//------------------------------//
// A New Dawn 
// Story: Strange Bedfellows 
// by BRBrony9 
//------------------------------//

Lord-Admiral Marcos paced up and down the bridge of the Emperor's Judgement, as he had done almost constantly since the battle, only taking brief respite to sleep and eat. It could be argued that, from a purely hardware standpoint, the Imperials had won the fight in the heavens, but Chaos now controlled the planet, and the fate of those trapped there. Lord-General Galen had urged him to remain in high orbit in case the warp storm should dissipate, and he had agreed to remain for a minimum of a week while repairs were conducted on his ships. It seemed highly likely that, if the Crusade fleet continued on its journey, the Chaos warfleet would continue its pursuit, since so far as Marcos knew that was the reason behind its arrival in the first place. His ships had taken heavy losses and the Lord-Admiral burned to avenge his men, just as Galen desired to avenge his who were no doubt fighting and dying below.

And so Marcos was back on the bridge, pacing, overseeing repairs and pickets, scans and logistics transfers, all the minutiae of fleet management. It is as if we are parked at Segmentum Headquarters for routine maintenance, he mused. And yet we are almost at the edge of the galaxy.

'My Lord!' A shout went up. 'Unusual readings on Auspex.'

'Where? What kind of readings?' Marcos jumped on the new information eagerly.

'Coming from the system's star, My Lord,' the junior Auspex officer replied. 'Fluctuations, My Lord. I'm reading increases in x-ray emissions, gamma ray emissions, ultraviolet...' 

'Just another solar flare?' Marcos questioned.

'I-i'm not sure, My Lord...the readings are...different than we were taught,' the ensign replied. A more senior Auspex Lieutenant moved over to take control of the console himself. He scanned over the readings displayed on screen.

'My Lord...! It is a flare, but...if these readings are correct, it is...enormous! Far greater than the daily natural occurrences we have been observing...' The Lieutenant peered at the data scrolling before his eyes. 'My Lord, this flare poses an imminent danger to the fleet! It is targeted directly at the planet, and we are in its path!'

Marcos frowned. A solar flare, out of seemingly nowhere, of such magnitude as to threaten the fleet with its hard radiation and disruption? While such a flare posed no direct physical risk to the ships, the radiation it gave off could easily fry sensors and external weapons systems, poison any man caught performing an EVA or in unshielded sections, and irradiate the hulls of his craft. To add to his consternation, the Lieutenant spoke again.

'My Lord, the flare is growing in magnitude...our sensors register it as an X-class event...magnitude is...10...correction, 15...25...My Lord, it...the scale only goes up to 50...' the Lieutenant trailed off, but quickly spoke again. 'Detecting a major coronal mass ejection! My Lord, all of this solar activity is directed straight at us.'

It could only be a Chaos trick, surely. Marcos was convinced. No star would conveniently suffer from the largest solar flare potentially ever recorded aimed directly at a nearby planet while an Imperial fleet was in orbit around it and a Chaos fleet was protected by a warp storm. 

'Comms! Signal the fleet. Alert them to the danger. They are to move three-hundred million miles away from the galactic plane. Captain Bormann, the same if you please.'

'Yes, My Lord.' Flag-Captain Bormann turned to issue a string of orders to his bridge officers, and the vast bulk of the Emperor's Judgement swung steadily in space, its main drives flaring and pushing it out of harm's way. The radiation from the flare, traveling at the speed of light, would be upon them in a matter of minutes. 

'My Lord, the coronal mass ejection event is maxing out the sensor equipment. We cannot measure its true scale,' the Auspex officer informed him. 'There are...unexplained readings with the ejecta, my lord. I cannot identify them, but...they are not normal.'

Nothing about this seems normal, Marcos thought. 'What kind of readings, Lieutenant?'

'I do not know, sir. Spikes in various parameters, I have never seen this before...and My Lord, there is something else. Its velocity...the velocity is tremendous. I did not think such speed was possible for a coronal mass ejection.'

Marcos narrowed his eyes. 'Are we out of the danger zone, Lieutenant?'

'Yes, My Lord. The fleet has cleared the corridor,' the Auspex officer replied. Marcos took a look at the viewscreen which was now displaying the system's star.

A vast phosphorescent bloom had erupted from the surface, the corona of the star having bulged outward like a bubble before releasing the towering blast of plasma a million miles long out into the void. A beautiful yet dangerous sight at the best of times, and this event, if the Auspex officer's words were correct, was larger, significantly larger, than any previously known to the Imperium.

'Comms. Open a channel with the Ferrus Terra,' Marcos ordered. 

'Aye sir!' The Ferrus Terra was the Fleet's Adeptus Mechanicus science vessel, which had been monitoring the warp storm and now had its attentions focused entirely on the star.

'Arch-Magos Darius,' came the reply over the vox from the Ferrus Terra's commander and the leader of the Mechanicus contribution to the Crusade fleet.

'Arch-Magos, I trust you are observing the solar flare,' Marcos spoke. 'My sensor officer reports discrepancies in his readings. Can you confirm and account for them?'

'Confirm them, yes. Account for them? Not at this stage, Lord-Admiral,' Darius replied, the artificial nature of his voice evident even over the crackling vox, as like many high-ranking Mechanicus adepts, his voice box had long since gone to be replaced by a digital one in the never-ending pursuit for mechanical perfection. 'We are reading ejecta speeds in excess of one-hundred-four-point-six-six-five million miles per hour. At that velocity the first of the ejecta will reach the planet in precisely thirty-eight minutes, nineteen seconds. Such a calculation has been quadruple-checked and backed up by data logs from a dozen ships of the fleet. Such a velocity for coronal mass ejecta is almost ten times higher than any previously recorded by Imperial science. Indeed, it is well above the theoretical limits for the speed of such an event.'

'Then there must be some mistake in the science,' Marcos pointed out.

'The Mechanicus does not make mistakes, Lord-Admiral,' came the reply, the annoyance audible even in Darius' mechanical voice. 

'In that case, do you have an explanation for the speeds we are seeing?' Marcos questioned. 'Something must be causing it. The warp storm?'

'Not the warp storm, Lord-Admiral. We are detecting unknown readings within the ejecta, the flare preceding it, and within the star itself. We have noticed high concentrations of these readings within the star twice daily, at the times corresponding roughly to sunrise and sunset on the main continent of Kuda Primus. In addition there are similar, though distinct and weaker readings from the planet's moon. Before the warp storm formed we also detected these readings on the planet's surface, in low concentrations across the northern and southern regions of the primary continent, and in somewhat higher concentrations in the central areas.'

Marcos scowled. 'And you did not think to share these readings with the rest of the fleet? With me?'

'They appeared of minor importance. We speculate the unknown particles or interactions, as the case may be, were the cause of the minor sensor and communications interference reported by landing ground forces, but there appeared no cause for concern.'

'Well is this concerning enough for you, Magos?' Marcos grunted. 'So you think these readings, whatever they are, could be the cause of the increased speeds of the ejecta?'

'That would be our conclusion, Lord-Admiral, though obviously we cannot confirm our speculations at this time,' Darius responded. 'Since these particles were detected before the arrival of the Archenemy and the formation of the warp storm, that cannot be their source. The ground forces made no report of the Xenos inhabitants having any advanced technology that could create esoteric particles, and their technology base appears vastly short of the sophistication required for even such primitive activities as simply splitting the atom.'

'So you are saying there is no scientific explanation for this, Magos?' the Admiral questioned. There was a notable pause before Darius replied.

'Not at this stage. Our investigation is ongoing.'

'Well keep looking. Something must have caused this. It's too big of a coincidence,' Marcos ordered. 'Will this have any effect on the planet?'

'Our calculations have refined the trajectory of the ejecta,' Darius replied. 'It appears that the magnetic storm will merely graze the planet's exosphere where the warp storm is located, and not hit the planet itself. The particles will then dissipate harmlessly in space.'

'Will it have any effect on the warp storm, Magos?'

'I do not believe so, Lord-Admiral. 'Mere magnetic fluctuations and radiation have been proven to have no effect on such storms or localised warp disruptions before.'

'Very well,' Marcos replied. 'Continue to monitor and continue your investigations. Oh, and keep me informed this time, Magos.'

'As you wish, Lord Admiral. Darius out.' The vox went dead and Marcos turned to Bormann.

'Captain, once the sensors determine the storm has passed us by, I want the fleet to return to its previous position in space. In case this is a Chaos trick, I want to be ready.' Bormann saluted.

'Aye, sir. The fleet will be repositioned once it is safe. Admiral...do you think the Arch-Magos knows something we don't?' the flag-captain asked. Marcos shook his head.

'No, captain. I think he's as clueless as we are, and when the Adeptus Mechanicus has no ideas, that starts to worry me.'




As mortar shells began to slam into the palace, Princess Luna had erected a magic shield, and the incoming fire bounced harmlessly off of it, the structure and its occupants within protected from the half-hearted bombardment. Cadence and Shining Armour helped direct the royal guard deployments around the palace, liaising with the Griffon Guard, the equivalent organisation within Griffonstone. Celestia, her task completed, returned to the underground command centre.

Major Harding was growling orders into the vox, checking the maps and getting reports from his subordinates. The line was stable around the palace, with the enemy probing but finding it harder to break through against the final, tightened and concentrated defences. Auspex had picked up another wave of dropships entering the atmosphere with a fifteen-minute ETA. Harding had relayed orders through his spotter teams for the pony airships to open fire on any enemy concentrations spotted in the city- most likely the whole population outside of the defensive line were dead anyway, as the forces of Chaos were not known for being merciful and no friendly military assets were contactable beyond the cordon, other than the few surviving Hydras and the Valkyries who joined in the strafing runs. Darkness had long since fallen totally in the mountains, and the night was clear of cloud. No stars could be seen, as the warp storm blocked much of the light coming through from them, though for whatever reason the sun's rays could still reach them during the day, and the moon's light at night. The airship searchlights played over the streets and courtyards, the craft letting off an occasional volley as a target presented itself, the heavy shells smashing rooftops and cobbled streets and scything down enemy infantry.

'How goes the fight, Major?' Celestia asked, trotting in along with Lieutenant Albaran, much to Harding's surprise.

'We're holding, just about, but they have reinforcements incoming. Now how about you tell me exactly what you were doing while the rest of us were fighting?' he demanded, not bothering to look round at her as he was focused on the battle.

'You shall see soon enough,' she replied. 'But if you wish me to fight directly, then I will be happy to oblige if if would help.'

'We need all the help we can get. If you think you can fight, then go ahead, princess,' Harding grunted. It was clear he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of her, but he was sure he knew the truth already. She hadn't done a damn thing, just some grand fakery to appease her citizens and blind her allies, probably how she ran her demesne all the time. By the time they knew different they would probably all be dead except her. Harding was surprised she hadn't fled already. The Griffon King seemed to have made himself scarce, probably through some tunnel or bolt-hole only his closest cronies knew about. Who knew if this pony had similar plans?

'Very well.' Celestia nodded. 'Where do you need me most?' she asked. Harding glanced around finally to look at her. She seemed determined to fight, no doubt to sacrifice herself in vain- or, more probably, to sneak away while nobody was watching.

'The southeastern sector is where the enemy is closest to breaking through,' he replied. 'They're making a heavy push and the infantry there are mostly safe from your airships' guns. We also expect the enemy reinforcements to land on the eastern snowfield.' Celestia nodded again, firmly. 

'Then that is where I shall go.' With a tiny glow of her horn and a sudden pop of displaced air, she was gone. Harding blinked. Perhaps that tiara of hers was actually a teleport homer? 




Celestia reappeared in the courtyard outside, towards the southeast flank, outside of her sister's shield that protected the palace. Gunfire rattled and crackled nearby. Smoke wafted through the streets and mortar bombs whistled in overhead. She set off towards the frontline, passing a few wounded humans dragging themselves to the aid stations located in the same building as the above-ground command post. Up ahead she saw some of her own troops, mares and stallions of the Pegasi Assault Division, holding a makeshift barricade of carts and furniture that blocked the street. Human troops could be seen watching from the windows of the neighbouring buildings. She approached the line. 

One of the Pegasi turned and saw her, acting reflexively. 'Platoon, attention!' he shouted, saluting. 'Your Highness!'

'As you were, everypony,' she urged them. 'How do you fare this night?'

'The enemy has just fallen back again, Your Highness,' the same pony, a black stallion Pegasus, replied. 'We are holding the line,' he stated proudly. His rifle showed clear signs of use, with powder marks around the barrel and spent brass around his hooves. The Assault Division was not used to holding fixed positions, as the name implied, but they had been thrown into the line as a necessity. Operating in their usual role would have seen them massacred against the overwhelming firepower advantage possessed by the enemy, with their rapid-fire red beam weapons, rockets that could apparently be guided, flamethrowers, and half a dozen other types of weapon that even Celestia could only guess at. 

'Very good. You have all done your duty well,' Celestia assured them, her phantasmal mane and tail sparkling, glowing, gently oscillating in the light breeze, like an aurora those at high latitudes would sometimes see in the sky. 'You have done your duty and I know you shall continue to do so. This night shall not be your last. You have fought bravely. At Cloudsdale, and now here. I know you are afraid. But fear not. The night is not yet over, but the dawn is close at hand.' The ponies exchanged welcome glances. None of them knew the exact nature of her words, but merely hearing such things from their princess was more than enough. Every stallion and every mare had absolute faith in Celestia, and they knew for certain that whatever she said, whatever she meant, it would come to pass.



Sergeant Argan knew for certain that the Emperor had forsaken him. He knew because he was on a backwater planet, cut off from the fleet, surrounded by the Archenemy, his weakened platoon assigned as part of the defence line in the southeastern sector, enemy reinforcements making planetfall, and now, to top it all off, a horse-alien was making a rousing speech to its fellows even as men, good men, pious men, were dying to protect its homeworld. Out of the window he could see it- the other horses referred to her as Princess, and he assumed that made her their leader, though he knew the local bird-aliens had a King and he had no idea of the relationship between the two royals or their races. All he knew was that her platitudes made him feel nauseous. It was the exact same tripe the Commissariat would feed into raw Guardsmen in the hours before they died hideous deaths, the exact thing he had heard a dozen, no, perhaps a hundred times before. Somehow he was still here, but his thoughts turned to those who were not- Elias, ripped apart by a pack of Tyranids. Kellie, simply vaporised by a blast from a Tau fusion blaster. Derven, cleft in twain by a hideously oversized Ork blade. Marla, going...just going away, before his very eyes. 

Sergeant Marla Argan, wife of Barnard Argan, Sergeant, Gamma Company, 1st Battalion, 2nd Brigade, 40th Parvian Lancers. Most Imperial Guard regiments discouraged or outright prohibited fraternisation between soldiers, but the Parvians had always played fast and loose with such moral codes and every regiment raised on the planet permitted relationships, provided they were between those 'of similar rank,' defined as either the same rank or one rank above or below. A natural relationship had developed out of basic training, and Barnard, now on an Emperor-forsaken planet, had married Marla. Their union endured for six years, nothing short of a miracle given the nature of their trade. But one operation proved to be one too many. A supportive attack on a planet where a recently-activated Necron Tomb was causing trouble, led to disaster. A company of Astartes were to make the strike, while the Imperial Guard forces provided support, distraction and diversion. Marla was caught, caught in the fire from a Necron Gauss Blaster. Barnard could only watch in abject horror as his wife simply came apart at a molecular level, layer after layer of skin, muscle, tissue, viscera and bone being stripped before his eyes. Within moments, he could no longer see his wife, but merely a mass of flesh, and soon enough not even that. Within seconds she was gone. Completely gone, with nothing remaining except her lasgun which she had dropped. No trace of his love, his wife, his everything. Killed by Xenos, just like all of his good friends. Not accident, not the Warp, not the Archenemy- it was aliens that had stripped his life away. Ever since Marla died, he had held scant regard for his own life, simply trusting in the Emperor. If He willed it, then Barnard would survive. The Argan name would survive. If He did not, well, his wife was waiting up there for him.

Sergeant Argan glanced down at the pony princess. His disgust was tempered by something, somewhere, deep within his mind, that said it was just possible that this species, these Xenos, this princess...might just be different. The thought both revolted and intrigued him in equal measure. Surely such an idea was blasphemous, and yet it felt correct. The horse-princess held a strange unnatural beauty, which he knew meant nothing, the Eldar being a prime example of Xenos beauty that hid their true duplicitous and deceitful nature. But beyond that, he found himself feeling...calmed. His anger lessened, his fear lessened. Some Chaos trick, he wondered? Or was something else at work here? He had felt something at the back of his mind since planetfall, but now, in the vicinity of this Xenos princess, he suspected he might have found the cause. Certainly the horses she was addressing seemed to be enraptured by her words, as a squad of guardmen might be by the apparition of a holy Living Saint of the Adepta Sororitas, seen by many as a physical manifestation of the Emperor's will itself. There had been, of course, thousands, perhaps millions, of sham-cult leaders and self-promoting demagogues throughout human history that had inspired similar devotion in their followers, and there was of course the possibility that this Xenos was cast from a similar mould, simply spouting whatever would keep her in power a little longer.

Having only been planetside for a few days, Argan had no idea of the true geopolitical situation. Perhaps there was a revolving door of princesses, coming and going, being overthrown by their successor who took charge until they in turn were poisoned, shot or imprisoned. Emperor knows that's how most nobility seems to work in the Imperium, he mused. Or perhaps her rule was more stable, and she had been in power for years, decades maybe. In truth the Sergeant didn't really care, and it didn't matter to their ultimate goal. Once the Chaos forces had been defeated, the planet would be theirs, and the inhabitants, most likely, exterminated. There remained a sliver of a possibility that they might sign some kind of treaty with the Xenos, as had been done once or twice here and there across the Imperium with other species. But, Argan reasoned, he was imagining a future that would probably not come to pass- certainly one he would not be part of. The fleet was still cut off, and it was highly likely that they were going to be wiped out in the next few hours.

He turned his attentions away from the Xenos below. His squad, that is to say, himself and Merkev, had been folded into third squad, who had taken casualties including their Sergeant, whom Argan replaced. Given the situation and the requirement for every able-bodied man, Argan had decided to overlook Merkev's earlier cowardice and not report him to the Lieutenant. Merkev had seemingly composed himself in the hours since, and Argan knew that the presence of the traitor marines, to say nothing of the insidious forces of Chaos itself, could elicit such reactions easily enough in mere mortals. The platoon's positions in the buildings either side of the street provided overlapping fields of fire, covering the approaches to the palace. Almost fifty dead traitor infantry already littered the street, felled by las-fire or bullets from the ponies. Two heavy bolters and a rooftop lascannon completed the defences in this sector. Neighbouring streets were covered by other platoons and more pony and Griffon infantry, together with several tanks located on the wider thoroughfares. The enemy had not yet landed any heavy equipment, as tanks were generally unsuited for urban combat, though they were slightly more useful for defence in such situations as they could be dug in and used in a similar fashion to a bunker, as a strongpoint in the defence line.

'Contact front!' someone shouted. Argan looked out of the window. Another howl went up from the enemy as they charged. This time they were led by Astartes, five in total, followed by a hundred screaming soldiers. Fire lashed out at them from the defenders, felling several cultists, but the marines shrugged off the small-arms fire, opening up. Three of them had boltguns, but the other two were more heavily armed. One carried a missile launcher, and the other wielded a plasma gun. Even as Argan watched, both of the heavy weapons fired. 

'Incoming!' he shouted as he saw the missile leave its launcher and spiral towards him. Flinging himself to the floor, Argan was immediately covered with smoke and dust, getting heartily sick of such occurrences. He scrambled to his feet. There was a hole in the wall, fragments of stone still breaking free and dropping down as he watched. The guardsmen in the room had heeded his shout and were alive and already reacting. Argan joined them. Another missile raced by and smashed into the next building along, where one of the heavy bolters was blazing away. There were screams and the crash of falling masonry. Argan brought his lasgun up and fired, adding his shots to those of the rest of his platoon. The marines were forming the spearhead, and while the men charging behind them were running, they were still, like those he had faced earlier, merely walking, though their huge stride length meant they were still keeping pace with the rest of the infantry. They were getting closer to the barricade manned by the ponies, who crouched low, popping up to return fire. At first Argan thought the princess had gone, but then he realised she was merely now standing behind a shimmering golden wall that covered the barricade. That's right, she's a psyker, he reminded himself, the word having been circulated among most of the Imperial units after the officers' briefing. From his quick glance he could see enemy fire, las-bolts and bullets alike, peppering the shield, making it glow an intense white at each point of impact. But nothing broke through. 

Argan fired several short bursts, bringing down two of the enemy infantry. The marines, he knew, couldn't be touched by his weapon, and he would have to leave them to others. Even as he watched, a blast from the defenders lascannon smashed into the shoulder of one of the marines, burning and twisting his pauldron armour. Seemingly unfazed, he unleashed a string of well-aimed bolt fire in return. The lascannon fired again, striking him bodily in the chest and making his stagger. His fellow armed with the plasma gun took up the challenge, and fired in retaliation. Argan followed the shot and winced as he saw it strike the rooftop. The shot was on target, and it struck just shy of the lascannon itself, hitting its power pack instead. A large explosion shattered the top two stories of the building, the roof collapsing with a shriek of cracking timbers and tumbling stone, the lascannon crew vanishing in the fireball. 

The enemy leaped on the opportunity, surging forward. Heavy bolter rounds from the surviving gun blew chunks of ceramite from the armour of the Astartes, and las-fire lashed the street, felling a number of infantry. But they were upon the defences now. Argan glanced at the barricade, and he was surprised by what he saw.

The pony princess was still there, but she was no longer standing. Instead, she was airborne, her broad, feathered wings beating, evidently not just for show. Her horn, already glowing gently, now shone with an incandescent light as she rose above the street. Though Argan had seen some of the smaller ponies and Griffons taking to the air, the princess was considerably larger than any of them, and her wingspan was correspondingly greater as a result. As she climbed above the shield wall, she began to attract fire, both from the marines and traitor guardsmen. But bolt and laser alike flashed to nothingness, a glowing orb surrounding her, protecting her. The marines stood their ground, blasting away at the princess and the members of Argan's platoon as they appeared briefly in the windows to shoot. The traitor infantry continued their headlong charge towards the barricade. They were charging to their deaths.

The light building up in Celestia's horn suddenly discharged with a noise like the cracking of a whip, a blinding flash lighting the street, glowing like the beam of a searchlight as it swept over the cobbled stones. Whatever it touched turned instantly to fire. Men screamed, dropping to the ground like flies, writhing and squirming as the burned. The marines' armour protected them from the flames, and they continued on. Bolt-rounds smashed into her shield and a ball of plasma burst harmlessly against it. The marines were concentrating their fire on the potent psychic threat, allowing the Imperials to engage them. The surviving heavy bolter emptied an entire belt of ammunition into the plasma gun-wielding traitor, sending him stumbling and reeling, innumerable chunks blown out of his armour, but still unharmed. That is, until the princesses' horn glowed again, and unleashed a lance of golden fire, cutting straight through him like a plasma cutter slicing through a thin sheet of metal. The two halves of the armoured whole fell in different directions onto the smouldering cobbles. 

Behind him, almost the entire force of massed attacking infantry lay burning. A few still twitched, their skin smouldering, enough to incapacitate but not to kill immediately, perhaps merely winged by the cone of death.  A small cadre remained, having evaded incineration byhiding in cover, and now taking potshots at the princess. The surviving marines saw the perils of the situation, and began a fighting withdrawal, covering each other in turn as each warrior pulled back down the street, pursued by ineffectual rifle fire. But the princess was not in a merciful mood. Her horn flashed again, and a second marine was felled by her strike, dropping with a steaming hole through his midriff. The surviving infantry began to flee, running in panic for their lives. She struck again, and the marine wounded by lascannon fire lost his head. The two survivors ducked into cover, but it did not save them. With a nod of her head the princess sent a concussive blast into the side of the building they sheltered behind, smashing the wall and stripping the tiles from the roof. The side of the structure collapsed inwards, showering the two survivors with debris that chipped the paint on their armour but did little else. It meant, however, that they were visible again, and a great cheer went up from the ponies manning the barricades as their princess cut them down, bolters firing to the last as they were struck and run through by her golden fire. Argan watched from the window, as the white pony, wreathed in golden fire, floating above the carnage, finished off the last of the enemy attackers. He regarded her with a wary eye, but gave a small approving nod. She may look like an angel, but she fights like a daemon.

The platoon vox net crackled, and the Lieutenant's voice could be heard. 'All callsigns, be advised. Battalion net reports enemy reinforcements inbound, eta for landing is two minutes, I say again, two minutes.' Argan glanced up at the heavens. High above he could see the glowing thrusters of the descending enemy aircraft. They were coming in again, and more bad news came over the vox.

'All callsigns, be advised. Battalion net reports enemy breakthrough in the western sector. Be alert to possible envelopment and flanking maneuvers.' The fight was not yet over, and as impressive as the pony princess had been, she couldn't be everywhere at once. Argan reloaded his lasgun with a fresh power pack. No doubt he would need to use it again before the end of the night- or his life, whichever ended first.

He looked back down at the street. The enemy was not here yet, and they had some time to prepare. But then he noticed something. The pony princess, still flapping above the rooftops, was gazing skyward as if she was anticipating something. There was no way she knew about the enemy reinforcements- she had no vox-link. So what was she looking at? Argan turned his gaze upwards again. At first he saw nothing else, but...something beyond the enemy reinforcements, higher in the sky. A flickering, up among the dimly swirling warp clouds. Suddenly, there was colour. Colour everywhere, skittering across his vision as he gazed at the sky. Flashes of vivid colour in sharp distinction to the blackness. Greens, blues, violets, pinkish red, flashing and dancing far overhead. Auroral displays, common to most planets with an atmosphere when solar particles interacted with the magnetic field. But these were beyond anything he had seen before, both in brilliance and scale. The entire eastern sky was alive with light, a chromatic blaze of glory in the heavens.

Argan had no idea what was happening, but he looked again at the princess. She had known. Somehow, she had known before it happened. Coincidence? Instinct? More developed senses? Or something else? Something more than mere knowledge, however unlikely it seemed given the scale of the Aurora. Maybe, just maybe, somehow, he pondered. Maybe it is her doing.




'My Lord, the coronal mass ejecta is beginning to strike the planet now.' The Auspex Lieutenant remained glued to his console screens, reporting on the progress of the vast plume of charged particles thrown off by the system's star. The band of hard radiation, x-rays and gamma rays, released by the initial solar flare had passed through the upper atmosphere with no discernible effect, either on the planet or the warp storm. But now it was the turn of the main mass of magnetised plasma. Forces of incalculable ferocity within the star had cast it off, and something had caused it to attain a velocity many times higher than that previously recorded for such an event, meaning it reached the planet very rapidly. The sensors of both the Emperor's Judgement and the Ferrus Terra were trained firmly upon the orb that hung in space, bathed in the warp storm, bathed in radiation from the solar flare, and now being bathed in the magnetic chaos unleashed by the coronal mass ejection. The particles mingled with those of the planet's upper atmosphere and the esoteric particles from beyond the physical plane that formed part of the warm storm. A normal mass ejection, a normal magnetic flux, would have little to no effect on the storm. And yet, as those sensors watched, observing closely, they would pick up changes.

'My Lord, the Ferrus Terra is hailing us,' the comms officer informed Marcos.

'Put them through,' the Lord-Admiral replied, hands clasped behind his back as the viewscreen displayed the image of the planet surrounded by the roiling storm. The fleet had closed back in after the danger had passed, and were pursuing the solar storm towards the planet at a safe distance.

'Lord-Admiral, this is Arch-Magos Darius. We are seeing...deviations in the output of the warp storm.'

'Deviations?' Marcos questioned. 'What do you mean by that?'

'Its strength is fluctuating. It appears to be...weakening,' Darius informed him. 'The indications are...'

'You said it would have no effect, Magos,' the Admiral growled. 'If that storm is weakening, might it dissipate entirely?'

'Unlikely, My Lord, at least for some time. The fluctuations are localised, in the area where the ejecta is interacting with it, specifically in Orbital Quadrant Two, Orbital Sector One-Two-Six, Orbital Sub-Sectors Two-Two-Seven through Two...'

'Enough!' Marcos spat. 'In those affected areas, is there any chance of the storm thinning enough for us to break through?'

'Standby,' Darius replied. After a few moments of calculations in whatever computer passed for his brain, the Magos replied. 'Affirmative, Admiral. If the localised weakening continues, I predict a potentially navigable route will open up in approximately five minutes eighteen seconds. A wider channel with no navigation hazards would open in nine minutes four seconds.' Marcos pounded the edge of a nearby console.

'Then we have them! Comms, alert the fleet. All ships are to prepare for combat immediately. The fleet is to close to one million miles outside the storm's perimeter, concentrating on the sectors that are in collision with the ejecta. If it provides us with a way through, then we will have the drop on the enemy.' He turned to his flag officer.

'Captain Bormann? Battle Stations.'