Everfree Forest
3:44 P.M.
Celestia carefully kept all traces of anger or resentment off her face as she watched the dark cloak sweep through the forest in front of her. But the hooded figure seemed to somehow sense her animosity. He looked over his shoulder to meet her gaze with sickly yellow eyes and give her a matching grin. He slowly raised the small cylinder in his left hand and brushed his thumb over the button on top of it. He didn’t press the button, but the motion was enough to redirect some of Celestia’s attention to the device attached to her neck. Even in its passive state, it made her mane stand even more on end from the electricity running through it, and the sergeant in command of the CompForce troopers that made up the rest of her escort had made certain that she knew exactly what would happen if the “shock collar” was activated.
“Do these people think you’re still Malen Valerious?” she asked the figure ahead of her. “Or do they realize what’s really controlling that body… Bogan.”
A confused expression crossed his lurid face, but his cruel smile quickly reasserted itself. “Oh, Celestia. For all your innate power, your understanding of the true nature of the Force is quite pathetic. Me, Bogan? Not at all. But perhaps, if you survive long enough, I’ll have the pleasure of introducing you to it.”
They emerged into the clearing surrounding the Imperial base. The humans’ progress in restoring it was remarkable for the short time they’d had since Celestia’s attack, but as she looked around, it was clear that they were having their own difficulties. Earthen ramparts, a moat, and the beginnings of a wooden palisade had replaced the chain-link fence and guard towers, the spikes on the top of the main spire had been removed, and some of the craters that had been formed on the base’s grounds during her attack still hadn’t been filled in. Where one of the huge cannons that destroyed Ponyville had once been, a group of humans were arguing over a replacement that looked like it had been thrown together out of mismatched spare parts in less than a day. A dusting of snow over everything showed that keeping up their standards of sterile cleanliness had fallen off their list of priorities. All around her, shivering Imperials looked up from their work and stared at her with looks of hate and fear – and, in a few cases, a faint glimmer of hope. But as bad as the situation looked for the humans on the ground, Celestia knew the war couldn’t be won so long as the Imperial fleet was still in orbit.
The procession came to a halt in front of the base’s front door. The sergeant turned to her and explained, “The governor’s coming down from his flagship to accept your surrender personally.” After a few minutes, a squadron of TIE fighters screamed overhead, followed by a shuttle touching down in the clearing. The shuttle’s ramp dropped, and after the steam cleared, Gavrisom emerged, flanked by two Navy troopers. He approached Celestia and gave her a shallow bow.
“Your Highness. My apologies for the collar, but I have to put the safety of my men first. I hope you understand.”
“Of course,” she graciously replied. The collar didn’t pose any real threat to her, as she could escape from it faster than it could be activated. Her objection was the principle of it, and she knew by now that the humans didn’t care about “principle.”
Gavrisom led Celestia and her escort into the base. As they walked through the halls, humans poked their heads out of doorways. Most were silent, watching her with the same emotions on their faces as the humans outside. Some jeered at her, shouting human profanity and short but explicit descriptions of what they wanted to do to her corpse. A few cheered. One pair of humans broke down in sobs and hugged each other. After the procession ascended a turbolift and walked down a hallway that felt much longer than it likely was, a thick, metal door slid open in front of them, revealing a large room filled with electronic equipment. And standing in the doorway was Aerin, flanked by two officers, one in gray and one in white. He didn’t have the usual hateful scowl on his face that he usually wore when interacting with ponies. Instead, much more disturbingly to Celestia, his mouth was contorted into a sick grin. “Hail the Emperor,” he said, raising his right arm in front of him. The humans beside him repeated the gesture.
“Hail the Emperor! Hail the Emperor! Hail the Emperor!”
Celestia walked into the room, her head held high.
Canterlot Castle
3:47 P.M.
“Your Majesty, you’re in no shape to –”
“I’m fine, Flash,” Twilight interrupted. “I might not be able to fly yet, but I can walk and use my magic. It’s enough.”
“I… Of course, Your Majesty. As you say.”
Twilight sighed. “Look, Flash. I know you’re worried about me. And I appreciate it, really I do. But with everything that’s happened… Well, this is something I just have to do.”
“At least let me gather your friends. They can help you.”
“How?” Twilight retorted. “Pinkie, Rarity, and Fluttershy aren’t fighters. Rainbow Dash has barely moved since she lost her wing. And Applejack left to be with her family when she heard Sweet Apple Acres had been attacked. Even if I could convince her to leave them to help me, it would take too long to go there first.”
“A battalion of Royal Guards, then.”
“No. You know the humans always seem to realize whenever we move more than a company of Guards at a time. Besides, they would just slow me down. No, this is something I have to do myself. With Toy Box’s help, of course.” She looked up. “Ready, Toy Box?”
“Ready, Princess!”
Everfree Imperial Garrison
7:03 P.M.
Celestia groaned internally as she lowered her teacup from her lips, making sure her external expression remained courteous. Four hours of pleasantries, dissimulation, and minutiae. All a normal part of politics, of course, and normally something that didn’t bother her much. In fact, things were moving much quicker than she would expect, given the sheer scale of the treaty being drawn up. However, the topic being discussed – not to mention the beings she was discussing it with – made it unusually galling. Aerin’s sickeningly cheerful smile had twisted into a disgusted grimace as soon as the first round of tea was served, and it hadn’t changed since. Celestia wasn’t quite sure whether that was because he hated tea, or because Gavrisom had chosen that moment to assure her that the Imperials had no intention of carrying out punitive massacres. Gavrisom’s own expression had remained pleasant, while that of the white-uniformed officer was totally inscrutable. The eyes of the last officer in gray had glazed over half an hour into the talks, and he kept taking excessively long glances at his rather ostentatious gold pocket watch. Malen watched from the side of the room, his ever-present sadistic grin never wavering.
Gavrisom had just finished explaining how the Empire planned to manage Equestria, which did nothing to allay Celestia’s suspicions that the “Empire” was nothing but a military dictatorship despite all human claims to the contrary. Everything was “military governor,” “reorganization and nationalization of Planetary Security Forces,” and “subordinate to Imperial High Command.” Any time pony civilian government was mentioned, it was either to say it would be abolished or to say which Imperial officer the civilian government would answer to. But the removal of important pony officials in the higher levels of government raised a very important question, one Celestia couldn’t just ignore any longer. “What will happen to myself, Princess Twilight, Princess Cadance, and Prince Shining?”
Gavrisom and Aerin looked at each other. Gavrisom’s lips set into a thin line, while a glint appeared in Aerin’s eye and a hint of a smile grew at the corners of his mouth. “Will you tell it, or can I?” the general asked.
“Her,” Gavrisom corrected him, seemingly automatically. “And… I’ll tell her.” The two faced Celestia again, and Gavrisom sighed before replying, “I regret to inform you, Your Highness, that standard Imperial policy is that all higher government officials on a conquered world who did not collaborate with Imperial forces are to be… executed. And in monarchies, that means all members of the royal family. I’m sorry.”
Celestia was silent for a long moment. It was exactly the response she’d expected, of course. Mercy wasn’t a trait these humans seemed to possess. But some small part of her had held out hope that maybe, just maybe, their time in Equestria had changed them for the better. The hope, it seemed, of a madpony. “I… understand,” she finally said. “But I’ll have to talk with them before I sign the treaty. I can’t make an agreement that will result in their deaths without asking their permission first.”
“Go ahead,” Gavrisom replied. “I realize this can’t be easy for any of you. I wish there was some way around it, but that decision was made at a much higher paygrade than mine. Still, I’m sure they’ll realize that their sacrifice will save lives. In the meantime, I propose a one-month ceasefire so you can talk to them, and so you can all prepare yourselves.” He held out his right hand. “Agreed?”
Celestia slid her right hoof out of its shoe and gave him a hoofshake. “Agreed.” She turned to give Aerin a hoofshake, but she hesitated. His hand was extended, but it was still enclosed in a black glove.
Gavrisom glanced at Aerin. “General…” he said softly, reproach and a hint of warning in his voice. Aerin muttered something that Celestia guessed was probably obscene, but he removed his glove and shook her hoof. As he did so, Celestia noticed that his hand lacked fingernails and was just as scarred and blistered as the corresponding side of his face. She also noticed that he didn’t put his glove back on after the hoofshake, instead tucking it into his belt, and that he kept his hand well away from his side.
“With that settled,” Gavrisom said, “I’ll alert all Imperial forces to our ceasefire. I trust you’ll do the same, Your Highness, though I understand your rather… underdeveloped… communications technology means it will take some time for the message to reach your farthest outposts. Good night, Your Highness. I’m glad we could come to –”
He stopped as an officer got up from one of the machines filling the room and walked briskly to the group. “Excuse me, Governor, but there’s something of vital importance I need to tell you. You too, General.” The officer looked over at Malen. “Inquisitor, if you don’t mind, I think this will also be of interest to you.”
Gavrisom bowed to Celestia. “Excuse me. This should only take a moment.”
The four humans walked over to the machine the officer had been sitting at and started talking in hushed tones. After a moment, Aerin let out an outraged-sounding, “I should’ve guessed!” and spun towards Celestia, but Gavrisom immediately pulled him back into the huddle. They whispered for a minute longer. Then Gavrisom’s shoulders heaved in a clear sigh, and he gave a short nod. Celestia ripped off the shock collar and hurled it across the room less than half a second before it lit up with crackling fingers of electricity. She looked back at the humans just in time to receive Aerin’s right hook directly to her muzzle. He immediately followed it up with a left hook that blacked out the right side of her vision. The durasteel toe of his jackboot slammed into her stomach, making her gasp in pain. Before she could recover, she had been dragged to the floor, her good eye at the bottom so she could only see gray metal. Something came down on her head with a huge amount of force, and she would have screamed if she had the breath to do so. She blindly pushed out with her magic and was met with a shout and the sound of shattering glass. Then her half-blackened vision was replaced for an instant with a field of white agony.
As her sight slowly restored itself, she heard Malen’s low chuckle. “Would you look at that,” he said, his voice laced with dark humor. “It looks like I get the chance to introduce you to Bogan after all.” Then her vision turned white again, before finally being replaced with merciful black nothingness.
Location: Wreck of the Ardent
Time: Moments ago…
“Hey, Maj, we got a chicken incoming, four o’clock.”
Major Dril frowned. “What are you on about, corporal? We aren’t getting reinforcements.”
“Yeah, well, it’s coming anyways. Seven klicks out and closing.”
“You know what the punishment for spice use is, corporal.”
“Hey, you wanna see for yourself, fine with me,” the corporal said, shrugging and holding the macrobinoculars out to Dril. He accepted them and looked in the direction the corporal pointed.
“Huh. So it is. By the Emperor, look at how it’s walking! Is the pilot drunk? What’s he even doing here?” He lowered the microbinoculars and shouted over his shoulder. “Nok, hail that schutta, ask him why he’s here, and give him an earful ’bout what a disgraceful pilot he is.”
“Yes, sir.” Over a minute passed before the comm officer spoke again. “Sir, he isn’t responding to attempts a communication.”
“Keep trying.”
“Still nothing, sir.”
Dril frowned and raised a finger to his ear. “Major Dril to Base, Major Dril to Base. Come in, Base. Over.”
“We’re reading you, Major. What is it? Over.”
“We’ve got an AT-ST inbound at full speed, east southeast. It isn’t responding to our hails. What’s going on? Over.”
“Major, we have no walkers active in that area. You are cleared to engage on your discretion. Over.”
“Understood, Base. Out.” He switched to his battalion’s channel. “All forces, we have hostiles inbound. Get to the fortifications.”
The crash site went strangely quiet as Imperials dropped the tools they were using to cut sheets of durasteel off the wreck and rushed to the trenches. There was a palpable sense of dread in the air as the AT-ST came into view. The Imperial battalion had only been equipped to fend off small numbers of infantry – the possibility of the ponies getting their hooves on a working armored vehicle had never been considered. The only weapons the battalion had which stood even the slightest chance of disabling an AT-ST were two E-Webs and their grenades. The Imperials never even got a chance to use them. The AT-ST’s chin cannons far outranged the E-Webs, and the walker’s own E-Web cut down any troopers who tried to rush it from the trenches.
The battle barely lasted ten minutes.