenly, and then turned off.
Then all the lumens in the hall turned off.
Twilight felt a chill down her spine as everything went dark, and she instantly dropped down from the pylon. “Gaela, be careful! This could be another daemon attack!”
Her horn started to glow, and that glow intensified until it illuminated her surroundings. She turned her head to the side.
Gaela wasn’t there.
Twilight blinked. Spike wasn’t there either, despite him staying close to the Dark Techpriest. Nor were there any Iron Warriors, ratings, or anyone at all. Before this area was bustling with activity, and now she saw no one.
“G-Gaela? Spike? Wh… Where did you go?” she asked nervously, turning around in a full circle.
A clunking noise came from above, and Twilight’s heart jumped into her throat. The ceiling lumens began to hum, and then they slowly flickered back on.
Twilight turned around again, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. This entire section of the ship was deserted. There was nobody. No people, no mobile machines, nor remains of people or machines. Even the crates that were being moved had mysteriously vanished.
“Am… Am I dreaming? Maybe I’m dreaming.” Twilight whispered to herself. She felt like that possibility really should have calmed her down, but it didn’t.
Suddenly aware of an unusual chill, she levitated her helmet up over her head. The alicorn hesitated, her eyes darting back and forth, afraid for even a moment to have her vision obscured. Then she pulled her helmet down over her horn.
The visor blinked on immediately even while the in-built cogitator connected with her neural socket and the helmet seal. Soon data runes scrolled across her view screen.
“Come on, come on…” Twilight backed up down the hall while her systems loaded, waiting for access to her vox.
The view screen stuttered. Icons blurred, and then vanished. The words “NO DATA” flashed in the corner. Then it flashed in another corner. It flashed again, this time just slightly off-center.
Twilight restrained a scream as the warnings proliferated, and she started running down the hall toward the nearest set of blast doors. Her visor continued to bring up useless error messages even as she reached the control panel.
“Open. Open. OPEN!” she snapped, navigating the touch-controls with her telekinesis. Her signum identifier was registered, but for some reason the internal locks weren’t disengaging. Then the controls went dark, as if the power had been cut again.
The doors slid open.
“… Sparkle, is something the matter?” Gaela asked.
She was standing just behind the open blast doors, staring down at the purple pony. Spike was next to her, looking just as perplexed. Twilight had her legs spaced, her wings spread, and her horn glowing like she was expecting a fight.
Twilight stared up at Gaela. Her visor bracketed the Dark Techpriest normally, and all of the usual runes were back. There now seemed to be nothing wrong with her suit systems.
“Gaela? Is… Is that you?” Twilight asked weakly.
Gaela quirked her eyebrow. “Who else might I be?”
The data coming back from her visor feed was quite conclusive, so Twilight allowed herself to relax slightly. “Do you know what happened just now? How did you get in the next room?”
“We walked there,” Spike replied, scratching his head. “Then we realized you weren’t with us, so we turned around, and here you are.”
Twilight looked back into the room she had just left. It was still empty, but the pylon’s holo-screen was flickering sporadically now. She shuddered and stepped into the next ship section.
“It was… strange. The lights seemed to go out for a few seconds, and then everyone was gone,” the mare explained. “My visor and the other machines weren’t working.” She started walking down the hall, and the others followed.
“I don’t remember that,” Spike confessed. “Are you sure you’re okay, Twi? Do you… wanna wait in the isolation cell for now?”
Twilight bit her lip behind her helmet. She really, REALLY didn’t want to do that. “No. No, I’ll be fine. This is just a weird little hallucination, and-“
“Doubtful,” Gaela mumbled.
Twilight stumbled to a stop. “Doubtful? What do you doubt?”
“Doubtful it was a hallucination. Writing such things off as illusions can be fatal here,” Gaela continued, halting and turning toward the pony.
“I… I don’t understand. I CLEARLY had a completely different experience than you two just now. I must have blacked out, or-“
“Or you were subjected to a sudden Warp phenomena,” Gaela explained. “They can cause sudden shifts of a temporal, physical, kinetic, and psychological nature. And of course, we cannot necessarily rule out harmless hallucinations due to stress or psychocontamination either. Such phenomena are fairly common, and almost always dangerous.”
Twilight gulped. “So… SHOULD I return to the isolation chamber?”
“It would be safer, but less productive,” Gaela admitted, shrugging her heavy shoulders. Then she turned on her heel and continued down the halls.
Twilight followed quickly behind the Dark Acolyte and Spike rushed to keep up with them. “It’s not that I’m unwilling to face a little danger in order to see Medrengard! But, you know… I’d like more context on those exact dangers, if possible.”
“Very well. Time and causality may suddenly be suspended without warning or obvious remedy. When this occurs, do not panic. Your fear may attract nearby Warp entities,” Gaela said blandly. “There is decreased likelihood these creatures or phenomena possess an active, hostile agenda, as opposed to your experience in Warp space. The Eye of Terror is not the Warp, and is not the daemon’s natural home. Like creatures of material flesh, it struggles to survive here, although its struggles are very different.”
They reached another doorway just as it opened, and then quickly stepped aside for a squad of Iron Warriors marching the opposite way.
“Okay…” Twilight breathed, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “I can deal with this. I mean, magic is the essence of compromised physical law and diverted causality!” A joyless laugh came from the mare’s vox grille. “So… do you have any other advice?”
“Try to stay in groups,” Gaela replied. “Concentrated psychic energies tend to impress their expectations upon the surrounding space and render the environment more physically stable.”
Twilight grimaced. “There were a fair number of people in the other room when it went dark…”
“It may not be enough. It may happen that nothing you do is enough.”
The Iron Warriors passed, and Gaela walked through the blast doors. Twilight and Spike hesitated nervously, glancing back at the passage where they had come from. Then they followed her.
“… Just remember,” the Dark Techpriest suddenly continued. “If the harm is real, then the threat is real. If the threat is real… then it can be killed.”
Gaela, Twilight, and Spike proceeded down the corridor in silence after that. Vox traffic flitted across the noosphere, filling Gaela’s internal channels with noise. Twilight’s vox links were more selective – prioritizing combat alerts – so her visor was less cluttered, but she too was impressed by the level of activity present now that the flagship was making berth.
“The main efforts of the fleet will be divided into logistics, rearming, and leadership. Warsmith Solon will negotiate for new warriors and data in exchange for our resources, while Magos Kaelith contacts the Dark Mechanicus for technology exchanges.”
“What will we be doing?” Twilight asked.
“I’m sure the Iron Warriors would rather not show off a heavily-armed alien psyker in our central bastion,” Gaela explained. “You’ll be kept out of the way, working security with the unloading teams.”
A vox link connected to Twilight’s helmet. “Princesh Shparkle! Welcome to Medrengard! Home fortresh of the mighty Iron Warrior Legion! I trusht the trip wash shatishfactory?”
The alicorn halted and quickly linked Gaela’s vox connection before she replied. “The Warp certainly was… different when traveling inside a giant monster than it was with the Elements of Harmony. It actually had more daemons trying to kill me, though.”
“A common hazard of Chaosh. You get ushed to it,” Solon replied. “Anyway, you will be joining me when we deshend to the planet’sh shurface. Proceed to the marked embarkation airlock.”
A directional beacon appeared on Twilight’s visor, but she was initially too stunned to notice. “Wh-What? I’m… going with you?”
“Affirmative. You came all thish way, after all. And were almosht shlaughtered for your trouble! Did you think I’d make you wait in the ship?”
“Uh…” Twilight looked up at Gaela.
Gaela looked back down at Twilight for a few seconds. “I am as surprised as you are. This is a rare honor, Sparkle. And, if I might add, substantially reduces your chance of suffering fatal trauma during our visit.”
Twilight didn’t really feel much safer with Solon than Gaela, but conceded the point. She was getting a ride to the planet’s surface, and would get to see first-hoof what kind of activities occupied the Warsmith of the fleet when he made berth.
She took a deep breath. “Yes, Warsmith. I’ll be there soon.”
“Shplendid! I musht inshisht that the young dragon remain with the Dark Acolyte and aboard the Harvesht, however. Hish eshtimated value hash increashed shubshtantially shince he demonshtrated the ability to shend meshagesh inshtantaneoushly acrosh the galaxy.” The vox link cut out.
Twilight and Gaela both turned to stare down at Spike. Spike stared back into their visors blankly, having only heard their side of the conversation.
“What? What are you looking at me for?”
“… Nothing, Spike. Never mind.” Twilight tried to banish the many curious theories that came to mind when hearing that Spike had unique value for his magical teleportation breath. Not least the question of whether his being kept safe while she descended suggested he was more valuable than she was.
“Goodbye, you two. Stay safe!” Twilight turned and galloped away.
“I don’t see the purpose of such a command,” Gaela replied even as Twilight ran out of earshot. “Our safety is largely a function of random chance, not a matter-“
“Gaela. It’s just a thing ponies say when they leave, not a literal command,” Spike interrupted.
“Ah. One of those ‘social skills’ you refer to in interpersonal pleasantries?”
“Exactly! We’ll get you to understand basic conversation one of these days!” Spike said cheerfully, continuing down the hall.
He proceeded for several steps before he realized he didn’t hear the heavy tread of Gaela’s power armored boots following him. He turned to look, afraid that he had suddenly fallen into a Warp phenomenon like Twilight had.
No such thing had happened. Gaela was standing in place, staring down the hall in the direction Twilight had left.
“Gaela? Is something wrong?”
The Dark Techpriest hesitated, still transfixed. “I… I had a premonition just now. It was…” Her voice was a whisper, and lacking in its normal strength.
Then she turned around. “It is nothing. Let us go. There is much work to do.”
****
Relay shuttle – descent to Medrengard, bastion complex Heer-Ven
Twilight had imagined, perhaps foolishly, that fortresses didn’t come much bigger than Ferrous Dominus.
She considered it simply a matter of a limiting function. A defensive point was only worth as much as the most valuable thing there that someone would want to take or destroy. She only considered Ferrous Dominus to be a “properly” fortified bastion both because it was a highly productive manufacturing point and because the Iron Warriors’ enemies had proven that such overwhelming force was needed for its defenses. Twilight also knew that other complexes developed by humanity had been applied on a planetary scale, such as agriculture and industrial production, but she considered that reasonable. After all, such complexes actually produced something of value.
So the sight of a true “fortress world” was both awe-inspiring and jarring to her sensibilities.
Outside the window of the shuttle, countless black spires rose into the sky, connected by massive chains. The base of the spires were raised upon a seemingly endless grid of ferrocrete palisades, which merely formed the top of the larger castle. Cannons and gun batteries surrounded the fortification, and the land around the outer walls was covered with razor wire and open kill zones.
Beyond the no-man’s land around the fortress was… another fortress. On each side. Each fortress was surrounded by more fortresses, which were in turn surrounded by more fortresses. The structures weren’t identical; some were larger, others boasted more weaponry, and some were over-decorated with extensive caution chevrons, bones, or chains. But each one presented an impressive bulwark on its own, only to be surrounded by more bulwarks. Medrengard made Ferrous Dominus look almost quaint for possessing facilities aside from bunkers and barracks.
Twilight turned her head to try to see where they were headed. An enormous flat-topped pyramid stood in the distance, bristling with artillery cannons and towers that crackled with energy. As the shuttle sped toward it, Twilight could see that the Legion’s Iron Skull emblem was cut into the top. A marker on her visor painted the structure and attached a name: Heer-Ven. A simple, cryptic designation, barely more than a mere number. But for all the drama the facility lacked in title it made up for in size and power; a common theme for the Iron Warriors.
While she was taking in the sights, a red flash of light appeared at one end of the shuttle and then swept through its interior. Twilight’s visor raised an alert, and she glanced back at the other passengers on the shuttle.
“Thish ish Warshmith Sholon, confirming landing authority.” The Warsmith sat in the middle of the vessel, surrounded by hololiths as usual. Sliver stood in a corner, leaning on his hammer. Three Warpsmiths stood together, while Dark Magos Kaelith was curled up in the back, chittering to himself in Binaric Cant.
“Affirmative, the unregishtered bio-form hash been cleared,” Solon continued, speaking to a voice only he could hear. “Negative. That ish not the cashe. Becaushe I ordered it. Negative. It ish well within my command authority.”
Several of the other passengers turned to look at Twilight. All of them could guess which “bio-form” was causing a processing delay.
“Shubmitting override codesh now. Negative, my authority shupercedesh hish.” Solon swept one hololith away, and another one flickered into place. “Good. Don’t washte my time on thish again.” The shuttle trembled and turned, heading in toward its landing site.
“Warsmith, is everything okay?” Twilight asked, dropping down from the window.
“Yesh, yesh, it’sh fine,” the Chaos Lord insisted with a rumbling chuckle. “After we land, you and Shliver will accompany me and the Warpshmithsh. Magosh, you shee to negotiating for your own allotment.”
The Warpsmiths nodded. A crackling noise came from Kaelith. Sliver growled.
“Thiss doess not ssit well with me, Warssmith. We should not be here.”
Twilight tilted her head to the side. “We shouldn’t?”
“He meansh thish particular fortresh. It’sh unushual, that’sh all,” Solon said. “Normally I negotiate with Warshmith Lanz, the Mashter of the Keepsh. We were told to report here, inshtead.”
“I’m not familiar with the command hierarchy outside the fleet itself… do you actually report to anyone? Do you have a superior?” Twilight asked.
“There are a number of informal rulesh regarding my operationsh and activitiesh. Ash far ash having a direct shuperior… that’sh a more complicated queshtion.”
“The Primarch Perturabo obvioussly holdss ultimate authority over the Legion,” Sliver added, peering out the window, “but he isssuess few orderss. The daemon Primarch hass… other goalss that are not for uss to know. Asside from him, the Warssmithss lack rank with which to order each other. However, there are… caveatss.”
“I wouldn’t worry about the conduct of my peersh, though. They sheem largely content to ignore me sho long ash the iron continuesh to flow,” Solon chuckled.
“Which it hassn’t been, as we are behind sschedule and under quota,” Sliver hissed.
“Oh, come now Shliver. It’sh no big deal,” Solon scoffed.
The shuttle dipped suddenly, coming in for a landing.
“Observatory: It still perplexes why you decided to bring the xeno witch with us,” Kaelith blurted. Numerous glittering green lights swiveled in Twilight’s direction, peeking out from the cyborg’s hood.
“Why not? I thought she’d like it,” Solon said.
“I do!” Twilight interjected.
“And she certainly desherved shome kind of reward, ash she wash inshtrumental to shurviving the encounter with the Imperial fleet.”
“I agree!” Twilight piped up again.
“Executive: SILENCE, xeno.” Kaelith turned toward her, and a blast of static came from his vocalizer.
“Gah!” Twilight’s visor went dark, and her power armor systems immediately shut down. “Stop DOING that!”
“Dark Magosh, you have been in rather poor humor lately.” Solon pointed briefly at Twilight, instantly overriding Kaelith’s command signums. “Thish petulant bullying ish beneath you.” Twilight’s armor booted back up, and she glared at the cyborg through her visor.
Kaelith retorted with a series of bleeps followed by a low-pitched shriek, and then he turned away. The Warpsmiths glanced at each other in confusion, and Sliver chuckled quietly to himself.
Solon shook his head and stepped over to Twilight, looming over the armored alicorn. “I think it’sh shafe to shay thish ishn’t the purposhe I had intended when I inshtalled shafety killshwitchesh in your armor engramsh. Hold shtill.” He raised his left hand over her helmet, his metal fingertips holding just millimeters from contact.
Twilight froze as commanded, and her eyes went wide when streams of code started pouring across her visor. After a few seconds the stream slowed down, and then segments flashed and disappeared. He was re-writing her suit engrams.
“You’re getting rid of the killswitch?” Twilight asked somewhat breathlessly.
“Not quite. I’m jusht altering it. Only I will have the shignum key to activate it now.”
Kaelith twisted his head around, his entire body curving around like a snake. A metallic shriek came from the Dark Magos.
“If you abushe your toolsh, then I’m going to take them away!” Solon snapped back. “I have enough petty infighting among my circle ash it ish!” He pulled his hand away, and the code vanished.
“Thank Nurgle Telliss decided not to come,” Sliver mumbled.
The shuttle lurched to the side suddenly, and a trembling groan came from the bulkheads. The various post-humans barely budged, possessing preternatural reflexes and being long used to the tilt and shifts of aerial transports. Twilight yelped and started to tip over, barely remembering at the last moment to mag-lock her boots to the floor.
Another shudder went through the bulkheads, and then a series of heavy clanking noises. Then, silence.
“Princesh Shparkle,” Solon began, grabbing hold of the access latch. “Welcome… to Medrengard.” He pulled the lever, and with a hiss and a loud creak, the hatch opened.
Twilight gasped as the entry ramp yawned open, affording her first view from the ground of a true alien world.
“…………”
After a few seconds, she turned her head up and to the side toward Solon.
“So, normally, when you have a dramatic unveiling like this, it’s to show off something beautiful, or really awe-inspiring, or… well, new, at least,” Twilight explained while she stared into the hangar. “These are just a bunch of grimy metal corridors.”
“Yesh. That’sh Medrengard for you,” Solon agreed. His chassis lifted himself up higher, and the Warsmith walked over and past Twilight. “Metal wallsh beyond metal wallsh. An endlesh labyrinth of iron, fire, and mishery.” He headed down the ramp.
“Home,” Sliver said simply while he stepped past the armored pony.
Twilight shifted to the side to let the massive Iron Warrior pass. “I thought our planet was your home now.”
“Contra: Centaur III is an outpost with a unique defensive system. Any attachment not proportional to its strategic value is likely attributable to emotional error.” Kaelith scuttled by after Sliver, his numerous green optics shining down on the mare while he passed. “Addendum: Pain is corollary to sentiment. The Iron Warriors have cast aside such things. Conclusive: This is why they are superior as masters, and why both you and I serve.”
“It wasn’t a callous detachment to our home world and our people that stopped an Ork WAAAGH in its tracks!” Twilight snapped, speaking to the cyborg’s back.
Kaelith didn’t respond, turning away and heading down a different corridor than the Iron Warriors. Twilight fumed silently until she saw the Warpsmiths descend the ramp, and then rushed after Solon. She didn’t want to be left behind.
As she trotted through the bare steel halls, Twilight couldn’t get over a persisting sense of disappointment. The corridors were large enough for a Dreadnought and almost completely bare, with a slight sheen of moisture on the floor and a buildup of dark filth in the corners and seams between plates. Occasionally one bulkhead panel in a sequence of ten or so would have a relief of a Chaos Star or the Iron Skull, but even by Iron Warriors standards the terrain looked bare and purely functional from the inside. Almost suspiciously so, frankly. She was on a daemon world in the Eye of Terror. Just moving through this region had caused horrifying distortions of reality inside the Harvest. And when it came to hiding incredible power behind a formidable chunk of metal, nobody did it better than the Iron Warriors.
Then again, those surprises tended to be unpleasant in the extreme, and Gaela had been clear that visiting this place was potentially lethal. So maybe it was better this way?
“That’s Chaos for you,” the pony chuckled ruefully. “Unpredictable even in how terrible it is.”
“There are many vile wonderss on Medrengard,” Sliver said, having overhead her. “From the Ssteel Terrorss of Grallit to Continent Four’ss acid ssea. But we are not here as exploratorss or pilgrimss, xeno. There iss bussinesss to conduct.”
“Yes, of course,” Twilight mumbled in reply. “I’m glad I even got the chance to come along.”
“It would be a shame if you came all thish way by mishtake and then didn’t even shet hoof on the planet,” Solon added.
“Is there anything I should do to help?” Twilight asked the Warsmith.
“No, not at all. Thish ish quite a routine matter for ush. Jusht don’t wander off.” A chuckle came from his vox grille. “We may be in one of the nicer partsh of Medrengard, but it’sh shtill not quite shafe.”
“Nicer?” Twilight’s snout wrinkled.
“In a… behavioral ssensse,” Sliver mused aloud. “Thiss region iss well protected and accidentss uncommon. There are more impresssive landss, but they are… volatile.”
They reached a set of blast doors, and Solon passed his hand over a skull set in the wall nearby. The eye sockets filled with red light, and the blast doors started grinding open in that slow, noisy manner that such barriers tended to work.
Twilight wasn’t surprised at all to see there was an Iron Warrior waiting on the other side. This was, after all, an Iron Warrior fortress world. The Chaos Space Marine didn’t even seem all that unique compared to the two Space Marines that accompanied her. He wore standard pattern power armor, with the exception that his right arm and shoulder was bare. Rather than being of flesh or a clearly mechanical limb, the exposed arm seemed to be made of a silvery metal that looked and moved like skin and muscle. He wore no helmet, and had a large optical implant covering his left eye.
It was remarkable, then, the reaction he received from the Company’s leaders. Solon lurched backward, his legs screeching as they reversed locomotion and then braked. Sliver’s response was more subtle, and he recoiled slightly before moving quickly out of the new Iron Warrior’s way, assuming the other Marine was looking to pass. Twilight had never seen the Chaos Lord move to accommodate someone else, even Solon himself.
The Iron Warrior, for his part, did not approach or take any particular action at first, glancing at Solon, and then Sliver. His augmetic eye found its way to Twilight next, and here it lingered but a few seconds before he faced Solon again.
“Hello, Solon. I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Warshmith Honshou? You are receiving me?” Solon asked. Between the natural distortion of his helmet vox and his slur it was difficult to determine his tone, but Twilight thought the Warsmith sounded nervous.
“I am. We have much to discuss.” The other Warsmith made a shooing motion with his metal hand. “Your aides may go. I’m sure they have much work to do, and you will not require their assistance.”
Sliver and the Warpsmiths shared a glance. After a few seconds, Sliver nodded. The Warpsmiths promptly turned on their heels and walked off, clearly eager to leave the confrontation.
“I will ssee to the trading of our main material sstoress,” Sliver said. “I take it thiss iss not what you have been called upon to disscusss. By your leave, Warssmith Honssou.” He followed the Warpsmiths, the heavy tread of his boots echoing along the corridor.
Twilight didn’t receive any kind of order, so she remained put. Solon’s legs shifted uncertainly, rising and then lowering back down without moving him anywhere.
Honsou started to turn around, but his augmetic eye again lingered on Twilight and he paused.
“What is that?” he rumbled, pointing at the alicorn.
“Thish ish Princesh Twilight Shparkle, my pet pshyker,” Solon said.
“Pet?” Twilight asked in alarm. “I’m not a-“
Solon interrupted her. “She’ll be shtaying with me sho long ash I’m planetshide. Ish that a problem, Warshmith?”
Honsou didn’t reply, walking up to Twilight and staring down at her. Twilight still wanted to protest being characterized as a “pet,” but decided that perhaps it was safest to remain quiet for now.
“An equine base psyker? And you even armored it.” Honsou leaned down, cupping Twilight’s helmeted chin within his silvery hand and tilting her head up. Twilight remained silent, hardly daring to breathe while she stared up into the Iron Warrior’s eye. As she waited for him to let go, her visor brought up a brief analysis of the arm holding her; a living metal construct, apparently. The same regenerating alloy Big Macintosh had been augmented with.
“… Fascinating.” Honsou finally let go of Twilight and turned around with a chuckle. “You always show up with the most interesting playthings, Solon.” He began walking down the hall again.
“I’ll take that ash a compliment,” Solon replied.
“Oh, it was intended as one,” Honsou agreed. “That is, in fact, what we’re here to discuss... more or less.” He reached a second set of blast doors and glanced at the control relay with his optical augmetic. It blinked green, and the doors started to open.
“We? You mean you and I?” Solon asked.
“No,” Honsou replied as the doors yawned open.
The room beyond was a small meeting hall lit by a panel of dim lumens on the walls. It bore considerably more furnishing than the parts of the fortress Twilight had seen thus far, in that it had a large table fashioned in the shape of a Chaos Star and several big chairs slotted in-between the arrow points.
Six Iron Warriors were already seated. They were all fairly distinct, with the heavy augmetics and more elaborate gear that marked them as being of high rank. Power weapons, mechatendrils, and macabre icons surrounded each of the Chaos Space Marines, and half of them wore Terminator armor.
“Is… there shome kind of problem?” Solon asked uncertainly. This was obvious moving further and further outside the scope of what he was expecting.
The Iron Warriors stared back at him wordlessly. Those without helmets revealed grim scowls while they sat and waited. Those with helmets, which ran a fascinating gamut of exotic and heavily modified armor styles, glowered from behind visors of a harsh, bloody red.
“A problem? Perhaps,” Honsou murmured while he walked around the table. “But I prefer to think of it as an opportunity.” He reached the only empty chair and sat down. “Come, Solon. There is much to discuss.” He pointed to the only empty section of the table, which incidentally lacked a chair. Its intended occupant, obviously, had no need to sit.
Solon slowly walked forward, but Twilight hung back for a moment to scan the Chaos Space Marines. As she pulled up their names she didn’t expect to see any she recognized, although she did tag an Astartes that went by the name of Warsmith Lanz. He was, evidently, the Marine Solon normally dealt with. Other than that, the names were unfamiliar. Warsmith Toramino. Warsmith Koros. Warsmith Zhorisch. Warsmith Kataris. Warsmith Ironclaw.
The most obvious common factor was their rank: Warsmith. Every Iron Warrior in this room could claim to be Solon’s equal, to one extent or another. Twilight felt a knot form in her stomach.
“What is that thing doing in here?” demanded one of the Chaos Marines, pointing a clawed finger at Twilight. “This is a war conference, not a bestiary!”
“Now, Brothers, let’s not quibble over such petty things,” Honsou said with a disingenuous chuckle. “Let Solon have his pet. For now. We have much more important matters to discuss.”
“Do we?” Solon asked after settling into his spot. It was a fairly awkward fit, given that his legs covered a much larger area than his peers, and two of his front legs rose up to brace against the table surface. “I musht confesh I’m not certain ash to the context of thish meeting. Did I mish a data package?” Twilight approached slowly from behind him, keeping the bulk of the Warsmith between her and the other Iron Warriors while keeping a good view of the table.
“No, Brother. You did not.” Honsou gestured across the table to the Iron Warrior that Twilight’s visor had marked as Warsmith Kataris. “I believe some introductions are in order. This is Warsmith Kataris.”
“Promoted from the ranksh of the 63rd Grand Battalion after shome three hundred shtandard sholar cyclesh of shervice, if my recordsh are accurate,” Solon said. “Very impreshive for one sho young.”
Kataris chuckled, but did not speak. Of all the Warsmiths present, he had the least elaborate wargear by far. A suit of slightly embellished power armor, a standard-issue power sword, and a bolt pistol made up his basic armament. A servo arm hung over his shoulder, bearing a drill on the end in-between a set of pincers.
“Warsmith Kataris has been very busy as of late,” Honsou continued. “His warband was largely untested and poorly armed when it ventured out of the Eye of Terror. But under his leadership it has accomplished great things.”
“Three worlds fell before my armies,” Kataris snarled, swiping his hand in front of him. A hololith set in the center of the table flickered to life, displaying a trio of planets. “All of them garrisoned. Each of them planetary hubs of great value to the pawns of the Imperium!”
Data started to appear over the planets, displaying combat flashpoints, fortifications, and cities. Arrows marking deployments and troop movements started criss-crossing the hololithic spheres, moving too fast for Twilight to keep track of. Chaos Stars bloomed over continents, and red X’s appeared over vast cities.
“One by one, the Imperium’s defenses fell. Each counter-attack broke uselessly against my defenses. Every bastion was cracked open like a mere egg. Dozens of Imperial ships raced to the rescue of their doomed world, only to be cut apart within my traps!” Kataris stood up from his seat and clenched one clawed hand into a fist. “Billions of Imperial citizens have been sacrificed by my order, their cities sacked and defenders slaughtered!”
At this, Twilight Sparkle gasped.
Kataris stopped speaking, apparently caught off-guard. A Chaos war council wasn’t usually given to reactions of shock or horror, and the alicorn mare suddenly found herself the subject of seven bemused stares.
“Oh, don’t mind her. She’sh new to mash genocide,” Solon assured them with a slight chuckle. “Pleashe, Warshmith Katarish, go on.”
“Let’s not,” growled Toramino. “I’ve heard enough of your boasts. We all know why we’re here. Let’s get on with it!”
“Ah, actually, I don’t know why I’m here,” Solon pointed out, pointing upward. “It sheemsh clear you were waiting for me. Ish there shomething that requiresh my attention?”
At this, several of the Warsmiths seemed to relax. Kataris sat back down, and a few of the others leaned back and laced the fingers of their gauntlets.
“Warsmith Kataris has indeed found great success,” Honsou continued, “but at a cost. His forces, though victorious, were depleted. His fleet escaped retribution, fleeing the sector before Imperial battlegroups arrived. But in crossing into the Eye of Terror, his Grand Battalion suffered grievously.”
Ironclaw chuckled. “The tide of the Eye turned against him. Despite his many pleas and bloody gifts to the Dark Gods, the Warp nearly tore his army asunder.” He turned his helmet toward Kataris. “How many ships did you lose to the void, Brother Kataris? How many dead, ingloriously, left drifting in the Empyrean to burn in the Seas of Chaos?”
Kataris clenched his fist again, glowering at the other Iron Warrior silently. Unlike Ironclaw, he wore no helmet, revealing a series of deep burn scars over the right side of his face. His right eye was a surprisingly subtle augmetic; a bionic eyeball, set in a largely unmodified socket, and glowing with a faint blue light from its iris.
Honsou grunted. “Warsmith Ironclaw, there is no need to taunt our brother. His victories are considerable, and his losses blameless. We look now to the future of the Long War, and how we may replicate this success.”
“Very difficult, so long as the Cadian Gate is so well-guarded,” complained Zhorisch. “With the only safe passage in and out of the Eye of Terror protected by the False God’s wretched bulwarks, we rely on the tender mercies of the Warp to see us in and out of the Eye when we wish to bypass Cadia. This risk is not always… tenable.”
“Indeed,” Honsou nodded, drumming the fingers of his living metal hand on the table surface. “And yet, I believe it is in the best interests of the Legion to support Warsmith Kataris in his efforts.” He swept his arm to the side, banishing the planetary hololiths and replacing it with a wide-view multi-sector map. “His aggression and dynamic strategy is… refreshing, I’ve found. I wish to endorse and support his efforts.”
“I shee,” Solon interjected. His optical augmetic turned in its socket with a soft whirr. “I believe I undershtand why you’ve called me here, Warshmithsh. You wish for me to shponshor Warshmith Katarish in hish war effortsh. I preshume that the bulk of my shuppliesh shall go to hish fleet?”
“No,” Honsou replied calmly, “we require a much greater contribution from you, Solon.”
“Then… you wish me to modify hish ship? Sho that he could shafely pierce the veil of the Eye of Terror, ash the Harvesht of Shteel doesh?” Solon guessed. “That could take a dozen sholar cyclesh!”
“Closer,” Honsou’s lips slowly crept into a smirk, “but again, no.”
“Wait, hold on,” Toramino interrupted, leaning forward. “Are you being serious? In but a dozen years, you could modify a ship to travel-“
“Warsmith Toramino,” Honsou said coldly, but firmly. “Now is not the time. Once our business is concluded, Solon will have ample opportunity to aid our war efforts.”
“What are you talking about?” said Warsmith demanded, his voice gaining just the slightest edge. “All I do ish aid your war effortsh! That ish the central remit of the 38th Company!”
Honsou and several other Warsmiths started chuckling.
“It has been decided that this aid is… inadequate,” Honsou said, still smirking.
“What are you going on about? How ish thish inadequate?!” Solon demanded angrily.
“Well, for starters, you have arrived late and under quota,” Honsou said with a hefty shrug. The smirk never left his face.
“’For shtartersh’ indeed! For the inconvenience of a shtandard month and a few megatonhs of shcrap, you wish to censhure me?”
“No, not at all,” Ironclaw rumbled. “We will not… censure you.”
“Let me get to the point, Solon,” Honsou said, his smirk finally disappearing into a grim frown. “We are hereby relegating the 38th Company to Warsmith Kataris, effective immediately.”
“YOU’RE DOING WHAT?!”
To the utter shock of the Iron Warriors, that shout had not come from Solon, but the armored pony standing beside him.
Zhorisch stood, looming high over the table in his gleaming Terminator armor. “Speak out of turn again, xeno beast, and I will be all too happy to end you where you stand.” His voice was like acid, and instantly poured cold water on Twilight’s sudden shock and anger.
Solon looked at Twilight, and then back to the Iron Warrior. “I don’t shee how that wash out of turn. It shounded like Warshmith Honshou wash finished shpeaking.”
The other Warsmiths slowly turned their glares from Twilight over to Solon, waiting silently.
“... Oh! Wait, never mind that! I meant, what do you mean you’re giving my army to Warshmith Katarish!”
“It’s Warsmith Kataris, tinker,” the younger Astartes snarled. “And I’m not much happier than you about this. The 38th is a band of imbeciles and weaklings. It was not my idea to fill my ranks with the Legion’s failures.”
“Then don’t!” Solon retorted. “Thish ish abshurd! How ish Katarish to manage the fleet’sh reshource operationsh?”
“Solon, we do not intend for this to be a punishment. We’re merely solving a problem,” Honsou insisted. “Warsmith Kataris suffers from a shortage of material and warriors. The 38th Company suffers from a shortage of… leadership.”
Solon’s chassis groaned as it lifted him higher, and the Iron Warrior loomed over the table to point at Honsou. “You take that back, you insholent worm,” he snarled. “I will not shtand here and lishten to you inshult my Company Commander! Shliver hash been a flawlesh Shecond, eashily the equal of any shtrategisht here!”
Again, the Warsmiths stared at him silently. Twilight reached up and tapped a boot against Solon’s leg.
“They were talking about you,” Twilight whispered.
Solon started in surprise, and then quickly dropped down again. “Ah. Yesh. I shee. That doesh make shenshe, actually. I shtill object, however.”
“Your fleet in its current capacity makes feeble use of its assets,” Honsou retorted, sweeping his hand over the hololith. The image changed to one of the Harvest of Steel. “The Harvest of Steel, a great daemon-ship of unparalleled capability able to pierce the borders of the Eye at will, is used for petty material raids and ambushes of civilian traffic. Your Company, boasting a wealth of armored support, endless munitions, and a full detachment of the Dark Mechanicus, flits from system to system raiding for industrial scrap and supplies. Commander Sliver – a superb Commander, as you say – languishes under your command, forced to spend his talents on mere piracy.” Honsou shook his head. “This is a waste. There is true war to be fought, worthy enemies to cut down, mighty fortresses to shatter! While the countless lapdogs of the False Emperor march into a thousand mass graves all across this wretched galaxy, why are the Sons of Perturabo content to brood behind bastion walls?”
“But I don’t brood behind bashtion wallsh! I sherve my Legion with shupply acquishition!” Solon complained.
“It has occurred to more than one Warsmith that your eternal chore would be better accomplished with a more aggressive strategic outlook,” Zhorisch snorted. “Put your weapons toward seizing worlds, Solon. As you strip each planet bare at your leisure, you’ll find the fruits of conquest at least equal to that of mere banditry.”
“Ash if I had never conshidered that?” Solon asked. “You are quite mishtaken, Warshmith. The reshourcesh required to sheize entire planetsh reliably exceed the immediate gain in pillage. Over a period of time, the worldsh can compenshate, but-“
“You leave that to me, Tinker,” Kataris interrupted, placing a hand against his breast plate. “From here on out, getting sufficient plunder shall be the duty of the 63rd Grand Battalion. I shall cut a bloody swathe through the Imperium, and take their weapons for my own!”
“You think othersh haven’t tried, pup?” Solon countered hotly.
“’Pup!’ Marvelous!” Honsou barked, his lips twisting into a cruel grin. “The ancient Techmarine lectures the conqueror on the ways of war!”
“Warshmith Honshou, thish ish abshurd,” Solon continued, his voice seeming more strained than usual. “I know the potential material gainsh from open war againsht vulnerable worldsh. I know what my fleet ish and ishn’t capable of. Thish shtrategy ishn’t a feashible replacement for my activitiesh. I’ve done the calculationsh.”
“I know, Solon,” Honsou said calmly.
Solon was surprised, and spent a moment stuttering. Kataris shot a glare at Honsou, and veins of light flared across his augmetic eye.
“It is time to move to the next phase of the Long War,” Honsou said solemnly, resting his cheek against his fist. “A new generation of Warsmiths, born and trained within the Eye of Terror, who have known nothing but constant strife and bloody suffering, is taking its place among the Legion.”
Warsmith Kataris nodded and scowled. “Unlike my honored elders,” he sneered, “I am unsatisfied endlessly fortifying castles on the edge of reality. Give me soldiers, weapons, and the daemon ship, and release me into Imperial space! Let loose the full fury of Chaos, rather than waiting like a patient lapdog for another of Abbaddon’s tiresome invasions!”
“Fine wordsh, but ushelesh,” Solon retorted. “My fleet hash a reshponshibility, Warshmith, and it ish one I take very sherioushly. My effortsh to leech materialsh from Imperial shupply linesh ish too important to be given over to your raw battle-lusht. I refushe to grant you command.”
Honsou seemed unperturbed. “Well, then we’re done asking politely.” He pointed to the hololith, and a string of numbers crossed its main beam. “Open vox-capture. This conclave will now proceed with my proposition. I, Warsmith Honsou, formally submit that the 38th Company is to be reassigned to the command of Warsmith Kataris and the 63rd Grand Battalion. Warsmith Solon shall be allowed a holding here on Medrengard in return.”
“A bastion in exchange for an entire raider fleet?! What kind of joke ish thish?” Solon griped. The powered claw that made up his right arm clenched tight, its pistons hissing under the pressure.
“Warsmith Solon, do not interrupt,” Honsou said coldly. It was the first time he had addressed Solon as “Warsmith,” Twilight noted. Perhaps because he was being recorded?
“Warsmith Solon shall maintain his rank and status as Warsmith, such as it is, but the Legion is no longer served adequately with his command,” Honsou finished. He turned his head toward the Iron Warrior to his left. “Warsmith Lanz?”
“I disagree,” Lanz growled. “I do not believe Warsmith Kataris can adequately fulfill the 38th Company’s imperatives. I do not believe the Legion is served by this change. Nay.”
Zhorisch was next. “Warsmith Kataris may yet surprise us. Aye.”
Then Koros. “It’s time the Harvest of Steel was put to better use than petty banditry. Aye.”
Toramino. “I am… skeptical of any proposition that strips an army from one Warsmith to award to another,” he grumbled. “But there is little question that the raiders of the 38th could benefit from a more capable master. Aye.”
“I agree with the previous assessment,” Kataris said with a dark smile. “Aye.”
Ironclaw chuckled softly, raising a single talon. “Aye.”
All eyes and visors shifted to Solon. His head twitched back and forth awkwardly for a few seconds, glaring from one Warsmith to the next.
Twilight tapped her boot against his leg again. “What are you waiting for? Vote nay!” she hissed.
“I’m going to loshe anyway, though,” he whispered back down to the pony. “I feel that-“
“It doesn’t matter!” Twilight snapped, causing the Iron Warrior to flinch back.
“Nay! I vote nay!” Solon said quickly. The other Warsmiths stared at him stonily, and Lanz slapped the palm of his gauntlet over his face.
“I think it hardly needs to be said, but I support my proposition,” Honsou said solemnly. “The ayes have it.”
“Wait, wait, wait! Doesn’t he get to defend himself?” Twilight suddenly shouted.
All eyes and visors snapped toward her, and she felt her heart rate surge. Sucking in a deep breath, she continued speaking. She had little idea what she was getting into at this point, but she couldn’t just stay silent.
“If planets and battles are currency in the Legion, then you should know he’s spent the last few months conquering my home world! He owns a resource base already!”
Zhorisch started to stand up, his hand seizing the grip of his plasma pistol in an indignant rage.
Honsou raised a hand toward him, and Zhorisch froze before he could finish drawing the pistol. “This creature intrigues me. You keep such fascinating pets, Warsmith Solon.”
Twilight flushed under her helmet, still annoyed by the designation. “I’m serious! Warsmith Solon fought off a Tau and Ork invasion in order to secure control of our world! That has to be worth something!”
“Xeno weaklings? Please!” Kataris barked. “I’d wager the Ork Warboss personally bested him! If the coward even dared to face the beast in a champion’s challenge!”
“I did, ash a matter of fact!” Solon snapped back. Then he paused. “Although the Warbosh did beat me.” Another pause. “Sho did the Tau Commander, too.”
Lanz groaned and raised a hand. “Is it too late to change my vote?”
“This is crazy! You can’t do this to him!” Twilight protested hotly.
“Of course we can,” Ironclaw laughed. “The good Warsmith may attempt to oppose us, of course, but resistance would end… poorly for him.” He waved a clawed gauntlet in Twilight’s general direction. “Warsmith Solon, your beast is becoming unruly. Why don’t you take it away, to your new domicile?”
“Not so fast.” Warsmith Kataris stepped around the table, approaching Solon and Twilight with his eyes fixed on the latter. “This creature is annoying, but perhaps it is useful. There must be some reason he leaves it free to bark at its betters.”
“Not necessarily,” Toramino sighed, “all of his subordinates and slaves act like that.”
“Hmph.” Kataris stopped just a few feet away from Twilight, and the alicorn mare backed up a step cautiously. “Regardless, since I’m taking the rest of his toys, I see no reason not to claim this thing, too.”
Twilight trembled, instinctively seeking out her force harmonizer with her levitation magic. Her threads of magic found nothing, of course, and the alicorn clenched her teeth. “I will NEVER serve you.”
Twilight’s horn was already flooding with power when she’d finished speaking, but it didn’t matter. Kataris moved faster than she could possibly react to.
The next thing she knew she was staring down the barrel of a bolt pistol and heard the sound of a single round firing. Severe pain exploded through her, and the world went dark.
“Fine,” said Warsmith Kataris with a shrug. “Have it your way.”
****
Centaur III
Ferrous Dominus, sector 4
Trial arena 6
“What… What IS this creature? I looks like an equine in its morphology, but…”
General Harlin stared at a bank of vid displays set into a wall over a cogitator bank. A single Dark Techpriest manned the cogitator in front of him, while Warpsmith Kessler stood behind him.
Pictured in the vid displays was a single changeling. The creature was slightly smaller than a pony, with a dark carapace riddled with notches and holes. It possessed a small, curved horn coming from its forehead, while a pair of ragged insect-like wings sprouted from its back.
The changeling was currently secured in a metal cage and surrounded by several ceiling-mounted gun turrets. Servo arms boasting drills, prods, and calipers hung over the enclosure like a subtle threat. The changeling himself cowered in his cage, quivering in fear. It already bore a few cracks in its carapace from being subdued, and seemed to be no threat even without the security measures that surrounded it. Nonetheless an Iron Warrior – one of the few left in Ferrous Dominus – stood at the front entrance to guard it. No chances were being taken.
“Analytic: Changeling. Native sentient fauna possessing characteristics of equine and arthropoda biology,” murmured the Techpriest, still staring at the screen. “The Equestrians have been most forthcoming about this new creature. They are an uncommon but infamous threat to the Equestrian territory.”
Kessler grunted, viewing the vid-screens with his arms crossed over his chest. His left arm, lost to a saboteur’s bomb, was now a thick, blocky augmetic that ended in a hydraulic pincer.
“And what kind of threat do these creatures pose to us, Carmed? Are they psykers as well?” the Warpsmith demanded.
“Affirmative, Lord Kessler. Expansion: The changeling race possesses a unique psionic ability attuned to their peculiar biologis. This ability allows the species to mimic the appearance of other creatures. Observe.”
Carmed’s mechadendrites slithered across the console controls, and a hololith projector in the changeling’s room flickered to life. The image of a mare appeared within it; a yellow earth pony with vines for a cutie mark. The changeling backed up cautiously, its pale blue eyes narrowing.
“Hello! I’m Ivy League! I’d like to submit for processing, please!” She smiled, throwing back her mane. “My special talent is garden plantscaping! You may not know what that is, since I don’t think there’s a single living plant within five miles of Ferrous Dominus, but I’m here to change that! Hee hee!”
The hololith froze. Then a vox caster boomed from above the cage.
“Commencing experimental cycle 37. Prisoner, take on the form of the hololith.”
One of the servo arms dropped down to the side of the cage, and an electric fork just small enough to fit through the bars sparked threateningly. The changeling whimpered, cowering, and then its horn started to glow.
That glow soon spread to its entire body, and a pulsing green wave consumed the changeling’s carapace. Yellow fur was left behind, and within seconds a copy of Ivy League was standing nervously in the cage.
“Hello! I’m Ivy League!” the changeling said, his voice perfectly matching that of the hololith recording. “I’d like to submit for processing, please!”
“They’re shape-shifters. By the Dark Gods, these creatures are natural spies,” Harlin murmured. He turned to Carmed. “How is it that the equines never told us about these creatures?”
“Explanatory: Interviews suggest no hesitation among equines to explain the nature of the changelings or desire to protect them. Put simply, we never asked.” Carmed shrugged. “Expansion: There seem to be numerous creatures on this planet possessing unique abilities and representing a substantial danger. We have not sought a full accounting of them all.”
“I’d think these changelings would warrant a mention as a unique security threat!” Harlin complained.
“Are they?” Kessler asked. “What other capabilities do these xenos possess? What do they want? Are they even dangerous?”
“Preliminary analysis shows few obvious defenses. The carapace is underdeveloped, offering only marginally more protection than skin. The changeling lacks any offensive bio-weapons or harmful psionic ability as far as we can detect. Excepting the potential of their shape-shifting and vocal mimickry, of course.” Carmed turned around. “However, the most fascinating aspect of the changeling biologis is their consumption requirements. It was revealed by our Equestrian allies that the changeling race feeds on love.”
Harlin arched an eyebrow. “… Love. Really.”
“Affirmative. They are psionic parasites,” Carmed clarified. “The precise mechanism for this energetic conversion has not been established – much less the precise psionic wavelength of the specified emotional feed – but deep scans have confirmed that the changeling’s physical digestive system is vestigial and barely functional. It is likely a remnant of an evolutionary ancestor, or perhaps a transitional juvenile form.”
“Can they mimic us?” Kessler asked.
“The transformational mechanism has shown imprecise but absolute limits. There is definitely a maximum capacity to replicate mass and materials of a given density or complexity.” Carmed turned back to the console. “Observe.”
The changeling cringed again when the hololith flickered. Now a human soldier stood in from of him. He was a tall man, wearing a drum filter rebreather, and he carried a laspistol in one hand while he saluted.
“Lieutenant Zayk reporting, Lord. The forward deployment zone has been secured. Zero enemy contacts. We await the Dark Mechanicus detachment.”
A blast of static came from the vox caster. “Commencing experimental cycle 38. Prisoner, take on the form of the hololith.”
The changeling took a deep breath, and then the green glow reappeared. The form of the pony vanished under the magic aura, which then started to contort into an upright stance. The process took slightly longer than transforming into a pony, but within seconds a copy of the mercenary stood within the cage.
“Lieutenant Zayk reporting, Lord,” he said, holding his arms stiffly at his side.
“Analytic: Although you successfully reproduced apparel appearing to be flak armor, you did not replicate the soldier’s equipment,” noted the vox caster. “Replicate the rest of the wargear.”
“Wh-What? You mean, the gun?” the changeling asked, staring up at the caster. “I can’t do that!”
“Replicate the rest of the wargear,” the vox caster commanded again. The electric prod on the servo arm crackled in warning.
The changeling stared at the hololith helplessly, and then a green light flashed from behind his goggles. The glow of magic reached his hand, swimming about in his palm and dancing across his fingers.
After several seconds, the glow receded, and nothing appeared in his hand.
“I can’t do it,” the changeling gasped. “I simply… the image, it… I-“
The servo arm lurched forward, stabbing through the bars of the cage.
“Well, that’s somewhat encouraging,” Harlin mumbled while the changeling’s screams floated through the room. “If they can’t mimic complex wargear, that creates less scope for fooling our security. And there’s no chance they could get away with copying an Astartes.”
“I still see no reason why these creatures would bother to do so,” Kessler grumbled. “Why and how would they oppose us? They cannot fight, and if they truly seek ‘love’ to feed on, surely the chosen of Chaos make poor livestock.”
“Clarification: It has not been determined that they do oppose us. This changeling was captured during a raid on a dragon nest. It has proven resistant to interrogation thus far, so we are unaware of its objective or circumstances.” Carmed hit a switch on the console, and the servo arm retracted. “Trademaster Delgan insists the changeling was working with the dragons at the time, but we are unable to discern the exact circumstances. The equines interviewed did not think it likely that the changeling hive is actively working against the 38th Company, but their strategic analysis is of limited capacity.” He turned toward Kessler, his optics gleaming under his black hood. “Lord Serith has already been notified and is on his way. This creature’s resistance will not stand. We will know its orders.”
“Good,” Kessler grumbled. “If these creatures do seek to defy us, I want them brought to heel immediately. Their abilities may be limited, but other enemies may seek to use them against us.”
Harlin crossed his arms over his chest. “My Lord… is not the opposite arrangement possible?”
“Explain,” growled the Warpsmith.
“Might it be that the changelings sought these creatures out and used them against us?” Harlin continued. “To this day the griffons, dogs, and minotaur deny arming or condoning any sort of insurgency against us. The spy that attacked your diplomatic conference has never been found. And now we find this… this thing among the dragons. Might they not be the source, rather than merely a tool?”
“I am not inclined to believe the coward xenos, even after they have submitted,” Kessler grumbled, turning to Carmed again. “Techpriest, how are these changelings organized? Do they have a civilization of their own? Or a leader?”
“Explanatory: The changelings possess a hive base social structure, dependent on the will of a single absolute ruler. The equines have identified the Queen of the changelings as that individual. Her name is Chrysalis.”
“So they have a Master. Good. That will make them easier to quell,” said the Warpsmith. “If these creatures think to oppose us, then they too shall be broken under the tread of the Iron Warriors.”
Carmed tilted his head as a different vid screen blinked. “We may find out soon enough,” the Dark Techpriest noted, “our interrogator has arrived.”
The changeling twitched in pain, lying on its side. It had reverted back to its true form, and smoke curled into the air around the pair of cracks where the taser fork had stabbed into the carapace.
A loud clunking noise came from the entrance, and the heavy mag-lock started to turn. The Iron Warrior standing guard took a few steps back, connecting his visor feed to the door cogitator.
“Lord Serith,” the Chaos Marine murmured as the door shifted open.
“Greetings, Brother.” Serith stepped past the other Astartes without giving him so much as a glance. “What chore do you have for me? Be quick about it.”
The Iron Warrior stepped back into place, nudging the chin of his helmet toward the cell. “Lord Tellis captured a shape-shifting beast yesterday while fighting the dragons. We need you to find out what it was doing there.”
“Oh? The Mad Angel took a prisoner?” Serith tilted his head to the side, staring into the cage. “I didn’t think he had the capacity to attack a creature without killing it.”
“… He actually described it as ‘claiming his loot.’ He was quite upset when the Dark Mechanicus wished to study it,” the guard murmured.
“Fascinating…” Serith leaned down, his visor glittering in the dim light. The changeling stared back, blinking its pale blue eyes through the lingering pain.
The vox caster came on. “Salutory: Greetings, Lord Serith. I am Dark Techpriest Carmed. I have overseen the analysis of this new capture, identified on this world as a ‘changeling’.”
“Quite a strange little beast,” Serith noted, standing up straight again. “A small mind drowning in fear. What do we desire from it?”
“We wish to know what it was doing in a dragon’s den, why it cooperated with the dragons against our units, and what plans, if any, it has regarding the 38th Company,” Carmed explained. “Any strategic or general behavioral analysis would be optimal.”
“As you wish,” Serith whispered, raising a hand.
The cage started to creak, and the changeling hopped upright. His head whipped back and forth uncertainly. After a few seconds, the main lock turned, and then the front of the cage opened up.
“Approach, insect,” Serith demanded.
The changeling flinched back, and he started looking all around the cage, searching for any possible exit point if he managed to get past the Chaos Sorcerer.
Serith waited for a few seconds, and then looked up toward the vox caster. “Techpriest, if you would?”
“Affirmative,” the vox caster replied. The servo arm with the taser fork dropped down and started angling to jab between the bars again.
The changeling yelped and bolted forward, its wings buzzing rapidly. He jumped out of the cage and tried to fly past Serith, but the Sorcerer was too close and too fast. Serith grabbed him by the leg, and then pulled him down.
“Now, then. Let’s see if there’s anything in that feeble mind besides terror…” His free hand seized the changeling by the forehead. The gauntlet pulsed, and a sickly green glow started to come from the contact.
The changeling, still squirming in Serith’s grip, gasped and screeched. Pain stabbed into its head like dozens of needles, and its wings vibrated in uneven bursts of movement.
“……… Hmmm. This will be difficult,” Serith mumbled.
“Requesting explanatory expansion,” Carmed said from the vox.
“This beast’s will is… incomplete. Its mind is weak as I first thought, but is controlled. This makes it resistant,” Serith explained.
“Interrogative: Will you be unable to complete the interrogation?”
“I can strip the thoughts from this alien, yes. But the insect will not survive.” A deep, echoing laugh came from the Sorcerer’s vox grille, and the changeling’s squirming increased considerably.
The Iron Warrior near the door stepped forward hesitantly. “But, Lord Tellis was-“
“It begins,” Serith hissed.
A blinding surge of light came from the psyker and his victim. The former laughed while psionic hoarfrost washed over his gauntlets. The latter shrieked as its agony intensified in ways far beyond mere pain.
“Yes… the dam is breaking…” Serith said, arcs of power lashing around him and his victim. “This creature did not end up in a dragon’s lair against its will. It sought out this place… sought out the dragons… as allies… to fight…” he paused for a short while, moments surging past him liked a datastream. Images flickering in his mind in the blink of an eye. Speech, disjointed and incomplete, boomed at him in one moment and whispered in the next.
“This creature sought to fight us. It approached the serpents to rally them as soldiers, and gave the serpents warning of our approach,” Serith continued. “That is its mission. To agitate resistance against the 38th Company.”
“Interrogative: What is the strategic necessity of this resistance?”
“Unclear. This drone is not given to explanations or strategy. It takes orders,” Serith admitted. “Let’s finish this.”
Another pulse of psionic energy came from the Sorcerer’s gauntlets, tearing the last few precious memories from the changeling’s fracturing thoughts. An audible crack came from the creature’s carapace, and its eyes started to pale.
In its final moments, the changeling was overcome with sudden determination. It could not resist the alien warrior, but as images were torn from its racing thoughts, it forced a few key mental pictures into the stream of consciousness being ripped from it. A deliberate addition of thoughts and emotional responses to complicate its unwilling admission. A last, desperate attempt to defend the changelings’ efforts, since it could not defend itself.
“I see…” Serith whispered. He let his arms drop. The dead changeling hung loosely within his grip, oozing green fluid from its mouth and a large breach in its skull.
Serith looked up toward the vox speaker. “These creatures are behind it. The insurgency. They approach the other races in disguise and convince them to provoke us. The diamond dogs, the griffons, those bull mutants, all of them. This one could not disguise itself as a dragon, and sought to convince them to obey instead. They may even be seeking to turn the equines against us. They have many spies amongst the Equestrians.”
A new voice erupted from the vox: General Harlin. “Then these creatures ARE manipulating the others! They’re trying to wipe us out using the native primitives!”
Serith chuckled darkly. “Oh, no, General. Not at all. There was a very interesting secret hidden within this slave’s mind. The changelings desire not for the natives to slaughter us, but for us to slaughter the natives.”
There was a pause. “… Really, my Lord? But you said-“
“Yes, this one was raising the dragons against us. But not because it expected the serpents to win. They know no number of mere beasts can overcome our fortress.” He held up the corpse, staring into its perfectly white eyes. “In its final moments the xeno spy revealed to me the aim of its infiltrations. Dead xenos torn apart before our guns. Slaves trudging into the mines of the Dark Mechanicus. The soldiers of Chaos marching through the streets of primitive cities. It revealed all of this with a most perverse sense of… satisfaction.”
“So then, these fools desire not our destruction, but those of their fellow xenos,” growled Kessler’s voice through the vox. “But why?”
“As I said before, I cannot say. This beast did not know.” Serith shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps it is some grudge between their nations that is beneath us, or some advantage in the natives’ downfall that is not obvious to us. If you brought me more of the insectoid wretches, I might be able to piece it together from the bits of their shattered minds.”
“I will see to it,” the Warpsmith rumbled. “If our strategies have been manipulated by this scum, then the creatures must pay for their hubris. Do you have a location of their central bastion?”
“I have an inkling, yes. I will join you momentarily.” Serith turned on his heel and walked back toward the exit. The guard unlocked the door and stepped back, staring at the Sorcerer.
“Are you… taking the changeling body with you?” he asked, perplexed.
“Yes. There is something I must do,” Serith replied cryptically as he entered the hall.
Back in the control room, Kessler summoned a regional map and started pointing out deployments.
“General, recall our forward reconnaissance teams and the interception deployments. The rest of the dragons and those imbecile yaks will live to see a few more solar cycles while we root out these pests.”
“Of course, Lord Kessler. May I presume we should have those teams redeployed once we locate the enemy base?” Harlin asked.
“Affirmative. Assault teams should begin a siege as soon as enemy presence is confirmed. As many of the beasts are to be captured as possible,” Kessler growled. “If the changelings think to use us as their pawns, then we shall extract the proper price from them.”
“Blood and souls, for the champions of Chaos!” Harlin bowed his head. “It will be done, Lord Kessler. The changelings will be yours.”
“Interrogative: Why is Lord Serith not proceeding to the briefing room?” Carmed asked suddenly.
Harlin and Kessler looked up from their planning, and then at the bank of vid-screens. They could see the Sorcerer moving across the hall in one corner, leaving the edge of the screen, and then moving across the breadth of another.
“Where is he going? Isn’t he going to brief us?” Harlin asked.
Carmed briefly checked the facility map. “It would appear he’s approaching the laboratorium lobby.”
“Why? Is he leaving?”
“I doubt he will be leaving. Lord Tellis is in that room.”
The three fell silent, fixing their attention on a screen on the bottom. The vid projection showed Tellis leaning against a wall, arms crossed over his chest and his boot tapping the floor impatiently.
Carmed raised the volume as the lobby door opened.
“Freakin’ finally! How long does it take to squeeze some info out of a damn bug?!” Tellis snarled, whirling toward the entrance.
“It takes longer if one makes sure to squeeze it ALL out,” Serith retorted, “but I’m done now. You can have this back.” He raised the changeling corpse into the air, and a few droplets of ooze dripped onto the floor.
Tellis froze. “Wha… Buggy? Is he…”
Serith threw the body into the Khornate’s face, and it hit Tellis with a wet smack. “Yes. He is. I killed him. He suffered substantially.”
“BASTARD!!” Tellis roared, hurling the body to the ground and advancing on the Sorcerer. “THEY PROMISED ME BUGGY WAS GOING TO LIVE!! WE WERE GOING TO HAVE COOL ADVENTURES AND… and play awesome pranks on the Royal Guard and… and…”
Tellis’s screaming gradually weakened to mumbling, and Serith chuckled.
“Your anguish DELIGHTS me.”
Serith didn’t even have time to flinch before four powered claws pierced through his helmet face and punched out of the back. Tellis swiped his arm to the side, throwing the sundered helmet across the room.
Serith’s armor remained standing, and then it raised an arm and gave the Chaos Lord a thumbs-up.
“Worth it,” said Serith’s discarded head.
“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!!!”
Carmed shook his head while Tellis started ripping apart Serith’s armor on the vid-screen. “Observatory: This unnecessary violence will significantly delay strategic assessment.”
“Yes, it will,” Kessler agreed. Several seconds passed in which pieces of Serith’s armor were flung in different direction across the lobby. A shoulder pauldron struck the vid-recorder, briefly jarring the image and leaving a deep crack in the sensor. “This is fun, though. Make sure you’re recording it.”
A series of weak beeps came from the Dark Techpriest. “Yes, Lord Kessler…”
****
???
“Pain is corollary to sentiment. My, my, my… isn’t that the truth? Look at you now, my dear! Hah!”
Twilight squirmed uncomfortably. “Maybe it is, sometimes. But that doesn’t mean that the sentiment is wrong, necessarily. Undesirable outcomes are painful. That’s reasonable, not some dark truth that we need to hide from.”
“Perhaps it is. But are you really being sentimental about the right things? Certainly there should be more discretion in your attachments if you find yourself sad over the minions of Chaos!”
Twilight let out an exasperated huff. “As someone who made ‘friends’ with us after being a mortal enemy of all ponykind, you should know better than that. It’s not that simple, Discord.”
Discord nodded calmly to himself while scribbling on a clipboard. “Isn’t it, though? Your bond to Chaos is one of necessity, not friendship. You sold yourself to them and used them for your own ends, to save your own people. Aren’t you a little too attached, my dear?”
Twilight shifted again, finding it difficult to get comfortable. She was lying on her back on a long couch, while Discord sat nearby in a large wooden chair.
“I… I don’t know. What is ‘too attached?’ Why shouldn’t I try to make friends with my allies? Why should I accept that I shouldn’t help them beyond my own immediate self-interest?”
Discord hummed to himself briefly, tapping the pencil eraser against the single fang jutting down from under his lip. “Well, for starters, it leads you to do stupid things like talk back to Chaos Space Marines, which is why you’re dying right now.”
Twilight scrunched up her nose and looked around. The room she and Discord were in was small, with perfectly white, porcelain-like walls. It reminded her of the psionic isolation cell, except that her improvised bedroom on the Harvest of Steel had a cogitator on the wall.
And a door. This room had no doors. A rather important detail, probably.
“How…” Twilight paused to take a deep breath, barely daring to meet Discord’s eyes. “How bad is it?”
Discord kept staring at his clipboard but pulled out a hand mirror from nowhere, holding it up in front of his guest. Twilight recoiled, sucking in air through clenched teeth. A great mass of darkness clung to where her left eye used to be. It writhed and pulsed, like a living shadow leaking from her eye socket.
The mare turned away, curling up more tightly on the couch.
“… Do you regret it?” Discord asked, putting away the mirror.
Twilight’s tail pulled inward, tucking the fan of striped purple hair between her hind legs. “… I don’t know. I… I didn’t…”
“You owe your life to Warsmith Solon,” Discord continued. “You swore to serve him. There’s nothing wrong, on the face of it, with eating a bolt shell trying to defend him.” The draconequus chuckled and leaned his chair back. “Of course, I doubt anyone would have thought it would end in such a way. But that’s what happens when you listen to your heart and not your head!”
A long pause.
“Do you think I was wrong about them?” Twilight whispered.
Discord looked up from his clipboard, grinning. “Are YOU asking ME to judge your decisions, Princess?”
Twilight briefly looked up at him. “Well… there’s not a lot else to do right now, so yes.”
“Well, then! Let’s review!” Discord said brightly, hurling his clipboard to the side. “Over the course of the alien invasions of our lovely home world, you nearly doomed everything right off the bat with an ill-considered assassination attempt!”
He snapped his fingers. In an instant they were transported back to Ferrous Dominus, or at least a still image of it. Twilight looked around and immediately recognized the scene. They were in a transformer relay housing in the manufactorum, standing among the butchered remains of the Tau assault team. Another Twilight stared up defiantly at Warsmith Solon with Gaela paused in mid-recoil. Her friends, the other Elements of Harmony and Spike, stood behind her, ready to face down the metal goliath.
“Such an anti-climax!” Discord said, standing up and shaking his head. “After you came so far and fought through the Tau assault forces, to think the mighty Warsmith would just shrug it all off and de-escalate like that! Even you must have been a little disappointed!”
Twilight cringed. “Well… I wouldn’t say-“
“But what if he didn’t? What if you sparked some latent fury in this ancient warrior? What if he possessed the dignity to remove your opposition properly, rather than dismissing you like a brief irrelevance?” the draconequus continued. “Would you like to see what would have happened?”
“No,” Twilight said immediately, shaking her head.
“Oh.” Discord seemed disappointed. Then he shrugged. “Well, too bad. I have the alternate timeline all loaded up and everything.” He snapped his fingers.
“What tireshome alien thinksh to shtand againsht me now? Acolyte Galea, what ish thish?” Solon demanded.
Gaela seemed lost for words briefly. “… F-Forgive me, Warsmith! Allow me to deal with this treacherous filth!” she swung her axe to the side, and a crackling power field enveloped it.
“Gaela, you’d best stay out of this,” Twilight Sparkle warned. “I don’t want to hurt you. But this has to end. NOW.”
“The only thing that ish going to end ish your impertinence, xeno,” Solon slurred. “Acolyte, with me. Kill them all.”
Discord snapped his fingers again, and the vision froze.
“Please note what’s happening in the back here,” he said, pointing over to the side.
Twilight was almost afraid to look, but she slowly turned her head in the direction Discord was pointing. He was pointing at Spike. The young dragon was frozen in an expression of slowly dawning horror as he stared at the empty vessel that had held the Elements of Harmony.
“If you recall, at this point in time you were counting on the Elements to give you a critical edge over the invaders. You may not be aware, but Serith had already stolen them from you. This is what the humans sometimes refer to as a ‘FUBAR’ situation.” Discord snickered.
His laughter slowly trailed off into a wispy sigh. “I can’t actually show the next few scenes due to the story rating. It gets a little intense. So let’s skip ahead to the end of the battle!”
“No. No, please, I don’t-“
Twilight’s protests fell silent as Discord snapped his fingers again. Their surroundings blurred, and then snapped back into focus.
Twilight flinched, her remaining eye wincing. Even after she had become a soldier, fighting regularly in the bloody maelstrom of war, even knowing that this vision was a false hypothetical, the sight before her seized her heart in way she’d only experienced once before.
Her friends – the other Elements of Harmony, Spike, and even Trixie – lay before her in a series of bloody smears; small, paltry additions to the corpse pile that the Tau had made before them. Twilight looked away quickly, not wanting to discern how much of each pony remained or how much they may have suffered. In doing so, her eyes fell upon herself.
Twilight Sparkle sat on the floor, one wing fully removed and her flank peppered with metal shards. The alicorn Princess was frozen mid-wail, tears streaming down her face and mixing with the blood beneath her hooves.
Gaela lay in front of her. Broken. Great seams of molten metal and flesh cut through the cyborg, and her own power axe was embedded in her chest. For a brief, horrifying instant, a dozen fleeting tactical scenarios passed through Twilight’s mind as to how she may have accomplished that. It would have surely made her sick if her current body was at all close to substantial.
“I killed her,” Twilight whispered.
Discord snorted, trying to hold back laughter. “Mare, you killed more than that. Check THIS out!”
He reached over and gently turned the pony’s head.
Twilight’s remaining iris shrunk to a pinprick. Solon lay in the middle of the room in a column of smoldering flame. Numerous transformer towers were burnt out, their cabling extending toward the goliath Astartes and attached to various points on his armor. His body was burnt and fused together at the joints, locking him in a pose of perpetual agony, like a statue of a man being struck down.
“I… I killed… Solon?” she whispered, her voice reduced to a squeak.
“Well, of course you did. He lasted about two minutes. You’re SCARY when you’re mad,” Discord stepped in front of the alicorn, stooping over to look her in the eye. “Of course, he’s not really, completely, 100% no-take-backs dead. But he won’t survive the explosion once the little Tau pest underground successfully sabotages the fusion reactor. Nor will you, actually. A warlord and genius engineer thousands of years old, incinerated because he underestimated an adorable purple pony!”
Discord laughed. Twilight continued to stare miserably.
“Incidentally,” the draconequus said, suddenly turning serious again, “in this timeline the Emerald Dawn Project fails. Sliver is so enraged by the death of his master – by the Tau, or so he thinks – that he annihilates Black Point with a cunning and vicious counter-attack. The beacon being constructed is seized and the Company fleet departs, abandoning its helpless ships. The Tau fleet arrives to find its plan foiled. They never manage to lure the Ork fleet to Centaur III. The Tau Empire’s defensive fails, and enormous swathes of their empire are destroyed.” He turned his head, staring at some point far off in the distance. “But Equestria remains untouched. Sliver never considers attacking it. Celestia’s reign continues, uninterrupted by unsavory alliances or more interplanetary strife. As more and more death spreads through the surrounding galaxy, your home nation is safe and sound. What a happy ending!” Discord clasped his hands together and grinned.
Twilight stared at the floor.
“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m pretty sure they put up a new window in the throne room or something to remember you by,” Discord said, patting the mare on the head.
Twilight looked up. “You said this is a review of my decisions. So what’s your point here? This branch is from Solon’s decision, not mine.”
“My point?” Discord blinked, tilting his head to the side. “No point, really. I just like watching the timelines where you kill Solon.”
Twilight managed an impressively deadly glare for a pony with one eye.
“What? It’s hilarious! You’d be able to appreciate it more if you could have seen the fight itself. The part where you ram his face into a transformer and then overload it is THE BEST, I swear!”
“Bring me back,” Twilight commanded, her voice devoid of emotion.
Discord sighed and snapped his fingers. Instantly they were back in the sterile white room. There was no couch this time, which suited Twilight just as well. It hadn’t helped her comfort anyhow.
She looked up at Discord. “Can you see their future? Can you see what will happen to everyone?”
“No,” Discord answered curtly. “By which I mean yes, but not in a way that is either practical or useful.”
“That does seem to be a consistent theme with you,” the alicorn grumbled.
Silence.
“… I don’t regret it,” Twilight said after a moment, staring at the wall. “I mean, I regret SOME things, obviously. Mostly I regret only prepping that shield spell before I started talking to Warsmith Kataris rather than casting it outright. But I don’t regret allying with Chaos. I don’t regret trying to make friends with the Iron Warriors.”
A wan smile crossed her lips. “Gaela’s going to be disappointed when she learns I’m not coming back. Spike will be devastated. But I’m sure she’ll take care of him.”
“She’s part of a new army now, you know,” Discord warned. “And part of that army is still back home. The fleet will return to Equestria with some new, tiresome maniac at its head.”
“Yes. But things will be okay.” She chuckled humorlessly. “Maybe it’s just the prerogative of the dead to make unfounded assumptions like this, but I trust our friends in the 38th.”
“You shouldn’t,” Discord retorted blithely. “They don’t care about you. Our world is one of billions to them, distinguished only by an arbitrary designation and an estimate of how much raw material they can suck from its crust.”
“I know. But I believed in them anyway. And that much trust saved Equestria and got me to the other end of the galaxy.” She smiled more broadly. “For every time we’ve surprised them, they’ve surprised us back. We’re stronger together. Solon knows that.”
Discord leaned against the wall, his mismatched arms crossed over his chest. “Solon is no longer in charge. He’s so pathetic that a handful of other Chaos Lords decided amongst themselves that he didn’t deserve his army anymore, and he barely had the nerve to disagree. He’s so weak that YOU had to stand up for him, and then he stood by and watched as you were executed for the trouble. He’s a miserable failure, and he was still the BEST Iron Warrior that Equestria could have hoped to encounter.”
Twilight turned to look at him. She was still smiling, which sat rather uneasily with the dark hole that had been drilled into her left eye. “He’s my Warsmith and he’s my friend, and I wouldn’t have him any other way.”
“He got you killed!” Discord said incredulously.
“He saved all of ponykind, myself included. I got myself killed,” Twilight countered.
Her smile dropped, and she looked away again. “Speaking of death, am I going to be moving on soon? The afterlife isn’t just talking to you for eternity, is it? I’m pretty sure I haven’t done anything so heinous as to deserve that kind of fate.”
Discord shook his head. “Well, that’s-“
An explosive pulse suddenly came from Twilight’s body.
She wasn’t sure what kind of energy it was; she didn’t know what physical rules this space obeyed, and she didn’t exactly have time to observe much before she doubled over in pain and collapsed onto the floor. The mare screamed, only to be silenced as another pulse rippled through her body and dragged the air from her lungs.
Discord was buffeted, flinching back and squinting his eyes. When the second pulse hit, small cracks started to appear in the walls of the room. Beams of white light poured in through the cracks, shining with an intensity that was almost laser-like.
He looked completely stunned at first, but then turned his head up toward the ceiling. “Are you serious?! You’re really doing this?!”
“EEEEEAAAAAAAUGH!!” Twilight kicked and flapped wildly while she writhed on the floor, overtaken by inexplicable, invisible torment.
Another pulse blasted outward from her body. Discord leaned into this one, preventing himself from being knocked back, but even more of the walls were torn open by the blast. So much light was flooding the room now that it was becoming nearly impossible to see.
“Fine,” the draconequus shrugged. “Have it your way, rustbucket.”
Discord approached Twilight, pushing forward even as pulse after pulse came from the struggling pony. Soon the light became blinding, masking everything in hot white and making vision impossible. Discord stood over the struggling alicorn, and then he pinned the mare down with his taloned hand and brought his lips close to her ears.
“Time to wake up, Princess. Your master wants you back.”
****
Medrengard
Bastion Complex Kel-Teth
Twilight gasped in pain, her back arching reflexively.
She couldn’t do much more than that. Wherever she was, whatever was happening, she was firmly restrained. She was on her back, wings spread and pinned. Her legs were suspended firmly in the air above her with servo arms holding them in place. Her head was locked in a brace, kept aloft over whatever she was on.
Her eyes opened, and light bombarded her.
No… not her eyes. Her eye. As the light blurs slowly changed to shapes, and considering she couldn’t move at all to shift her field of vision, it became immediately clear that the left side of it was missing.
She had a vague idea why that was, but it was hard to think. Her head ached terribly, and a hundred other knife-points of pain covered various other parts of her body. They were mostly concentrated in her head, neck, and back.
The light above her finally moved into a sharp enough focus and the throbbing in her head settled down enough that Twilight could finally take in her surroundings. Above her was a mechanical wheel covered in servo arms attached to its circumference and hanging from the ceiling. The ceiling itself was a maze of piping and bundled cables, with a few gaps between the various tubes to expose lumens behind them.
There was surely more to this place, but Twilight still couldn’t move her head. That was troubling, but among her spiraling thoughts and the persistent shredding of her nerve endings, she didn’t know exactly how concerned she should be about that.
Then the left side of her vision blinked on, and Twilight’s state of confusion jumped to a whole new level.
System active. Boot sequence engaged. Optical engrams loading.
The words appeared in front of her, colored black on a plane of green. That plane now took up half her normal field of view, and was swiftly breaking apart into a grid that then expanded and distorted. Grid lines became discrete shapes, the shapes combined to form objects, and then the objects shaded and shifted to show spatial perspective. The green monochrome suddenly filled with pigment, and before Twilight understood what was happening her vision was restored in its totality.
Optical engrams online.
Cogitator systems online.
Neuromatrix hubs online.
Noosphere codex registering… Complete.
All systems functional.
Pain and panic swiftly faded from Twilight’s attention as she read the words that scrolled across her left “eye.” This sort of text interface was quite familiar to her, but she was used to seeing it blinking across the visor of a power armor helmet. She was sure she wasn’t wearing such a helmet now, barring the possibility that this was all some kooky hallucination brought on by the Warp or sudden head trauma.
“Good, good… Everything ish working perfectly. I’m shure you’re in a lot of pain right now, but it should fall within a tolerable shpectrum shoon enough.”
Twilight’s eye – the one that she could still feel and control as a proper organ, that is – widened at the voice.
“S… Solon?” she gasped, her voice still weak.
“Hello, Princesh. Welcome back.”