//------------------------------// // Deliverance // Story: Entrenchment // by SFaccountant //------------------------------// Entrenchment An Age of Iron Story Chapter 16 Deliverance **** Ponyville – Nethalican “Death… is to be feared.” “This is a simple truth, ancient and self-evident. Self-preservation is the oldest, most primitive impulse. The foundation of survival. We need no faith, no science, no abstract philosophy to turn our eyes from the abyss and flee to sanctuary. The terror of death reaches every species. Even the brutal Ork, infamous for its reckless love of violence and disdain for injury, will flee the field in the face of certain destruction. Its calculation of The End differs from our own, but not its answer. It must live. Death must be avoided.” Virgil strode between the pews of the Chaos Temple, his hands clasped behind his back. Clergymen scratched notes on lecterns. Men cowered on the benches, hugging weapons or books or iron Chaos amulets. An armored body knelt at the altar below the quivering Warp portal, speaking in incoherent whispers to entities unknown. Near the back of the temple was Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo, their eyes fixed on the preacher. They were easily the most cheerful worshipers present, standing up in their pews with their front hooves up against the row in front of them. “That brings us, of course, to Chaos,” Virgil said. “Our faith is rife with death. Our creed spreads terror and devastation across the stars. Ruin, pillage, genocide… We are harbingers of death, and it is not only enemies and unbelievers that are dragged into the Warp by the bloody claws of Chaos.” Virgil reached the end of the pews and turned around sharply, the chains from his manacles rattling around him. Then he started walking back the other way. “To know Chaos is to fear death, yet understand it. It is to know violence and terror in the most intimate way. To surround yourself with carnage and destruction. To make death an ally.” “Blessed by Khorne are we, may his foes drown in an ocean of blood and their skulls be heaped before his feet,” intoned several other cultists. “Woooo! Blood for the Blood God, yeah!” followed Scootaloo, speaking a little more enthusiastically than was strictly necessary. “The daemon slaughters mortals with unrestrained glee, yet it is also the mortals’ key to immortality. To know Chaos is to seek what one fears. To accept what repulses. To learn that which defies reason.” Virgil reached the other end of the pews and turned around again. “This is the primordial truth, our grand bargain with the Gods that thirst for our demise,” Virgil continued. “Let terror into your hearts, my brothers. Not as your master. But as your ally. Death comes. Take its hand.” The creak of iron hinges came from the entrance, interrupting the sermon. Virgil stopped pacing. Several cultists and priests looked up to see who had entered. A tall woman slipped into the temple interior, clothed in a black hooded robe. Her hair was a dark bluish-green, and her skin had a slightly gray hue to it. Two more people followed her inside. They were shorter, and their hoods hid their features more completely. Virgil watched in silence while the newcomers looked around at the temple. Then he unclasped his hands and spoke to the worshipers. “It seems my service will be ending early. Circumstances have accelerated. Please proceed to the exit, my brothers.” The men looked confused, but did not disobey. They stood up, bowed to the Chaos Priest, and then scurried away to the door as if they had been waiting for the chance to leave. “What’s the matter, Father Virgil? Why we gotta leave?” Three particular cultists in the pews seemed reluctant to depart. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle looked crushed that the sermon had ended early, while Scootaloo was angrily sizing up the woman who had just entered. “You may stay, if you want,” Virgil said with a disaffected shrug. “Perhaps you may learn something…” “Wait, but didn’t you say you were ending the service?” Sweetie asked, confused. “Indeed I did. But Chaos teaches us in many ways, little one,” the priest replied cryptically. Chrysalis stepped aside to let the cultists leave, eying the Chaos Priest suspiciously. Her two guards held the door open for them. Two more changelings outside watched them leave while standing in front of the Nethalican’s entrance. Although she suspected the priest of some sort of trickery, she couldn’t focus on him for long; the interior of the Chaos temple was just so… distracting. The skulls. The statues and reliefs. The absolutely repugnant incense. The hideous, quasi-industrial architecture. Everything within this hallowed space seemed designed to offend her senses. And then, of course, there was the Dark Portal. She had sensed it the moment she laid hands on the temple doors, but compared to seeing it that sensation was akin to tasting the condensed moisture clinging to the outside of a glass of fine elixir. Like an eye of flame captured within a ring of metal, it thrummed with a level of power Chrysalis had quite literally never imagined. Energy spilled into the room freely; it wasn’t love, but it was… close. Close enough that she was passively absorbing it without needing to actively feed. She had absorbed more power just walking into the room than she had gained draining the love of entire villages in the past. “Tox was right,” she whispered under her breath. “Is there something I can help you with, Miss?” Chrysalis snapped out of her dazed state when Virgil spoke to her. The Chaos Priest and several other clergy were staring at her, having interrupted their previous activities. “Yes… Yes, I believe you can,” she stepped forward, looking over the dark-skinned man. His expression was… odd. Unassuming and attentive. Uninterested, but not quite bored. She couldn’t get a read on his emotions with her more exotic senses, either, which she found slightly alarming. Was he some sort of machine created to look like a human? Bizarre. “My name is Chryss. I wish to learn about… this. The Nethalican.” She gestured to the Dark Portal. “What, you weren’t briefed?” asked a scribe. “Who are you, anyway? What division are you with?” Chrysalis was going to concoct a cover story on the spot, but to her surprise Virgil answered her question before she could address the scribe’s. “The Nethalican is an unholy icon of the Dark Gods’ power burned into the fabric of space and time,” the priest explained. “It is the core of our power on this world. A sliver of Chaos itself, buried into this hallowed ground, forced open, and directed to serve us.” Chrysalis smiled, intrigued. “Go on…” “The Dark Portal serves as a conduit to the Warp. It floods this place with the stuff of Chaos, and allows us to hear the voices of the Gods more clearly. In turn, our prayers are channeled more easily to the lords of the Empyrean.” Virgil clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Such a conduit also possesses certain… utilitarian uses. But that is not my concern.” Chrysalis put a finger to her chin, staring at the roiling gateway thoughtfully. Her first instinct was to scoff and dismiss the muttering about Gods – internally, at least – but her encounter with Tox was still fresh in her mind. Whether the malign will of some ancient being or simply magic run amok, there was great danger in this place. A low chuckle came from the temple’s altar. “What a curious turn of events. Is this the culmination of some fell trap set by the Dark Gods? Or merely arrogance from a hapless beast who knows no better?” The armored body kneeling before the altar stood up. “Either way, I welcome you to our temple, insect queen. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Serith.” Serith turned around, his force glaive in hand. Chrysalis recoiled, her face twisting into an angry sneer. “Insect Queen?! What is that supposed to mean?” Chrysalis demanded hotly. Her eyes glittered with green light, and her magic reached out invisibly to the Iron Warrior. Her spell broke apart against his body as if it were a dirt clod hurled against his chest plate. She wasn’t even sure the man noticed. The priests started shuffling away, toward the walls of the temple, while the three fillies looked back and forth between the woman and the Astartes. “You know precisely what it means,” Serith said, raising a single hand. “Come now, shed your ridiculous facade. You barely fooled the children.” He raised his free hand in front of him. “There will be no lies within these sacred halls, my Queen. Only truth… no matter how unbecoming.” Chrysalis tensed, and Serith snapped his fingers. The sound was shrill and sharp, no doubt due to the adamantine gauntlet, and she felt an invisible surge of magic much like her own. It hadn’t been directed at her, though. The drone on her left began trembling, and then screamed and grasped the sides of his head. Chrysalis recoiled, nearly knocking over her other bodyguard. “NO!! NO, PLEASE!!” the drone shrieked, his eyes bulging and his body quivering. “What are you?! Why are there… s-so many voices?!” A flash of green energy burst around the drone, as if the human form was simply a bubble to be popped. The changeling collapsed into a heap immediately afterward, its real body exposed, twitching and shrieking all the while. The fillies gasped in shock. “Changelin’! Those’re changelin’s!” Apple Bloom yelped. “Spies! Get ‘em!” Scootaloo snarled, leaping up onto the back rest of the pews. “I, uh, I knew that. Yup. I knew all along they were changelings,” Sweetie Belle said unconvincingly. Despite the exposure of her guard, Chrysalis noted that nobody but the three young ponies seemed upset. The Chaos Sorcerer lowered his hand, clearly waiting for her to respond. Most of the Chaos clergy simply glared at her silently, while Virgil seemed completely unmoved. The head priest calmly walked over to the CMC and picked up each of the fillies in his arms, and then carried them over to the rest of the spectators. “… Well, then. It seems the subtle approach has failed.” Chrysalis was surrounded by emerald-colored flame, and in an instant her robe and body burned away. The twisted, hole-ridden, quadrupedal form of the Changeling Queen stood in its place, staring at Serith through blazing green eyes narrowed into slits. The remaining bodyguard hesitated only a moment before it too returned to its true body. “You wish to resolve this the hard way?” “My current Legion masters ALWAYS choose the hard way,” Serith chuckled. “Now, let us pray to the Gods of Chaos!” “I didn’t come here to PRAY, fool,” Chrysalis snarled. Her horn pulsed, and several chains, pews, and braziers near her started trembling in the wake of her aura. Blazing green power crawled up and down her horn, and the other changeling guard yelped and shrunk back. “If I need to destroy you all to seize this place, then I’ll destroy you all. The Dark Portal will be mine.” Serith laughed. “My Dear Queen, you misunderstand. To the Dark Gods, battle is as pure a ceremony as any trite ritual or devout plea!” He lifted his free hand again, and then clenched it into a fist. The changeling on the ground shrieked again, and then started thrashing about as if it were being choked. “Our attacks are our prayers. Our pain is our offering. Our hatred is our deliverance.” He suddenly twisted his arm in the air. A cracking noise came from the struggling changeling guard, and it twitched one last time before slumping lifelessly onto the floor. “… And death is our reward,” the Sorcerer finished, taking up his glaive in both hands. “But whose death shall it be? The Lords of the Empyrean have not yet spoken these secrets to me.” “You won’t live long enough to hear any more of their gibbering,” Chrysalis snarled. She turned slightly to address her other guard. “Lock and barricade the door. I’ll take care of this scum.” Chrysalis was half-expecting the Chaos priests to charge her or draw weapons, but instead the dark clergy knelt along the wall. They clasped their hands together and bowed their heads, and then whispered chants filled the temple. Only Virgil kept watching the imminent conflict, his expression as bland and unassuming as when she first came through the door. He was also still carrying the fillies, in the crook of one arm, and the young ponies flailed and cheered while in his grip. “Get ‘em, Serith!” “You’re in for it now, buggy!” “I don’t like either of you, so I’m rooting for injuries!” A pulsing blue light surrounded Serith’s body, and psychic hoarfrost flashed around his vambrace. “Come, my Queen. I will inscribe the glory of Chaos into your very soul.” He swept his glaive to the side, and a quivering sphere of energy collected over his palm. “I’ve seen the ‘glory of Chaos,’ Serith. I’ve scraped it off the walls of my hive and tossed it into the deep pits with the other trash.” Chrysalis grinned, fully exposing her fangs to her opponent. A writhing arc of bright green energy crawled up her horn. Virgil looked back and forth between Serith and Chrysalis, and then raised his free arm. “Round one. Fight.” His arm fell. **** Ferrous Dominus – sector 19 Lander lots serra-class cargo transport T-338, bridge *Fio’o, I hope you have an explanation for why we’re still on the ground.* The Head Engineer winced at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind. In front of him, a pair of humans glared defiantly at the half-dozen Fire Warriors aiming at them. Several Tau of the Earth Caste sat at the controls, looking appropriately nervous. Most of those controls, incidentally, were inactive. Many of the screens were in stand-by mode. There was nothing to suggest the crew was even preparing to lift off. *The crew saw what happened outside, Shas’o Voidsong. They are… reluctant.* Before she could respond, one of the lower-ranked Earth Caste gasped in surprise. *Shas’o Voidsong? You’re free? You did this?* He stood up from his seat uncertainly. *When… How…* *We are too pressed for time, Fio’la,* she said imperiously, waving a hand to dismiss him. Then she stepped closer to the humans and switched languages. “Now, then… What’s the problem, pilot?” One of the humans, a short woman covered in a web of crude arrow tattoos, craned her head up to look Voidsong in her sensors. Then she sucked in a breath and spit directly into it, splattering mucus over the primary optic. “That’s as good a summary of the problem as any, Shas’o,” the Head Engineer sighed. Voidsong paused for a few seconds, then turned to address him. “Fio’o, do we require both these humans to lift off?” “Uh… No, but-“ He was interrupted by the howl of plasma fire. The woman’s corpse hit the floor in a smoldering heap, smoke pouring from the black lump that used to be her torso. “You’re our pilot now,” Voidsong said, pointing to the man standing next to her. “Hurry up and get this lander in the air.” In retrospect, it really shouldn’t have come as such a surprise when a second wad of mucus splashed against her sensor head. “You want void passage, grayskin? Get out and fly there yourself,” the pilot said with a grin. “… I am perplexed,” Voidsong admitted after a moment. She lifted a blocky finger to her battlesuit’s head and swiped away the spit. “You’re a pirate. I’ve taken this ship. You work for me now, or you die. Am I missing something? Is my Gothic incorrect?” “I refuse,” snarled the remaining human. “I serve – in order – Trademaster Delgan, Warsmith Solon, and the Dark Gods. Treacherous xenos can get out and push if they want this heap off the ground.” “Why do you care?” Voidsong demanded, her voice starting to get heated. “You serve an army that attaches no value to your life. You have no noble aims to aspire to. Your martyrdom is meaningless. Why would you die to oppose us?” “I’d rather die right away and spite you than work for you and die when we get to orbit.” “Work for me and you needn’t die at all. Not today, or in the foreseeable future,” Voidsong offered. “I don’t believe you. I might have a minute ago, but…” he tapped a boot against the dead body next to him. Voidsong’s head again swiveled toward the Fio’o. *This is a waste of time. Is it possible for you to lift us off? Are the controls that complicated?* The Head Engineer recoiled. *Me? I… I don’t know. I suppose I could figure it out, but we’re going to be navigating through a war zone! And then initiating a manual docking sequence in orbit!* *Can you and your men do it, Fio’o?* Voidsong pressed. *I can give you the time you need, but we must begin immediately.* He fumbled around with his engineering tablet for several seconds. *I think… Yes. These are the control schemata. It will take some time to decrypt the access codex, I think, but we can manage this.* *Good.* Her plasma gun released a shrill whine while it started charging, and the remaining human clenched his teeth in anger. *No! Shas’o, stop!* One of the lesser Earth Caste jumped up from his seat, rushing between the plasma weapon and the pilot. *Please! This is barbaric! You can’t do this!* The weapon did not discharge. It didn’t move its aim away, either. Voidsong’s battlesuit stared down at the panicked worker in silence. *I don’t know why you betrayed the gue’la. I don’t know why we’re abandoning them in their hour of need. Since we reached this world, everything has gone wrong and even Tau’va has failed us!* He took a deep breath. *But I can’t let you do this! What you’re doing now isn’t warfare! It’s murder!* *Your objection is noted, Fio’la,* Voidsong replied blandly. *Now sit down and be quiet.* *Why?!* the worker demanded, his legs quivering. *Why must we do this?! Why have you returned to us just to-* The plasma rifle fired twice, boring a hole first through the worker and then the pilot. The bodies slumped onto the floor atop the other scorched corpse, and an exasperated sigh came from the battlesuit’s speaker. *Defiance once is failure. Defiance twice, treason.* Her sensor head swiveled to the side. *Get to work, Fio’o. If we wait too long, whoever wins the useless tug of war over this pit of smog and metal isn’t going to wait long before dismantling this vessel.* The Head Engineer’s face was ashen. His eyes darted between the corpse of his subordinate and Voidsong. *Shas’o, that… he… he didn’t know. I didn’t have time to tell him our plan! He was among the evacuees when we-* *GET. TO. WORK,* Voidsong repeated. The lower-ranked workers flinched and shrunk back. The Fio’o swallowed nervously and nodded. *Good. Shas’ui, I’m going to do a deck sweep. Find someplace to stash these bodies.* Voidsong turned and stomped out the bridge entrance. The Fire Warriors shared a glance, and then took hold of the corpses and started dragging them behind her. The Earth Caste watched them leave nervously, and then returned to work. Most started activating dataslates, while the Head Engineer linked his tablet to the primary control station. Voidsong moved much faster than the Fire Warriors, and soon she had rounded a corner and walked out of earshot. *That was… temperamental of the Shas’o,* grumbled one of the soldiers, once he was reasonably sure she wouldn’t overhear. *The Fio’la could have been subdued easily. There aren’t enough of us to summarily execute crew without good reason.* *Perhaps. Sympathizing with the gue’la is a decent enough reason, I think,* grunted the other. *It’s about time these monsters got what was coming to them…* They reached a supply room, and one of them slapped a hand on the access pane. The door slid open with a hiss. *We can put them in here until-what in the black moon happened here?!* The soldiers stopped dead in their tracks. There was already a body in this room. A Fire Warrior, by the looks of things, splayed out over a bench next to an open medikit that had its contents spilled on the floor. The corpse was hideously bloated, its body stretching the undersuit and armor carapace to its limits. Rancid fluid was pooling underneath it, and its head was an almost unrecognizable, swollen mass. *Did they kill someone and stash the body here? Do we have an infiltrator?* *If… If we do… what could even do something like this?* *Ugh… drop the bodies and seal this room. Hopefully we won’t need anything from it before we abandon this vessel.* He dragged the two human corpses inside and shoved them against the wall. His companion hesitated, but eventually pulled in the body of the Earth Caste worker and leaned him up against a bench. *Can’t wait to be rid of this wretched planet. I hope I never find myself in a gue’la ship ever again.* The Fire Warriors exited the supply room, and one stopped to close the door. He slid a finger across the access panel, locking the room behind him. Without another glance, they turned around and left. **** ??? “I miss them already. I feel so lost. So pathetic. So… weak. I let my guard down for a moment, put aside my anger, and then take two plasma slugs for it. Miserable.” Poison Kiss stared up into the darkness as she complained at length, her vision fixed on some random patch of the drab, swirling colors above her. She didn’t know where she was. Her recollection was hazy in general, aside from the last few minutes of her life. “UNGRATEFUL WRETCHES. YOU DIDN’T DESERVE SUCH A CRUEL BETRAYAL, CHILD. I’M SORRY.” Kiss twisted her body – or whatever it was she had right now, exactly – around to face the voice. She was laying in a veritable carpet of filth; a sticky patchwork of vile fluids and rotting flesh stretched out in all directions. Directly behind her was… well, basically a mound of the same filth. As if some quantity of the muck was just pushed together into a big pile and then had some rotted teeth and cataract-ridden eyes jammed into the top. “Why did the Tau do it? They saved them! They could have turned them away! Could have wiped them out! Instead the mules were given a fighting chance, and what did they do with it?!” Kiss complained. The pile of muck tilted slightly to one side. It’s mouth was arced into a sorrowful frown. “TERRIBLE. THEY DIDN’T NEED TO HARM YOU.” “This isn’t about me!” Kiss yelled in anguish. She moved, leaping into the body of the monstrosity. She sank slightly into the slimy, bubbling flesh before curling up on top of it. “I may have let my guard down, but I never trusted them! The humans DID! How many Chaos soldiers have died because of the Tau?! And they opened their fortress to the bloody aliens! Took them in! Gave them homes and jobs! Treated them like friends! Even us ponies weren’t so forgiving!” The daemon laughed ruefully. “THE FATE OF THE HUMAN IS TO DIE, MY CHILD. LONELY, FORGOTTEN, AND CONSUMED BY THEIR OWN PETTY ARROGANCE. IT DOESN’T MATTER.” “It matters to me!” Kiss wailed, her vision blurring. She buried her face in the tumor-ridden folds of flesh and started to cry in earnest. She wasn’t sure how long she sobbed into the cancerous body; the rush of emotions felt much more intense and pure than usual. As if her previous form had been holding her back and keeping her from experiencing true sorrow. The daemon waited for some time, and then reached over with a lumpy, misshapen arm. Jagged claws infested with parasites gently stroked the unicorn, eventually calming her. “YOU CARE ABOUT THE MORTALS A GREAT DEAL, DON’T YOU?” Kiss looked up at the mound of filth. “I do. They were… my allies. My friends. They accepted what I am even while other ponies came to fear us. They helped and protected me and my sisters in the cult. Fought alongside us in defense of our planet and our home. I… I loved them.” Images became a blur in front of her. Names and faces. Tattoos and weapons. Unique augmetics and insane personality quirks. “How many of them are gone now? Dead for having dared to trust the Tau?” The daemon shifted forward, looming over the pony. “A GREAT MANY OF THEM, NO DOUBT. DOZENS. HUNDREDS, BEFORE THE DAY IS DONE. PLUCKED FROM THE GALAXY AND HURLED SCREAMING INTO THE WARP TO FEED MY COUNTLESS CHILDREN.” His face seemed to turn in the middle of his head so that its facial features were almost laying on their side. “HOW DOES THIS MAKE YOU FEEL, MY CHILD?” A pulse of magic came from the unicorn, briefly banishing the local gloom. A hot, destructive shock wave rolled through the floor, breaking apart pools of encrusted effluent and burning away swathes of vile toxins. “I hate the Tau,” Kiss seethed. Her eyes, such as they were, were pools of glowing green. “I hate them! I’ll kill them! ALL OF THEM!!” Her magic started burning the mountain of filth she was resting against, and she began beating her hooves into the scorched flesh in a mindless rage. “Wretched, insolent, alien whelps! I’ll tear them apart! I’ll rend their minds, dismember their bodies, and turn their remains into festering rot piles! RAAAAAAAAAUGH!!!” Poison Kiss released a wordless scream into the air, and another shock wave of magic rolled over her surroundings. The daemon was scorched further, but if he felt anything he didn’t seem to mind, at least. “YESSSS… HATRED IS THE ROTTEN FRUIT OF LOVE. LET YOUR AFFECTIONS TURN TO PAIN, AND THEN UNLEASH THAT PAIN UPON YOUR ENEMIES.” “Let me go back,” Kiss snarled, her head practically swimming in magical power. “Let me go back and destroy them! I’ll wipe them all out!” The daemon laughed while his grimy hand continued to stroke the mare. “VERY WELL, MY CHILD. BUT FOR NOW… SLEEP.” The glow around Poison Kiss began to dim. It wasn’t a conscious effect; she wasn’t letting up with her magic at all. But her senses – already feeling strange since she awoke in this place – began to go numb. Darkness slowly overtook the pony, stealing away the last sense of spatial awareness. Through it all, the guttural chuckling of the daemon reached her ears unimpeded. “MAKE THEM SUFFER, MY DEAR KISS. LET THEM FEEL THE LINGERING AGONY OF MY GIFTS, AND EXPERIENCE THE GOSPEL OF ENTROPY IN THEIR VERY SOULS. MORE LIVES FOR NURGLE…” **** Ferrous Dominus – sector 19 Train station “Kiss! Kiss, no… Please! Please wake up!” When consciousness returned to Poison Kiss, it came like a hammer blow to the gut. She gasped, sucking in air desperately, only to feel her internals quivering in response. An unpleasant sensation, not quite pain but distinctly unpleasant and jarring. And that was aside from the disturbing realization that she probably had a hole in her lungs. “She’s moving! She’s alive! Oh, thank Nurgle!” “Can we get a medicae or something over here?!” “What do you think a medicae is going to do? Half her organs are scorched lumps of carbon.” “So what?! You guys replace organs and limbs all the time!” “Not in the field, we don’t. We can’t really get to… uh… what’s going on, there?” Poison Kiss’s horn started to glow. She couldn’t see properly. Her visor was dark and her vision somewhat blurry. Her armor was inactive, restricting the normal ease of movement it provided her limbs. Nonetheless, she started to writhe and kick her legs, twisting on the ground in a series of awkward spasms. Her body flooded with magic, and she didn’t exactly know why. She wasn’t casting a spell. As the energy rapidly engulfed her, she felt her internals shift and swell. “Kiss? Kiss, what’s happening?!” Breezy Blight and Rot Blossom slowly backed away, watching their squad leader in confusion. The unicorn flailed and squirmed, and the blackened hole in her armor started shaking and bubbling like a stew brought to boil. Charred flesh broke away, and new organs – already swollen with tumors and infections – inflated to fill the space like hideous, multicolored balloons. Small, bony protrusions poked out of the scorched edges of the hole in her power armor, resembling pointed teeth. Then the hole started to flex closed, concealing the wound under a horrific, grimy, grinning mouth. An electric arc whipped around Kiss’s horn, and the armor’s power supply kicked in a second later. The visor flickered on, and Kiss suddenly felt her breath coming much more easily. “Kiss? Kiss, are you… okay?” Blossom asked, rushing up to her friend. Poison Kiss growled, her voice erupting from her vox grille in a burst of static. She lurched upright, her head swinging slightly and her horn still sparking. “Where is my boltgun?” the unicorn hissed. “What? Kiss, we-“ “Boltgun!” Kiss snapped, whirling around on her squad mates. “I’m going to track down that grayskin duff and empty every last magazine into them! We’ll fill the halls of the Temple of Nurgle with their blooming corpses!” She slammed a boot onto the ground, and another mana pulse crackled around her helmet. Her vision was still slightly hazy, so she didn’t get a good look at her surroundings until a few seconds later. She was in the main yard of the train station, right next to the tracks. She was sure she’d been carried here, as the main defensive position had been outside the yard before. The crowd of civilians was gone, presumably having fled out the gate into the badlands. The remaining mercenaries, which barely numbered in the dozens, were set up behind new barricades next to the tracks. The ring of useless servitors and turrets was in worse shape than she remembered, with several of the tread-mounted cyborgs shredded by bullets and a few of the defense pylons ablaze. “Where are they? Did they flee the city? WHERE is my bloody bolter?!” Kiss fumed. “Kiss, please! Calm down!” Breezy shouted. Poison Kiss finally noticed that Breezy Blight had her helmet off. That wouldn’t have been exceptional on its own, but her power armor in general was battered and scraped. Even more dire was the mare’s left wing, which was missing entirely; streaks of dried, filth-encrusted blood ran down one side of her armor. The wound was bad enough to deflate Kiss slightly, and she took a deep, calming breath. “All right. Okay. I’m level. What’s the scheme?” “The Tau locked themselves in the cargo lander back there. It hasn’t taken off though, and we don’t know why. But honestly, that’s like the third most important issue right now,” Breezy said. “Most of the civilians already left. Some are locked down in the buildings nearby and are trying to wait this out.” “Yeah? Okay, so what’re we doing?” Kiss demanded. “Well, uh, we don’t really know,” Blossom admitted weakly, glancing behind her. “Everyone in charge is dead, and our vox is down. Some of the mercenaries ran off already, but we still have a few dozen guys who think reinforcements might be coming. We fell back behind the defense perimeter and fought off a few small attacks mostly from the Orks. The greenskins keep shooting at the turrets and servitors even when they won’t shoot back, so it slows down their advance.” Kiss looked over at the gate, staring at a Kataphron battle servitor. It hung limply over its armored chassis, blood pooling with oil underneath its treads. Its plasma culverin, a massive cannon studded with heat sinks and wrapped in thick flex coiling, sparked and shuddered while hot gases seeped from the weapon’s casing. “A few other ponies are with us too, but they’re trying to get the mercs to flee the base for a frontier town,” Blossom continued. “What? Where?!” Kiss shouted, whirling around again. Blossom recoiled, unnerved by how angry the unicorn was. “I think… they mentioned Fort Hoof? It’s a long walk, but they-“ “Rubbish! We’re not going to leg it! Not against this scum!” Kiss growled, approaching Rot Blossom. “We’re not abandoning Ferrous Dominus! We’re not letting these sodding mules seize the manufactorum while we tuck tail and run just because some birds and woolies found lasguns!” Blossom stumbled backward onto her rear, and Kiss came close enough that their helmet grilles almost touched. “I didn’t drag myself back from the brink of death just to give up, and neither will any of you! You’ll PROTECT this place, or you’ll meet Grandfather before Luna’s moon rises! IS THAT CLEAR, BLOSSOM?” The earth pony nodded her head fearfully. Poison Kiss whirled around, and then spoke loudly enough to be heard by the men crouched behind a defense barricade. “Listen up, lads! It wasn’t that long ago that we stood in the path of some tens of thousands of Orks to protect one lousy pony village! And we gave that horde such a belting that they haven’t been back since!” Her visor flashed, glowing brightly, and her horn pulsed with magical power. “We killed so many of those sorry sods we ripped a hole in reality over their graves! We’re NOT surrendering OUR FORT, OUR CITY, OUR HOME, to a handful of brassed off vagrants! I’m not stepping one hoof beyond that palisade until every Ork, yak, diamond dog, griffon, minotaur, and whatever other vermin are dead or in chains!! Are you with me, brothers and sisters?! Shall we honor the Dark Gods with our courage, and see off these dregs with the strength of our friendship?!” “INCOMING!!” The sound of a battle cannon firing wasn’t quite the encore to her passionate speech Kiss had hoped for. The shell landed off-course, impacting between two combat servitors and blasting a crater into the ferrocrete. The oblivious cyborgs were blown onto their sides from the shock wave, and they began pushing themselves upright with the sort of unhurried calm that could only come from being completely blind to obvious danger. “The hay was that?! Why is a tank firing on us?!” “Look out! Greenskins! Coming from sector 20!” “Did they loot a Russ? Already?! Damned xenos!” The armored vehicle lumbering down the street on creaky, damaged treads had obviously been worked over by Ork Meks, albeit in a hurry. The engine popped and sputtered, spitting bursts of flame from the exhaust pipes. One heavy bolter sponson had been torn off its servo mounting, while the other spewed fire at nearby windows seemingly at random. A half-dozen Orks were riding on the tank, firing their weapons wildly and hooting. Completing the tank’s rapid conversion, a Chaos Star that had formerly decorated the main frontal plate had been painted over with an Ork glyph. “Anti-armor fire! We need a heavy weapon!” shouted a mercenary, firing his lasgun uselessly down the street. “We don’t have one! Not an infantry-portable unit!” shouted back another. “Khorne’s teeth, we’re surrounded by autocannons and plasma culverins and completely helpless!” The battle cannon fired again, and one of the servitors came apart in a burst of fire and gore. The other cyborgs swiftly turned to stare at the tank, confirmed its friendly status, and then went back to ordinary combat readiness. “This is ridiculous! We can’t hold here!” “We have cavalry charging on the left flank! Take them down!” Poison Kiss turned to face the direction of the new assault, zooming her visor scope. Yaks with Ork riders were barreling down the avenue, spearheading a charge by more Orks on foot. Other, less enthusiastic species followed behind the mob; griffons kept watch from above, diamond dogs skulked about the fringes, and minotaur brought up the rear while hefting heavy bolters and chainblades. “Here! Your boltgun!” someone shouted behind her. Kiss turned her head, and she saw her gun skidding across the ferrocrete. It stopped in place with a burst of magic, and then floated up next to her. “All right, girls. Status report?” she demanded, sliding a magazine from the magnetic strip under her stomach plating. “Well, uh… not great,” Breezy Blight admitted. “I have ammo, but I’m a little light-headed. Also, I’m not flying anywhere, obviously.” “I’m okay, but I’m running low on bugs,” Rot Blossom explained. “I was going to infest a few corpses, but kind of got caught up trying to revive you.” “WAAAAAAAGH!!” The classic war cry of the Orks mixed with the sound of pounding hooves, and lasers started flashing by the cultist ponies. Kiss slid her boltgun magazine into place and pulled back the slide. “All right, here’s the skinny! We need to close on that tank!” “The tank? But our bolters-“ “Keep your fire on soft targets, but we need to get closer! That hull is covered in structural breaches! Breezy, you have to get close enough to blow some poison into the crew compartment, savvy?” A battle cannon shell struck a fence pylon, demolishing it and sending shards of ferrocrete and duralloy rebar raining down on the defending troops. Breezy Blight flinched away, and then steeled herself. “All right, Kiss. You clear the way, and I’ll choke those monsters,” the pegasus said, her voice shaking only slightly. “Nurgle watch over us!” Kiss shouted, whirling around toward the tank. “Take her down, girls!” By the time the mares began galloping toward the gate, the firefight had heated up substantially. The lasfire was mostly aimed at the foot soldiers and cavalry racing toward the defender’s flanks. The return fire, in turn, battered the remaining turrets and stubbornly unresponsive servitors. The captured Russ lumbered forward obliviously, and the Orks riding on top hooted and fired their guns into the air. A string of bullets sawed across the ground in front of Kiss, and she glanced over to her side. A pair of Nobs riding yaks were charging past the gate and positioning to plow right into Phage Squadron. Perhaps they reasoned that the ponies must be a threat to the tank they were charging, but more likely the yak – primarily in charge of navigation – homed in on them as the closest moving target. “Waah ha ha!” The Ork rider laughed while he sprayed automatic fire over the mares, his arms quaking from the recoil. The Ork behind him fired with only slightly more discretion, slapping the rear of his mount with his axe. Breezy and Blossom’s boltguns were mounted on their greaves, so they couldn’t return fire while running. Poison Kiss could, but the unicorn was hardly a marksman even when she wasn’t sprinting across a battlefield. Her bolter fired at the rapidly approaching Ork, shaking wildly in the air. The burst mostly went wide, with only one shot cracking uselessly against the shabby plate armor on the yak’s side. “Haw haw! Lookit ‘em run! C’mere, hossy!” the Ork laughed, spurring the yak forward with a kick. “Git da little fuzz-“ Lasers and autogun fire suddenly raked the Nob, originating from the barricade. He roared in anger while a half-dozen lasblasts punched into his chest, and then gurgled pitifully when a solid slug round smacked into his head, knocking him off his mount. The yak started to turn with the shift in weight, confused, and then staggered when a burst of lasers stabbed into its side. The second rider charged ahead, his slugga bucking wildly in his hand. “Keep going!” Rot Blossom shouted, turning to head off the approaching yak. “I’ve got this!” Blossom crossed in front of the charging bovine and then stopped suddenly, kicking backward. A power-armored buck crashed into the yak’s head, and the beast immediately tripped while its vision exploded into stars. It fell onto its side and skidded across the ground, while the Nob on top spilled off and rolled. Blossom spun and fired a burst into the struggling Ork, and the alien’s left arm was torn apart by mass-reactive shells. The Nob flinched, and then responded with an angry lunge with his choppa. The battered axe nearly took Blossom’s head off, striking the plating against her cheek with sufficient force to knock her off her hooves. She hit the ground on her side, scraping the ferrocrete below. She scrambled upright as soon as she got her footing again, and the jaw segment of her helmet snapped open. A centipede emerged from her mouth, dripping with mucus and wiggling venomous fangs. As the Ork bellowed and charged, the centipede snaked forward, stretching for the alien’s throat. Blossom didn’t notice the yak turning on her until it was too late; she hadn’t expected the beast to recover at all, in fact. But yak skulls were impressively thick, and she experienced that density directly when it rammed into her and threw her into the air. The Nurgle mare yelped and flailed her legs helplessly, her vision spinning along with her body. Then she slammed into a refueling tower, striking the outer casing hard enough to crack her visor. She tumbled down, slamming into several protrusions and tangling her leg in some hosing before striking the ground in a stunned heaped. The giant centipede fell on top of her a moment later, similarly disoriented. Then it scuttled down and crawled back into the pony’s slack-jawed mouth. “Take the other side! I’ll try to divert the weapons!” screamed Poison Kiss while she and Breezy Blight pounded across the ferrocrete. Bullets whipped by and sawed across the ground around them, occasionally cracking against their ceramite shells. The looted battle tank churned forward obliviously, its turret rocking back to fire its main gun at the inert defenses. The Orks atop the vehicle laughed and fired at the ponies, delighting in having small, fast targets to attack. Kiss slowed enough to aim her boltgun, and then fired a spread into the cluster of greenskins clinging to the hull. One fell off from a wound on his leg, slamming into the tread and then bouncing off onto the ground in front of it. The looted Leman Russ rolled over him without hesitation seconds later. The Russ’s lascannon fired, and Kiss’s heart jumped into her throat after a spear of blazing red light pulsed between her and Breezy. The laser uselessly struck the side of building the in the rail yard, but Breezy, with her helmet off, felt a warm tingle over her face from the heated air. “Rot and die, greenskin scum!” Poison Kiss snarled, running around the side of the tank. Her bolter shook and her helmet opened, spitting a stitch of bolter shells and infected spines across the top of the tank. Three more Orks fell from their perch atop the battle tank, either clutching brackish needles or bloody bolt wounds. Only one greenskin remained, hanging onto the rear of the turret. Breezy bolted past Kiss, and then that remaining Ork jumped into action, leaping off to intercept the mare. He landed directly in her path and started firing his slugga, missing by several feet while he charged. Regardless of his accuracy, Breezy stumbled to a halt, hesitating at a crucial moment; normally she would simply fly over an obstacle in her path, but with one wing missing she wasn’t able to avoid the alien. He reared back his choppa, and she blasted her well-prepared jet of toxic fog into his face. The Ork staggered mid-swing, and his blade mercifully passed just centimeters from Breezy’s nose. He started coughing and pushing forward anyway, and the pegasus found herself without any way to evade. An iron-shod boot slammed into her leg, knocking her onto her side. Her head struck the ground, and for a few seconds everything went hazy. The Ork, still coughing badly, pinned Breezy down with one boot before the pony could stand up. A searing lance of red light flashed by him, followed by the hiss of rapidly dissolving metal. Kiss, who was just turning her aim onto the greenskin, decided to duck and cover instead. The Leman Russ exploded, and the Slugga Boy was thrown off of Breezy Blight when several chunks of armor sliced into his back. She flinched away from the detonation, and then craned her head while the noise still echoed in her ears. “What was that? Did the boys find a lascannon?” the pegasus mumbled. “I think… no! Look!” Kiss jumped up, slinging her boltgun onto her back. “Sentinels! Coming from across the lots! And Chimeras! Blow me down, we have reinforcements!” From behind the lander – still grounded, curiously enough – they came. A half-dozen Sentinel walkers strode at the front, picking their targets with the careful discretion and timing of a warrior who had achieved a perfect flanking position. Lascannons and autocannons bracketed the Nob cavalry, knocking the riders off their yak mounts or carving ashen tunnels through both in an instant. Behind the walkers rolled troop transports. Gleaming Chimera APCs stormed across the lot in front of the lander, racing toward the barricades. Laser fire sprayed from the turrets, spreading wide fans of crimson bolts across the marching infantry. The advance immediately slowed while the less warlike races sought cover, and even the Orks became less enthusiastic about their chances with the arrival of armored resistance. “Who the blazes is that? Did a quadrant’s defense forces regroup?” “Those aren’t from the assault force! Those Chimeras look forge-fresh!” The first of the transports shuddered to a stop in front of the barricades, and immediately the Sentinels moved to a defensive position around the vehicle. It wheeled around immediately, swinging its rear ramp toward the weary defenders. The mag-locks snapped up, and the ramp creaked open. “Good day, gentlemen,” greeted Norris Delgan, walking down the ramp with his arms clasped behind his back. “I heard there was an evacuation and regrouping in this sector. Evidently, so did the enemy.” Six more APCs rolled into place next to the command vehicle, slowing to a stop and turning to face oncoming fire. “Trademaster? Then… these are Merchant Corp vehicles?” asked one of the mercenaries, nearly slack-jawed. “Even the Sentinels?” “As of today, yes. They are. The Mechanicus would have just let them sit in the manufactorum for want of ‘authorized pilots,’ but promises and investments have a way of circumventing such tiresome rules.” Men wearing blue and black combat armor and holding pulse rifles started rushing past Delgan, taking position around the Chimera. Then the man frowned, his mustache dipping disapprovingly. “Where are your commanders? I see no rank tags higher than Sergeant.” “Dead, Trademaster,” replied one such Sergeant. “Ugh. Embarrassing.” He snapped his fingers in the air while the other transports opened. “Men, it seems the scenario is even more dire than I had anticipated! I will determine a plan of action posthaste, but for now I require my assets defended!” Delgan drew one sword, pointing it in the direction of the approaching mobs of Orks and rebels. “There lay the enemy. Slaughter them all.” More soldiers started spilling out of the transports. All of them carried visibly superior wargear to the weary soldiers already defending the sector; sophisticated optics visors, full-body combat armor, fully-equipped grenade belts, and Tau pulse weaponry made each of them thrice the combat threat compared to the mercenaries boasting old autoguns and lasrifles. They crouched beside the APCs and began to return fire, adding lethally accurate pulse volleys to the wide spread of the Chimeras’ multilasers. Behind them came Fire Warriors. The mercenaries flinched back at the sight of the aliens rushing to back up Delgan’s human soldiers, taking up points on the firing line along with the others. Some promptly aimed their weapons at the Tau’s backs, but they hesitated to fire. The Fire Warriors didn’t notice, concentrating entirely on the enemy at range. Norris Delgan did. “What are you doing? I intended to give you lot a break,” the Trademaster sneered, looking down on one of the soldiers disapprovingly. “If you’re that eager for targets, step up and kill some greenskins.” The men quickly put up their weapons. None said a word, having no idea in the first place why the other Tau had attacked. As long as these ones stood between them and enemy bullets, the mercenaries were willing to bide their time until they weren’t actively under assault before bringing up the topic. Not everyone was so patient, however. “What are the blooming Tau doing here?! Bucking traitors!!” Delgan swiftly turned to the side, toward the ravaged gate that led into the station. An armored unicorn was standing between the defense pylons in shock, a boltgun hovering over head. A pegasus – tragically missing a wing, it seemed – stood behind her. The lack of a helmet on the second mare revealed an expression of shock and quickly rising anger. Delgan wasn’t completely surprised when the levitating boltgun lowered itself into a firing angle, presumably aimed at the backs of the Fire Warriors. He still didn’t know exactly why, however, and this had the scent of a tragic misunderstanding. Delgan’s body moved in a blur, crossing the meters between him and the ponies so quickly that they flinched back in surprise. That brief moment of hesitation may have saved lives, and Delgan smacked the flat of his power sword against the barrel of the boltgun to tilt it upward. “Would you like to explain why you’re about to summarily execute those soldiers, Miss…” “Kiss! My name is Kiss!” Poison Kiss snapped, pulling her boltgun away from the man’s sword. “And those Tau are traitors!” Delgan raised an eyebrow. Breezy Blight hurried to explain. “A grayskin combat group marched in earlier! They turned on us in an instant; took us completely by surprise! Wiped out our command, our armored support, and then captured the lander over there!” She pointed to the massive transport vessel still parked in the vast ferrocrete lots. “Hmm. Curious,” Delgan mumbled, drawing a finger over the metal implant along his jaw. “It seems our little vassals are making a break for it. I wouldn’t have thought they’d have the gall.” “Well, they did, and thanks to them this has all gone pear-shaped. We need to get rid of those other sods, before they turn on us too!” Kiss growled, trying to aim her bolter again. Again, Delgan calmly pushed the weapon away with his sword. “Let’s not. These Tau have had their communication systems replaced with our vox networks so they can’t speak to each other without us hearing. They were also vital to helping put down several of those canines who were trying to break into a weapons cache, and right now they’re standing between my last escape route and an Ork horde. I think questioning their loyalties can wait.” A third pony staggered up to the Trademaster, walking with a slight limp. It wasn’t obvious, at a glance, whether her gait was due to armor damage or an injury that her power armor couldn’t correct for. “What about the grayskins in the lander?! If you have something that can cut open the landing bay, we can stop them!” Blossom pleaded. Delgan frowned. “… You said it was a combat group? Not just a single squad?” “No. Dozens of Fire Warriors, along with heavy battlesuit support!” Breezy explained. “If you have some detcharges, we can probably take them by surprise!” “Pass,” Delgan said blithely. “It’s not my lander. They can have it.” “Trademaster!” Kiss scolded. “I have limited resources, no current orders, and civilian personnel following the armor for evacuation,” Delgan sniffed. “I will not overextend myself so easily.” An explosion came from the battle line, and Delgan whirled around. One of the Chimeras had been torn open, and a large puff of dark smoke was rising into the dirty gray clouds above. Across the lots, where the enemy was taking cover, Delgan spotted a minotaur puzzling over how to reload a missile launcher. “Someone put down those heavy weapons!” the Trademaster barked. “We don’t have the armor to spare right now! It’s a damned long walk to the nearest village!” He snorted, then eyed the mares next to him. “Miss Kiss, I encourage you to keep careful watch on our auxiliaries for any signs of treachery. But for now, we have other aliens that require your ordnance. Pick a hostile target and open fire at once.” Poison Kiss hissed through clenched teeth, but after a few seconds she swiveled toward the Orks and floated her boltgun into place. “After this is over, I expect to get this Tau business sorted, Trademaster.” “I will see to it, Miss Kiss,” Delgan assured her, drawing his other power sword. “For now, let’s excise this filth from our city.” **** Primary changeling hive cluster Assault line Delta “Unbelievable! Are the Techpriests from the main cluster still not back?! Our home fortress is under attack and they’re still meandering around the frakking caves! Get your men BACK here, or I’ll leave them in the dust! It took long enough to extract the Astartes from the lower caverns when they wanted to complete the demolition of the hive!” General Harlin seethed loudly while he paced back and forth in front of his command vehicle. Several armed men and Dark Techpriests watched him pace, their moods ranging from bemused to exasperated. “General Harlin, all strategis estimates suggest that further delays will generate negligible difference in tactical outcome,” one cloaked figure droned. “The Techpriests will need to be inspected and cleared to check for infiltrators, and we-“ “Damn your estimates and delays!” Harlin snarled. “No ‘strategis estimates’ accounted for a native insurgency penetrating our fortress defenses and shutting down our autoturret manifold! Every second you waste means lives and material lost! Check their internal IFF signums when they get back, and then prepare for immediate departure! Conduct further security checks later!” Behind the General, a pink Dreadnought was leaning on a Rhino and tapping a giant metal finger against the top impatiently. “So… should the rest of us just go on ahead? Dash and Tellis already left!” Pinkie noted. “No. Nobody else is going ahead,” Harlin said decisively. “I have practically no intel on what’s happening or how. This could be an elaborate feint, or the insurgents may have already been disposed of. I’ll not have units ranging ahead to stumble into danger, or units lagging behind to be ambushed the moment my attention is elsewhere.” “It’s a long trip back to Ferrous Dominus,” growled Dest, who stood next the APC Pinkie was leaning on. “Much longer if we must be on guard for ambushes. If the enemy really has taken the command center already, we can expect the battle to be over by the time we get back, and hostiles manning our defenses.” “We have sufficient forces to penetrate the front gates and launch an assault if Ferrous Dominus is no longer ours,” Harlin said grimly. “The xenos will be unable to turn our autoturrets and other active defenses against us.” “So you hope,” Dest rumbled, “if the enemy somehow disabled them, it is hardly impossible.” “General! General Harlin!” shouted an APC gunner. “Skyborne contacts at five o’clock!” Harlin whirled around, searching the air while he fumbled for his monocular. Two Hydra anti-air tanks swiveled their turrets around, bracketing the approach of several dark specks in the distance. “Permission to open fire?” barked a voice from the vox. Harlin pressed his monocular over his eyes, and then swiftly zoomed in on the approaching bodies. “… Negative. Hold fire. It’s just some pegasi.” He paused. “And… Princess Celestia. Approaching on an intercept course.” The General frowned, and then turned to look at Dest. The driver nodded and pulled his boltgun from his hip. “All units, prepare for immediate assault,” Dest growled into his vox. “We may be seeing our ambush already.” “Wait, what? What are we doing?” Pinkie’s Dreadnought straightened in alarm. All around her, soldiers were taking cover or forming up firing lines with their weapons at the ready. “What was that about an ambush? Why would Princess Celestia ambush us?” “We’re assaulting a nest of shapeshifters, have just received unlikely news that happens to demand we depart immediately with all haste, and are preparing to receive an unexpected visit by an unlikely ally who possesses no validated ident-codes at this critical time,” Harlin pointed out, letting his hand rest on the grip of his bolt pistol. “These circumstances are… inauspicious. I dislike being tugged this way and that at the whim of cowardly xenos.” “Tacticae analysis: Targets are in small arms range, General. Most are armed with standard-pattern lasguns and approaching at combat speed,” noted a Dark Techpriest. “If you see so much as a single lasblast from that squadron, tear them from the skies,” Harlin sniffed. “But until then… be ready.” Then he turned toward the pink Contemptor. “That goes for you, too, Equinought.” “Right! Yes!” Pinkie Pie quickly swiveled around and brought her butcher cannon to bear. “Ready to blast them to itty-bitty pieces, General! But hoping not to! Because I’m pretty sure those are our friends and loved ones!” “YOUR friends and loved ones. Just have your weapons primed and aimed.” Harlin grumbled. Then he suddenly kicked a foot to the side, banging it against an invisible shell of metal. Fluttershy yelped in fear as her cloaking field collapsed, briefly rendering her visible to everyone else in the convoy. “That goes for you too, medicae. A stun grenade in the middle of the formation may be critical to averting a first strike.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “In fact, I may have you do that regardless. It’s not as if your weapons are lethal.” “Oh, uhm, I uh, I don’t feel totally comfortable with, er, shooting grenades at Princess Celestia at all,” Fluttershy stuttered. “Hush,” Harlin replied. “They’re here.” Princess Celestia flapped her wings steadily while her altitude dropped, slowing the spearhead for a landing. Two dozen pegasi flew with her, all of them wearing flak armor, ballistic harnesses, and attached lasguns. The wargear had been modified significantly since it had first been issued, however; the flak plating was painted over in golden yellow, and bright crimson crests had been attached to helmets. Some of the ponies had gone further, decorating the drab, industrial equipment with rank markings and painting on their cutie marks, while others carried more elaborate blades than the simple adamantium-core combat knives that had been issued to the Equestrians months ago. Celestia herself wore a golden peytral with a set of banded golden greaves. A silken shroud wafted around her body, seeming to refract the light and generate strange splashes of color over its surface. The barding was less extensive and effective than the suit she had worn during the battle at Ponyville, but that armor hadn’t survived the event so she’d had to settle for something more formal and ornamental. Its magical protection was minor; it wouldn’t protect her from anything stronger than a lasblast at best. She felt it displayed an image of graceful royal dignity, however. So it was all the more galling that when she landed in front of the assault convoy, Princess Celestia found herself staring at dozens of weapons pointed at her. “What is the meaning of this?!” Celestia asked, her eyes widening. The lasguns were bad enough, but she could see that the tanks and heavy weapons troops were also swiveling their guns to bear on her. “I am Princess Celestia! Please, stand down! I’m your ally!” “That remains to be seen,” Harlin said sharply. Celestia blinked. “You’re not sure if I’m your ally?” As much as she’d protested against the idea in the past, it was unusual to hear the sentiment from a human. “I’m not sure you’re Princess Celestia,” the General clarified. “I expect some sort of verification, Princess. Then we can discuss what you’re doing here. And make it quick, please; I’m very short on time.” Celestia gaped for a few seconds, and then deflated with a sigh. “You think we’re changelings? Of course not!” “This is an insult!” barked a pegasus Sergeant, bristling. “Princess Celestia led us here to save you!” General Harlin quirked an eyebrow. “Really. To save us.” “That is, incidentally, what one would expect a changeling minion to say,” Dest noted. He calmly brought his boltgun into firing position. Near the back of the gun line, Daniels watched the confrontation silently, keeping his weapon up and aimed at Celestia. Then he suddenly dropped his aim, secured his rail rifle, and started walking toward the nearest Dark Techpriest. “Okay, wait! I’ve got it!” Pinkie Pie chimed in, suddenly taking a heavy step forward. “Princess! Tell us something only Princess Celestia would know!” Celestia recoiled slightly, but then pursed her lips. While she was upset at this reception, she could hardly blame the General for his caution; really, she was quietly impressed he had predicted such an underhanded strategy when it hadn’t even occurred to her. “Very well. This is embarrassing, but lives hang in the balance,” Celestia admitted. “Primarily yours,” Dest pointed out. “Quite. So.” The white alicorn cleared her throat. “I don’t like to admit this, but… I have quite an obsession with cake.” Silence met her admission, and several of the pony soldiers gave the Princess incredulous looks. “Really, it’s like an addiction!” Celestia said, her cheeks flushing. “I have to give my assistants special authority to override my orders to the kitchen to keep me from eating too much! Thrice a week is all I’m allowed!” “Can you come up with something a little more secret than that?” Pinkie Pie asked. “I mean, I guess the humans didn’t know, but…” “I knew that, actually,” Dest interjected again. “The Cakes are terrible gossips.” Daniels leaned over toward the Dark Techpriest and whispered something. The cyborg listened quietly, and then nodded. A mechatendril reached down and wriggled through his robes for a moment, and then pulled out a taser goad. Daniels took the goad, and then started walking over to the Royal Guard. “Why exactly are you even here?” General Harlin interrupted, drumming his fingers against his sword hilt. “You think to save us? How? A handful of equines are hardly a substantial addition to my forces, and it’s not the enemy’s military strength that’s the problem.” “Yes, I know!” Celestia agreed, eagerly seizing on the new topic. “I got news of the attack on Ferrous Dominus in Canterlot and knew that most of your power was diverted elsewhere! I can help you return to your city immediately!” This got the humans’ attention, and several of them lowered their weapons. “Oh? All of us? Including our armored support? How?” demanded the General. “I can link a magic gateway to my sister! Luna is still in your fortress, correct? All you need to do is step into the portal and you will emerge in Ferrous Dominus!” Celestia explained, her horn flickering. Several guns promptly went up again, and the alicorn’s muzzle scrunched up. She killed her magic output immediately, and her horn stopped glowing. “… So your plan is to create a… psychic gateway, so you say… and my force is to walk into it?” Harlin asked, his brow furrowing. Celestia suppressed a groan. “General, please, I realize you have good reason to be cautious, but so much is at stake!” “I really feel like we could go back to my idea,” Pinkie Pie volunteered, raising the arm of her Dreadnought into the air. “Remember that? The ‘thing that only Celestia would know’ plan? We can try again!” “How would that help? I can’t verify any such information!” Harlin pointed out. “But I can! Probably!” “You’re hardly an objective source. Why should I believe that you know more about the Princess than a skilled infiltrator would?” “Silly! I’m an Element of Harmony!” “… And that means… what?” Daniels walked past the General while he argued, holding up the fork-tipped taser goad and twisting a dial on the handle. The Royal Guard seemed to dismiss him while he approached, more concerned, understandably, with the various cannons and rifles aimed at them. Still, the mercenary got a few odd glances when he stopped next to the nearest guard, which turned to alarmed gasps when he touched the goad’s fork against a pony’s wing. “GYAAA-AH-AH-AH-AH-AH!!” screamed the guard, flailing violently from the electric discharge. Loose feathers and smoke that smelled like cooking meat curled into the air as he staggered, and then the stallion collapsed into a twitching heap. “… Nope. Not a changeling,” Daniels announced, tapping the goad against the ground. “Sorry about that mate. Had to make sure.” The guard groaned. Celestia stared hard at General Harlin, who pursed his lips. “That proves THAT guard was not a changeling. It hardly seems beyond their abilities to trick a contingent of equine soldiers to defend them by imitating their sovereign,” Harlin pointed out. “General, please!” Celestia shouted in exasperation. “I suppose I could try zapping the Princess, but if I hurt her that might prevent her from doing the gateway thing, for all I know,” Daniels pointed out. A Royal Guard jumped up immediately, hovering in front of the mercenary and drawing his sword from its sheathe. “You dare to threaten Princess Celestia, scoundrel?! She raced here to help you ungrateful apes, and you jus-“ The other ponies flinched away and pinned their ears down as Daniels tapped the taser goad against the guard’s leg. Several seconds and much screaming later, a second pegasus fell to the ground in a quivering heap. “So neither of these are changelings, then. I think this squad is legit at least, General,” Daniels said, turning around and heading back to the Dark Techpriest. General Harlin’s expression betrayed nothing while he stared at Celestia. The white Princess stared back, her gaze firm but silently pleading. “Make a decision, General,” Dest growled, flexing the claws of his gauntlet. “The last of the Techpriests are being cleared now. We depart on foot, or we step through the portal.” “… Very well. We will accept your assistance, Princess,” Harlin said finally. “Establish the gateway.” “Good. And YOU’RE WELCOME,” Celestia said irritably before her horn began to glow. “You’ll have my thanks when and if something good comes of this,” Harlin said curtly, turning toward his command vehicle. “I must relay new orders to the convoy. It seems we’ll be fighting a defensive today.” “Hooray, kind of!” Pinkie cheered. **** Ferrous Dominus – sector 15 Armor lots “THOU! SHALT! FALTER! BEFORE! US! ALIEN!” Luna’s voice boomed across the sector while the Iron Gage hammered a heavily armored Mek into the ground, punctuating every word with an earthshaking punch. Bullets whipped by her in every direction, occasionally bouncing off her plating in small bursts of sparks. Ork corpses littered the ground in various states of immolation and dismemberment. Several vehicles burned or lay in pieces, having been blasted apart or in the process of being looted by the greenskins. Luna slapped the flatted Mek away, and then flinched away from a spray of lasblasts across her side. A squad of griffons were hovering overhead, bombarding her from what they hoped was outside the range of retaliation. Luna craned her head up toward the fliers, and an arc of bright blue power lashed across her horn. The griffons scattered immediately in terror. The Orks, however, saw the brief pause in the big, armored horse smashing them, and decided this must have meant they had the upper hand. “WAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!” Slugga Boys flooded around and over the various parked vehicles, making a mad sprint toward Luna’s back while their airborne allies darted to safety. The Princess of the Night turned to face them, and black lightning flashed between her horn and the Iron Gage. Then it crashed into the oncoming horde in a chain of rapid bolts, slaying the front line in a matter of seconds. “Although We admire the Orks’ tenacity to some grudging extent, thy kind’s haste to leap to thy doom hath grown tiresome,” Luna mused aloud. One gauntlet rocketed forward, punching into the unit’s Nob and crushing him against the side of a Hellhound flame tank. “To think that even now, thy ilk wouldst-“ “LUNA! Luna, are you there?!” Luna recoiled in surprise, whinnying slightly. “Who speaks?! Reveal yourself!” Luna shouted. Her Iron Gage kept pounding at the Orks, smashing boyz apart with long swings and pulverizing impacts. “Luna, it’s Celestia! Thank goodness this spell worked! It’s been ages since I’d attempted this connection.” “Sister? ‘Tis truly thee? Salutations!” Luna shouted. Then she fired a lance of darkness forward, skewering another pair of greenskins. “We art quite occupied at this juncture, however. Might thee call us back at a more convenient time?” “I can only imagine, Luna. But this can’t wait. I know that Ferrous Dominus is being invaded. I can help!” “Thou… can?” Luna mumbled, hesitating. Then a heavy bolter round slammed into her flank, almost knocking her over. “Yes! Listen, do you remember that spell we used during the Equineox? To surprise that Duke by bringing his family home some… oh, what was it… 1300 years ago? Does that sound right?” Luna summoned a barrier briefly, and then checked for the gunner. A minotaur with a heavy bolter was standing on top of a parked Leman Russ for a better firing angle. “Anyway! I’ve found my way to the assault convoy that the Company sent to attack the changeling hive! If we open a linked gateway, then we can send the convoy back to the city immediately, and they can help you fight!” “Splendid idea!” Luna shouted, watching the minotaur. “We shalt extricate ourselves from battle in but a moment!” Another Slugga Boy charging at her was seized by the Iron Gage, and the gauntlet lifted the alien into the air before slamming it back down against the ferrocrete. A few seconds later the heavy bolter fell quiet, having sucked up the last of the munitions from its ammo belt. The minotaur squeezed the trigger handle a few more times, snorting irritably at the futile clicking coming from his weapon. Before he could start reloading, Luna’s horn flashed, swapping her barrier for a different enchantment. A spiral of magic runes appeared in front of the tank, etched into the ferrocrete surface in gloomy blue flame and swelling to form some indecipherable pattern. The bovine warrior hesitated for barely a second when he spotted the magical light, and then turned to jump away. Tendrils of black shot from the ground and lashed around the minotaur, seizing his legs and holding tight. The massive biped grunted and dropped the heavy bolter, and then he gripped the Russ’s turret to try to pull himself free by force. Before he could, two thestrals burst out from under the tank, taking to the air and then diving at the minotaur. Blades punched into his back and legs, and the warrior’s howls of rage were soon drowned out by the amplified screeching of his assailants. “We believe We hast dispatched the last of the foes in the vicinity,” Luna announced while the Iron Gage electrocuted another Ork. “Be warned! The greenskins art everywhere, and aided by numerous warriors hailing from our treacherous neighbors! We must take to battle at once when reinforcements arrive!” “Of course. I’m already beginning the spell on my end. Seek out my magic thread and begin opening a gateway.” Luna took a deep breath, and the Iron Gage slowly lowered itself onto the ground, lying flat while she closed her eyes. Her horn pulsed. Glowing motes of light gathered around her armor. The eyes of the Iron Skull over her breast dimmed. Her own eyes flashed with eldritch light. The Chimera behind her exploded. That last part wasn’t part of the casting, and Luna was bowled over painfully when a chunk of burning armor plate slammed into her rear. A fireball bloomed over the devastated vehicle, and the guttural laughter of happy Orks came from behind the smoke. “… Luna? Hello? Did you just scream? What’s wrong?” “Rrrrrrgh!” Luna lurched upright and sent a burst of fireballs arcing through the column of smoke, exploding out of sight. A rokkit flew back toward her, spiraling wildly and zooming over her head. “The field hast not yet been cleared!” Luna growled. “Hold whilst We dispatch these new foes!” “Can you flee to a safer place? This spell isn’t easy, and it will be much easier to fight the enemies later with all the troops we have waiting here.” “… Nay.” The relief of the Iron Skull on her chest glowed, and Luna’s eyes narrowed. “We hast identified another means. We will be but a moment, Sister.” “Okay, but please, be careful! Do hurry, though. General Harlin is quite impatient and most of the tanks are still aiming at me.” Luna leapt high into the air, spreading her armored wings and the glimmering crystals floating at their edges. The Iron Gage orbited around her, thrumming with magic. She flew into the smoke, and then emerged beyond it. A half-dozen Tankbustas were scattered about a line of battle tanks, clambering over them and scavenging ordnance. A pair of Meks worked on one such tank, cutting the entry hatch open with a torch so that they could abscond with the vehicle. “We request several volunteers to perish in a most unpleasant manner!” Luna shouted, glaring down at the aliens below. “Whom shalt serve to fuel our fell magicks?” It wasn’t clear whether the Orks understood her, but it didn’t really matter. Most of the Tankbustas looked up and took aim with their rokkit launchas, sending a volley of heavy explosives up at the armored pony. “Thy cooperation ‘tis most appreciated!” Luna snarled, her eyes flashing and her horn pulsing. An aura of dark magic exploded around her, spreading quickly over the twisting rokkits. Every projectile froze in the air, its engine sputtering out instantly and impossibly. The magic pulse passed, and the warheads promptly fell, dropping to the ground. Naturally, every rokkit exploded on contact with the ferrocrete, and a rolling chain of explosions ripped through the lot in front of the Tankbustas. Half the boyz perished, pulverized by their own munitions, and even the survivors were knocked off their feet from the force. Luna landed heavily, and her gaze turned toward the Meks. The Iron Gage floated after her, and one gauntlet formed a fist and slammed into the palm of the other. Both Meks drew their sluggas and started shooting, but their efforts were useless. A shadowy lance of energy sliced off the pistol arm of one Ork, while the Iron Gage snatched up the other and threw him onto the ground at Luna’s hooves. “Thy kind once fueled the salvation of this world with thy wretched souls,” Luna spat. Her horn’s magic flickered, it’s color shifting from blue to bright crimson. “Mayhaps again, thy death can be of use to us.” The eyes of the Iron Skull on her chest glimmered. The Iron Gage poked a single finger into the Ork’s chest, and a flash of red lit the tip of the digit. The Ork snarled as seams of crimson started spreading over his skin from the contact, branching out like the roots of a tree. He started beating at the gauntlet with his wrench and slugga, trying to knock the Gage away. “Oi! Git da hoss!” growled the other Mek, leaping at Luna and swinging his wrench with his remaining arm. Luna bucked at him, and the massive wrench met adamantium horseshoes with a noisy crash. The Ork recoiled, managing to keep his grip, but he was still off-balance when the free hand of the Iron Gage seized his shoulder and flung him on top of the other Ork. A Tankbusta rushed at her, only to get blasted by a ray of crimson magic. He collapsed onto the ground in a twitching heap, his rokkit launcha tumbling from his fingers. A moment later he was seized by the Iron Gage, and then dragged on top of the two other Orks. The black gauntlets sought out the remaining survivors, tossing them onto the pile of injured greenskins. Below the struggling aliens, seams of crimson light had spread from the first Ork into the ground, slowly spreading outward over the ferrocrete. The magic seemed to send the aliens into a senseless stupor, and they thrashed blindly within the ritual circle without making any actual effort to stand up and flee. The Iron Gage backhanded a Tankbusta into the side of an APC, and then dragged him toward the pile. Luna’s levitation reached out to a different greenskin, tilting his rokkit launcha up into the air just before he fired. The rokkit blasted upward, darting into the soot clouds above with no ill effect. Luna’s magic wrenched the launcha from the Ork’s hands, and then clubbed him with his own weapon. The warrior, already badly injured, still took three blows to the head before he staggered, and then the Iron Gage plucked him from the ground. “Sister! We shalt open the gateway posthaste!” Luna announced. She could already hear more Orks nearby, running alongside the rows of armored vehicles and hooting in-between bursts of gunfire. “Beware of thy footing! The portal grounds may be somewhat cluttered.” “I’m ready, Luna. Open it quickly, and we’ll be able to help!” An Ork had his arm crushed by the Iron Gage, and another was blasted by a tendril of darkness that wrapped around his face and legs and immobilized him. The gauntlets pulled both warriors off their feet and threw them into the pile behind Luna. She paused to stare at the collection of writhing aliens, and then nodded sharply. Bullets still whipped by her head and plinked off of her armor, but Luna shut her mind to the combatants that were outside of her immediate reach. Her horn began to glow again, and the seams of red beneath the Orks flashed brightly. “We realize that such sentiment ‘tis worthless to thy kind,” Luna quipped while one gauntlet floated over the pile, “but in this manner thy deaths may aid a useful cause rather than some forlorn hope of conquest. We thank thee for thy assistance, unwilling as it is. Now… let thy torments rend space and time, and speed our allies to our side!” The ground cracked sharply under the Orks, and the slowly expanding runes doubled in size in an instant. Intertwining loops and strangely geometric spirals overlapped each other, and the outermost threads of seething red stuck out from the center in eight directions. The Orks continued to writhe, but now their bodies started to wither and deflate, and a pale, luminescent mist poured from their mouths and eyes. Luna could swear she heard laughter somewhere in the background while she turned away from the ritual. She didn’t bother to think on it; there were more Orks strafing her and a pair of Stormboyz descending with sluggas bucking wildly in their hands. In the short time her attention had been diverted, many more enemies had arrived. The Iron Gage caught one Stormboy with a haymaker, slamming its knuckles into the greenskin with explosive force. The other gauntlet stopped a second jump trooper from carving into Luna’s face as he landed, blocking the attack with a noisy crash of metal. Luna reared up and blasted the Stormboy with a magic beam, but by the time the alien’s corpse hit the ground there were more Stormboyz landing around her. “Begone, knaves!” Luna howled. Legs bucked and metal clashed against metal. Magic thrummed all around the alicorn, piercing and burning her enemies with brief pulses of thought. One after another the Orks were pulverized, littering the ground around her hooves with their bloodied remains. Soon only the Nob remained, and that Ork was seized around the neck and shoulder by a gauntlet before being slammed against the side of an APC. “Where art they leaders, mongrel? Which Warboss is responsible for this travesty?!” Luna loomed over the warrior menacingly, and the Iron Gage squeezed. The metal collar of the Nob’s shabby armor crumpled and bones started to crack, but the Ork merely snarled and clawed at the fingers around him. Luna, already quite tired and irritated, resisted the urge to simply squash the alien. Her eyes flashed, and mana danced around her horn. “Speak! Thou hast failed, and thy doom is nigh! Who is thy master?!” A muted booming noise came from behind her. The sound was loud and close enough to discern clearly from all the other noise in the immediate area, but not so much that Luna let it distract her from her interrogation. At least, not until a battle cannon shell landed on the Nob she was restraining. The explosion obliterated the Ork in an instant and sent the Iron Gage skidding across the lot. Luna was bowled over by the shock wave, and her armor shrieked against the ground while she scraped to a stop on her side. Even after stopping she remained still for several seconds, completely stunned; the flash, noise, and explosive pressure had knocked her senseless. While her magic shielding had protected her head from being physically crushed, it did little against the sensory overload. When the Princess did collect her senses and stand up, she saw a Leman Russ battle tank rumbling toward her some twenty meters away. At first she was confused, wondering if the tank had simply fired on the Ork without realizing that she had been interrogating it or that she had been in the blast zone. Only when an Ork popped his head out of the (conspicuously absent) top hatch did she realize that the shot had been a near-miss, not an imprudent attack of opportunity. “By the stars! We take our eyes off thee for but a moment and thou art already absconding with our armored cohorts!” Luna complained. She had done her best to contain the Ork threat in the lots, but there was simply so much space and so many reserve vehicles that the Meks had apparently managed to hijack one right under her nose. One of the heavy bolter sponsons came alive, spraying an arc of fire across Luna’s legs. The explosive bolts crashed against her plating in bursts of fiery scarlet, leaving small dents behind but failing to breach the outer plating. The Iron Gage swung in front of Luna, shielding her head from the barrage while she waited for the battle cannon to fire again. A few seconds later it did, and the turret rocked back behind a puff of flame. The shell sailed high, arcing to fly well over Luna’s head, but she had no intention of letting the ordnance land without intervention anyway. Her horn flashed, and the battle cannon shell froze in the air, suspended in an aura of glittering blue just above her horn. The Iron Gage leapt up next to the munition and flicked the edge, spinning it around to point at the looted tank. Then it swung behind the shell, rearing back as if it were preparing to punch it. Which it did, slamming its obsidian knuckles into the projectile and sending it sailing back on a stream of crackling azure power. The shell hammered the tank’s front plating hard, but before Luna could assess the damage or attack again she heard another Orkish battle cry from behind. A loud hiss followed the angry howl, which seemed strange until the dark alicorn was engulfed in the flames of an inferno cannon. The Princess yelped and bolted away, feeling the fire sear her cheeks and neck past the protections of her magic. Bullets of a wide mix of calibers careened around her while she flailed, occasionally bouncing off her ebony plating with a metallic crack. The Leman Russ, having shaken off her attack, lurched forward toward the alicorn, aiming to crush her beneath its treads. “Halt, villain!” barked Luna, summoning the Iron Gage back to her. One gauntlet was still lying too far away for her to pick up easily, but the other launched forward through the air and slammed into the tank’s left track like a crimson rocket. The outer shielding buckled, and the vehicle ground to a halt as metal crumpled and tore from the treads. With the vehicle slowed, Luna spared a glance behind her. A Hellhound flame tank was creeping from a row of similar vehicles, its top hatch conspicuously missing. The Hellhound’s inferno cannon was still rebuilding pressure after its last shot, but the tank hull-mounted heavy bolter roared to life as soon as the alicorn was within its arc of fire. A wild spray sawed across the ground at her hooves, and Luna lost her balance briefly when one shell cracked against her knee and nearly sent her tumbling. The Hellhound shuddered to a stop while she regained her footing, and its main weapon swiveled about and took aim again. “TIME TO GET THIS PARTY STARTED!! WOOOOO!!” The odd battle cry was accompanied by a stitch of cannon shots that tore into the Hellhound’s side. Armor plating folded and collapsed under the brutal impacts, and one shell punched into the tank’s fuel reserves, ripping it free of the chassis and sending it flying. The fuel tanks detonated before they hit the ground, splattering the Hellhound with spinning hoops of liquid fire. Some of the blazing fluid spilled inside the shattered entry hatch, and the vehicle suddenly made a sharp, wild turn as angry Orkish bellows came from inside. “ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?!?!” Pinkie Pie’s Contemptor Dreadnought sprinted across the lots, its butcher cannon roaring and crazed laughter booming from its vox. The Hellhound didn’t manage to get its bearing before the assault walker reached it, and Pinkie swung her power fist directly into the cockpit. The hull armor and superstructure crumpled immediately under the force of the impact, rendering the Ork hijackers indistinguishable from the mess of shredded hull and components around them. “Got one!” Pinkie chirped, wrenching her Dreadnought’s arm free before kicking the ruined Hellhound away. “Miss Pie! Thou hast returned!” Luna shouted while the Iron Gage ripped a heavy bolter sponson off the side of the looted Leman Russ. “The gateway hath opened!” “Yupperooni!” Pinkie twisted toward the looted battle tank and loosed another salvo with her butcher cannon. Shells larger than a man’s fist pounded the front of the tank, further chewing apart the heavy front armor. “The others were arguing over who should go first, so I ran in! The portal works!” The looted Russ fired its battle cannon again, causing Luna to flinch away from the noise. Pinkie jumped to the side just in time, shaking the ground with her landing as the shell sailed past. “WOOO! Close one!” the mare laughed while the shell detonated behind her. “WAAAAAAAAAGH!!” The roar of an Ork charge came from the far end of the lot, and Pinkie’s helmet visor picked up dozens of new greenskins sprinting between the parked vehicles. Incidentally, they all registered as friendly units to her visor too, but like most of the Equinoughts she mostly ignored the data readouts from her reticule. “Miss Pie! Art thine allies coming?” The Iron Gage fired a screaming beam of power into the enemy Russ at near point-blank range, finally breaking through the last of the armor layers and pulverizing the crew. “Though surely we possess strength enough to turn back this tide, further aid would be most appreciated!” “Yeah! Probably! I mean… They were actually talking about how whoever goes first should step back through to let them know that the gateway worked, so… maybe?” Her butcher cannon shuddered while it cut a line of devastation across the enemy ranks, littering the ground with heavy casings. “Should I go back? I can go back.” “Nay! Hold thy ground!” Luna bellowed, flattening a Slugga Boy with the Iron Gage. The other gauntlet swiped in an arc in front of her, swatting away another pair of warriors. “We shalt smite the alien and deny them the Company’s armaments! We cannot falter!” Two Orks riding yaks bolted around a line of APCs, bellowing their war cries while loosing their shootas into Pinkie’s side. Bullets scraped and hammered the plating over her Dreadnought’s arm, and then they split apart before racing around her. She swiped at the Nob in front of her, the massive fingers of her power fist coming close enough to singe the alien’s back. The yak swerved away, though, keeping its rider from the walker’s clutches. The Ork swiveled around in his seat, laughing while he sprayed shoota fire across her front plating. The Nob diverting behind her went largely unnoticed, at least until he launched himself off of his mount and landed on the Contemptor’s back. Pressure sensors alerted the cockpit to a rogue presence, but Pinkie didn’t take notice until she heard a shoota fire into the engine block. The sound of dozens of ricochets rang through the cockpit, and several icons flashed on her output display. “Hey! C’mon, I just got here! You can’t wreck me already!” A rokkit spiraled overhead and crashed into the ground, and she swiftly turned toward a Tankbusta who had broken cover. A single shot from her butcher cannon tore the Ork in half, and his smoldering rokkit launcha bounced across the bloodstained ground. Another burst of gunfire to her rear, and an icon started flashing red. “Uh oh. That looks important.” She squinted at the damage rune while her cannon continued to carve through the enemy mobs. “I can’t believe this thing didn’t come with an instruction manual! There’s so many doohickeys and not even any buttons or anything!” She swung her Dreadnought around, swinging again for the yak-mounted Nob making another pass. This time she connected, and the rider was flattened into a sizzling paste before being flung away across the lot. Another volley from her gun cut into a slugga mob, obliterating two warriors before the rest scattered back into cover. Luna had been surrounded further down, but the alicorn was a veritable whirlwind of ebony metal and crimson flashes, picking apart the aliens as fast as they approached. The pressure sensors again alerted Pinkie Pie to the Nob moving on top of her. She swung the torso sharply to the right, trying to loosen the Ork, but soon she heard the sound of something hammering at her walker’s helmet. “Aw, fudgemuffins,” Pinkie groaned, hearing the helmet seals start to crack under the strain of the Ork’s blows. Seconds later a knife stabbed through the seam into the cockpit, and she flinched away and squeaked as the jagged blade levered the helmet off. The Nob yanked his stabby choppa out of the breach, and then pried the helmet off. “I gotcha now, ya squishy-“ A banana cream pie flew out of the cockpit, slapping into his face. Then Pinkie pulled the helmet closed again. The Nob hesitated a moment in bewilderment, then wiped his face off with an arm. “Wot da zog is… wuz dat a hoss?” he could have sworn he saw something bright pink before his vision had been obscured by whipped cream. While it didn’t seem like such a stretch that the spikies were making horse dreads given that they already had horses in power armor, it was still a bit galling and slightly worrisome. The Orks hadn’t had the best of luck fighting horses on this planet, particularly that big black one with the floaty star hair currently tearing apart the supporting mobs. It was starting to make some of the more superstitious greenskins nervous. And now the equines were piloting the enemy’s biggest, stompiest battle walkers? The Nob was still contemplating the pony-manned Dreadnought and what to do about it when a rail rifle blasted through the back of his head. “Void’s breath, it’s a mess over here,” Daniels grumbled, staring down at the pile of gore under his boots. Electric arcs sizzled across the accelerator tines of his rail rifle, fairly worn after seeing so much use in a day. “Daniels! You made it!” Pinkie Pie cheered, her voice booming from the Contemptor’s amplified vox grille. “Then they didn’t decide that I had been disintegrated or dropped into some trap and kill Princess Celestia in revenge! Yay!” “What?!” Luna jerked her head around in alarm. “Wherefore doth thee-OW!” She flinched back from a slugga shot that was barely deflected from her eye, and then shook her head. The Iron Gage descended on the Ork responsible, crushing him between their palms. “Yeah, no one really expected you to check back. There was quite a fuss about the next person to go through, though. Not everyone is as expendable as you, I guess.” Daniels turned back toward the shimmering crimson gateway and stuck his head inside. “Hey, it works! Just watch your step, because there’s an awful lot of WHOA!” Daniels lurched backward from the portal, scrambling to get out of the way before a power-armored body sprinted out of the red-tinted gloom. Dest didn’t pause noticeably after emerging into Ferrous Dominus, charging straight ahead toward the battle while his fingers stretched into claws. “Yet again we must purge the greenskin filth from the streets!” The pilot shouted, his voice booming from a vox grille bracketed by iron fangs. “I know, right? I feel like we JUST did this!” Pinkie voiced her agreement as the Iron Warrior bounded past her toward the Ork battle lines. “Advance! Break the enemy formation! Shatter their leaders, then slay the survivors!” Dest snarled while he ran. “Wheeeeeeeee!” Pinkie shouted, her Contemptor bounding after the possessed Astartes. Dest reached the Orks first, diving deep into a mob while his limbs scythed all around him. Three greenskins fell in the first instant, and the unit Nob turned just in time to have his power klaw scissored off by crab-like blades. Dest’s boot found his stomach, and the larger greenskin was propelled back into the mob while blood sprayed across his subordinates. Pinkie’s Dreadnought crashed into them moments later, flailing inelegantly and scattering the warriors with the sheer size of her walker. Two boyz were crushed underfoot, while a third was backhanded into the side of a tank, striking the side armor hard enough to be reduced to a red and green smear. After that the mare happily stomped and swung through the mob, largely impervious to the desperate choppa blows all around her. Luna electrocuted an Ork that was trying to hack at her leg, and was pleasantly surprised to see a bolt shell strike the next enemy in line before she could get to it. The alien’s shoulder exploded after the mass-reactive round drilled into it, knocking him over while his arm rolled away across a slick of blood. “Hark! Further reinforcements approach!” the Princess of the Night cheered. A pair of Iron Warriors were advancing from the gateway, their boltguns thundering while alien entrails were crushed under their greaves. “The hour of our retribution is at hoof! Let none of the foe escape!” A gauntlet slapped another warrior onto the ground, and the other formed a fist and hammered down onto the greenskin. A detonation suddenly swallowed the APC behind Luna, and the blast wave and scattered shrapnel knocked her off her hooves again. She skidded across the ferrocrete, slamming into a wounded Ork boy and tripping him over on top of her. A kick and a flash of azure magic sent the Ork flying across the lot, and Luna stood up with an angry snarl. A Vindicator siege tank was rumbling toward her with smoke still wafting from its demolisher cannon. The top of the tank bore the telltale signs of forced entry, and a pair of squealing Gretchin were riding on top while whooping obnoxiously. Luna barely had time to identify the threat before a lascannon speared into the side of the Vindicator. Armor warped and sloughed off the impact point, and the tank shuddered to a halt. The Princess turned her attention to her portal, and was quite pleased to see a formation of three Leman Russ tanks rolling out of the gateway in a line. What Ork remains that hadn’t already been crushed under the boots of power armored warriors were ground to a wet slurry under the tanks’ heavy treads, almost completely obscuring the Chaos runes that had been scorched into the ground. The lead tank already had the looted Vindicator in its sights, and it spent but a moment before its main turret fired, putting a battle cannon shell into the same armor plate it had targeted with its laser. The siege tank rocked back, battered but not broken. Two more cannon shots from the other Leman Russes finished the job, blowing out half the vehicle and annihilating the Mek that had commandeered it. Once they had confirmed the kill, the tanks split into a spearhead formation and their sponson guns started tearing at the Ork infantry. More and more troops marched through the gateway. Iron Warriors and mercenaries. Dark Techpriests and their Scavurel attendants. Ponies and Fire Warriors. Scores of transports emerged from the portal and then turned, clearing space for the next group before turning loose their soldiers. The sudden flow of reinforcements swiftly broke the Ork mobs trying to seize the armor lots, frustrated as they were already trying and failing to overwhelm a single, well-armed alicorn. The greenskins raced for the streets, the Meks abandoned their efforts to pry open tank hatches, and the few allied griffons that had been aiding the Ork advance scattered into the air. Before long, all the vehicles and soldiers from the assault team had emerged in Ferrous Dominus, including those that held captives and samples. Those particular transports wheeled around to move out of the way and out of potential combat zones. Only then, after every other Company asset was through the gateway, did General Harlin emerge into Ferrous Dominus. “…… It seems my suspicions were misplaced,” the General said calmly while he secured his respirator mask. “This witchcraft has indeed delivered us into the heart of the fortress, and not a moment too soon.” Ponies of the Equestrian Royal Guard started racing through after him, forming a defensive circle. Finally Princess Celestia emerged from the swirling pool of magic, her horn awash in a golden glow. Only when her hooves had firmly settled upon the sticky, bloodstained ground did she let her magic fade, and the gateway rapidly shrunk to a pinpoint before vanishing entirely. “By the sun and stars,” one Guard said, coughing into his hoof, “what have the insurgents done to this place?! The sky is nearly black with smoke and you can barely breathe! How did they cause this much damage so quickly?” “They didn’t. It’s always like this,” replied Jerriha, who was standing nearby with a squad of Fire Warriors. “There are a few more smoke columns than usual, but the city is mostly unharmed as far as I can tell.” “It probably would have been best had you left your retinue behind, honestly,” Harlin said to Celestia. “But no matter. We must make contact with the-.” “SISTER!!” The magic-enhanced bellow nearly knocked the General over, and he stumbled aside just before Luna dropped from the sky in front of her sibling. “Thou hast rescued our allies from whence they tarry! Well done!” Celestia, for her part, was staring at the ground beneath her hooves and raising them one by one. “Luna, what is this? Why were you not here holding the gateway open?” “There were complications. It doth not bear recall,” Luna said dismissively. “Quickly! We must pursue the foe and dispatch them, lest they find less capable prey!” “This almost looks like a sacrificial circle! These are Chaos sigils, Luna!” Celestia narrowed her eyes. “’Tis hardly unusual to find Chaos sigils in a Chaos bastion, Sister,” Luna scoffed. “They’re YOUR Chaos sigils, Luna!” Celestia said more firmly. A crackling power sword suddenly stabbed into the space between the two alicorns, and they recoiled in surprise. General Harlin held the blade in place, his brow furrowed in irritation and his other hand resting on his bolt pistol’s holster. “Princesses, while I appreciate your contributions to our bastion’s defense, I must request you put aside this meaningless banter until a less sensitive time. We now have the weaponry and manpower to decisively turn back this invasion, but there is much yet to do.” The mares pinned their ears back, looking embarrassed. “Now, then. Techpriest!” One of the cyborg cultists stepped forward from a cluster of his peers. “General Harlin, please proceed with your query.” “What is the current status of the local vox-net? I have been unable to contact any commanders.” “Vox-net capability has been compromised. The deliberate targeting of communications infrastructure combined with interference from local signum bafflers has rendered all but short-range vox unreliable.” The Dark Techpriest’s optics flickered while long stretches of code passed before his eyes. “Bafflers? What’s that about?” Daniels interjected. “Obviously if the attackers were smart enough to hit the relays that would hurt our comms, but how did Orks and a bunch of angry natives get vox-scramblers? I thought only the Tau had that tech.” “This hypothesis remains likely. The interference we are experiencing is consistent with such units commonly deployed by the Lamman Sept,” the Techpriest droned. Several soldiers and ponies looked over at Jerriha. She shrugged at them, apparently having nothing useful to add. “General,” the Dark Techpriest continued, “communications on the noosphere network have been expanded to take advantage of additional manifold processing assets. You may relay prioritus beta communications through my colleagues as necessary.” “Excellent. Contact command immediately for a status update. We need to find the bastion’s initial breach and the other sectors most in need of reinforcement,” Harlin said, sheathing his power sword again. The Dark Techpriest blurted an unpleasant-sounding noise. “Priority order nullified. Command assets have been terminated.” “Makes sense. If somebody was feeding them important targets, the command center would be the most valuable objective after the fusion reactor,” Jerriha grumbled. “The emphasis on degrading our infrastructure and command hierarchy rather than hunting our infantry or simply killing every human the insurgents see smacks of Tau tactics,” Harlin noted, casting a suspicious glare at the Fireblade. “But no matter. Dark Techpriest, contact Warpsmith Kessler. He should have direct access to your noosphere.” The Dark Techpriest blurted an unpleasant-sounding noise again. “Priority order nullified. Warpsmith Kessler has been terminated.” This news had a visible effect on the troops. Luna gasped in shock, and several soldiers spat curses. Celestia shook her head sadly. “Damnable xenos… Get me a strategis sitrep, Techpriest. I don’t care who it’s from,” Harlin demanded. “Lieutenant Jannis… status: deceased. Captain Gorvid… status: deceased. Captain Whit… status: deceased. Commander Reval… status: deceased. Captain Juul… status: deceased.” The Techpriest continued listing names, each one followed by a brief confirmation that the officer in question had died. Luna’s expression, already mournful, quickly descended into shock, and after the twentieth name had been declared dead an arc of red lightning flashed around her horn. “By the light of the moon, how is this possible?!” the mare demanded angrily. “The traitors and greenskins struck a blow whilst we were unprepared, but this sort of damage is beyond them!” The Dark Techpriest hesitated. “All fighting units of rank Sergeant and above are augmented with subdermal bio-chip implants for ease of diagnosing combat injury and casualty tracking. Several perished during the assault on the command center, as fits strategis projections.” He paused again. “I am unable to determine the tactical conditions under which it occurred, but most of the other such officers were terminated simultaneously at a later point in time.” “I’m so sorry,” Celestia said sadly, shaking her head. Fluttershy flickered into the visible spectrum next to her, looking up at the Princess of the Sun. “Had I moved sooner, perhaps more could have been saved.” “So we’re flying blind, then. It doesn’t matter,” Harlin growled. “I WILL purge this filth from our streets and return control of Ferrous Dominus to the 38th Company Iron Warriors.” He glared down at Celestia. “Your world may have proven slightly more difficult to tame than we thought, but this failure will be corrected.” He turned sharply on his heel. “Soldiers! Our point of entry into the fortress is fortuitous; any soldier or Tech-adept who can pilot a vehicle is to choose one immediately! The enemy is lacking in armored support, including the greenskins; it’s no wonder they were making a push to loot ours so quickly. You’ll form up into hunter-killer squadrons immediately and be assigned sector sweeps! After-“ “General Harlin. Forgive the interruption. We have a prioritus alpha communication.” The Dark Techpriest from before loomed over the man’s shoulder, his servo arm clanking shut. The General frowned, but most of his men were already moving to obey his orders. “Yes? Is it from the other Dark Techpriests? You said it was alpha? It would either be from them or an Iron Warrior. Perhaps Lord Serith?” “Negative. The data-packet is from Fio’el Fennin, a xeno engineer.” “Fennin?!” Jerriha exclaimed. “What does he know about all this? Shouldn’t he be stuck in the manufactorum during a lockdown?” “I am uncertain as to how this code burst entered the noosphere data-logs, but it is tagged as a strategis priority. Fennin has ascertained that Xenis detachment assets are responsible for the failure of the defensive matrix. Datafile sub-tag: Commander Voidsong.” Celestia gasped. Luna whinnied angrily. Jerriha clutched her pulse carbine angrily. Daniels whistled. “How? How is any of this possible?” Harlin demanded. “More importantly, how do we fix the defense systems?” “Error. File corruption detected. Transmission burst was interrupted by tertiary access codex.” The Dark Techpriest stepped in front of Harlin, and then turned around. “Additional data capture… inload complete. Xeno life-form approaching perimeter palisade. Initiating scan… error. File match not found. Augur match inconclusive. Error. Error.” “What are you on about? What’s the matter now?” Harlin demanded impatiently. “We have enough problems with enemies inside the walls, and there’s something coming from the outside as well?” “Affirmative. Organism class theta… error. Estimated mass displacement… error… error… logis processing unable to comply… error.” While General Harlin tried to make sense of the Techpriest’s sputtering, Luna jumped into the air. The crystal spines of her flight pack glowed, vaulting her straight up into the soot-stained skies over Ferrous Dominus. As she flew, Luna’s helmet re-engaged, crawling up her neck in a creeping swarm of black plates. Soon her head was again enclosed in the pressurized seal of her armor, and her vision was masked by data-feeds and targeting matrices. As before, those systems were baffled by the false IFF signums that had blanketed the fortress. Numerous friendly signums were marked, sometimes assigned to distant combatants within the dirty gloom of the city’s streets, and sometimes marking out random objects that clearly weren’t even individuals. But it didn’t matter; that wasn’t the particular function she needed her visor for. Once she was at sufficient altitude, Luna could see over the intervening buildings to the palisade. The thick, spiked, turret-laden edifice that had failed so completely to stop this invasion still stood as tall and proudly as ever. Having found her point of reference, she started to turn in the air, scanning the palisade for anything out of the ordinary. After a few seconds, she found it. A strange, discolored dark splotch that was barely visible in the distance. With a blink, her visor zeroed in on the patch of darkness, scrubbing the image capture of particulate interference and magnifying it. It also happened to tag the incoming mass as Applejack, but that meaningless inaccuracy was discarded as Luna’s eyes bulged. “By the stars… an ursa major?” **** Ferrous Dominus – exterior “Oh, blast. Is that fool really doing this?” Crouched uncomfortably on the back of a Strider battlesuit, Fennin tapped irritably on his engineering tablet. Several lines of transmission had been disconnected, and a pair of circular graphics that represented node access points flashed red. He touched the node, and a window expanded to explain in painful detail how he had been ejected from the manifold connection he had been using to pass data packets into the noosphere. “Well? Did it work?” Fennin glanced over to Wraithstar. The Shas’el was sitting on another Strider, his legs hanging off the side. “No. The Fio’o is monitoring the network traffic, apparently, and he found my rogue signal very quickly.” Fennin grimaced and tapped his tablet. The Strider under Wraithstar turned its blocky head to shine its main sensors on Fennin. “What does that mean, precisely? Surely you don’t mean to say that you can’t do anything about the sabotage!” said Rarity’s voice from its comms speaker. “It doesn’t mean that at all,” Fennin assured her. “But I can’t do it from here. I need direct, manual access to the base’s drone controller. Get me there, and I’ll have every drone in Ferrous Dominus shut down no matter what the Fio’o does.” “That’s on this side of the city, luckily. And if the manufactorum is on lockdown, I can get you inside,” said the Strider Fennin was perched on. “So… that just leaves the little issue of getting inside the fortress itself,” Wraithstar mused aloud. “Yes, well… I don’t think that wall is going to be much of an obstacle to entry much longer, darling,” Rarity’s Strider said with a sigh, shifting its gaze back to the fortress-factory. The Striders and their passengers were standing atop a small hill, less than a kilometer away from the palisade. Even closer than that to the fortress perimeter, and closing at a rather sanguine pace, was Big Bloo. The Tau didn’t know what to make of the thing, except that it was a new brand of Ork monstrosity that they had never seen before and hoped they’d never see again. Bigger than even the most massive Squiggoths, the titanic star-spangled bear dwarfed any land-based war machine either of the aliens had seen or even heard of. Fennin wasn’t even sure that the Imperium’s infamous Titans would compare. The ponies, for their part, knew of the famed ursa major, but were fairly stunned to see one captured and weaponized by the Orks. Huge chains secured ragged plates of metal to the flanks and legs of the beast. Atop its back was enough guns to arm an entire fleet of Battlewagons, including a central cannon that looked at if it had been scavenged from a defeated Gargant. The ursa’s head had been encased in a massive, horned helm that was chained to a pair of steering gears over the shoulders, and had a cluster of oversized skorchas hammered into place on the sides of its jaws. Because why not. The Striders’ scouting auguries allowed them to easily pick out the numerous Orks manning the bear’s battlements and weapons. The combat platform was a veritable fortress, and looked to be packed to bursting with infantry. Trailing behind the enormous bear were more transports and a few Guntrukks, but they seemed like an almost embarrassing escort to such a monster. “We need to get inside and get the guns working again. After that, the Company can surely bring down that… thing,” Wraithstar declared, hoping his voice sounded stronger to the ponies than it sounded to himself. “Are you sure? The ursa will be inside the fortress by then, you know,” Rarity pointed out. Even as they discussed the matter, a few scattered bursts of gunfire erupted from the palisade. Half a dozen lascannons and autocannons lashed out desperately at Big Bloo, surely manned by a handful of soldiers who had noticed the beast’s approach amongst the bedlam of the invasion. Even then, however, the city’s macrocannon turrets remained silent while the ursa strode forward. One massive paw rose, and then talons longer than battle tanks carved through the bulkhead. Cannons on either flank erupted, hammering layered plating apart. Lesser weapons covered the palisade battlements with burst fire, driving away what few defenders there were or tearing them apart. Again and again the ursa major clawed at the wall, tearing long, deep gouges into the reinforcement layers. Then one of the chains linked to its helmet tugged at it, followed by the other chain. The bear paused, and then backed up several massive steps. The soopagun on its back fired, shaking the rest of the battle platform with its recoil. The explosion was immense, briefly blinding the Strider’s augurs and even making Bloo herself flinch away from the shock wave. When the smoke cleared, a large hole had been blasted into the tear that the ursa had carved open. Not quite big enough for the bear itself, but it would only take a little more clawing to get the extra clearance needed. “This isn’t going well,” Gear Works mumbled from within the Strider. Fennin swiped his hand across his screen, shutting it down. “It looks like reinforcements are arriving, at least. That should keep the total damage down.” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” Everyone flinched as an exuberant scream came from above, followed by the roar of engines. Glancing up, they could see two figures in power armor blasting across the sky, trailing fire in the direction of Ferrous Dominus. “Or maybe it will just make things worse,” Fennin grumbled, “you know, whatever.” “The Orks are piling in through the hole in the palisade. We should go,” Rarity said with a sigh. The Tau shifted his posture to something more appropriate for riding, and the Striders soon took off at a light run toward the wall. “I hope that Shas’o Voidsong isn’t still in the city when we attempt to restore the defensive matrix!” Fennin yelled to his companions. “Things would get ugly, quick!” “I very much hope she is!” Wraithstar shouted back. “If we or any other Tau are to survive the repercussions of her betrayal, it will take more than the testimonials of a few ponies that we sought to oppose Voidsong! We’re going to need a trophy! You should consider locating the Shas’o a secondary objective only to knocking out the drone network!” His eyes narrowed. “Voidsong WILL face the consequences of what she’s done. And if I have it my way, they’ll come from the barrel of a pulse rifle, not a boltgun…”