Princess Luna dispatched a messenger Pegasus with an urgent signal for her sister in Manehattan. The stallion arrived with tired wings, and was directed aboard the EAS Starswirl, passing the message directly to the princess herself.
She had made contact this evening with Twilight- proof that she was alive. Luna's ability to infiltrate the dreams of ponies had shown its usefulness. Twilight had not been able to inform her of the Hive's location, but the undeniable evidence that she was still among the living gave added impetus to the search. More Pegasi messengers were dispatched to the scouting airships to inform them of the fact. The contact between Luna and Twilight had been lost before she could establish anything related to where the Hive may be located, but Twilight had imparted some useful facts regarding the plans of Queen Chrysalis. No specifics, to be sure, of time or precise numbers involved, but a broad indication of how she supposedly planned to attack Canterlot. If what Twilight had said turned out to be true, however, there was no need to fear- the secret passageways could not be accessed merely by locating where they came out. The Changelings would find an impenetrable wall of stone if they tried to sneak inside the palace.
Guards were nevertheless doubled on all key points around the city. Infiltration could come at any time, from any direction, in any guise. The most terrifying thing was that, as far as any one Guardspony knew at any given moment, every other pony he could see from his post could potentially be a Changeling, and he or she might be the last one left inside the walls. The Changeling menace was insidious, and while there were usually only a few reported and confirmed cases of Changeling replacement each year, the mere possibility that it could occur to a friend or loved one, or worse, to you, was a constant companion at the back of the mind of each inhabitant of Equestria, as well as lands beyond their borders, for the menace was not confined to ponies. There had been rare but prominent raids on both the Griffons and, worryingly for international trade, the Zebras across the sea. How many Changelings had stowed away in cargo holds disguised as rats or as crewmembers, nopony could say.
At dawn the next day, the silence was disturbed by a deep drone. The guards were placed on high alert until the welcome silhouettes of the Starswirl and the Las Pegasus hove into view around the mountains to the north, turning into the valley to a great cheer from the ponies in the capital. The princess had returned, visible at the railing, mane and tail blowing stiffly in the breeze, crown perched regally upon her head, her appearance bringing another cheer from the soldiers and guardsponies below. She had taken Canterlot, and she had taken Manehattan. Wherever she went, victory was sure to follow, and now she had returned.
The two mighty airships swung around the spires and approached the landing fields that lay just outside the city. First the smaller Las Pegasus made the descent while the Starswirl kept station. Then the huge bombardment airship took its turn. At a stately pace, the giant came lower and lower, until mooring lines could be cast and held from below. The ship settled onto the flat ground under the watchful gaze of Luna, both the princess and the airship that bore her name. Lines were secured and the ramps lowered. Princess Celestia returned to her capital city.
Her first stop was to meet with her sister in the palace throne room. The meeting was private; even the most loyal guards were banished to the outside.
'Sister,' Celestia began. 'I received your message. It is indeed joyous news to learn that Twilight is alive, but it grieves me to know that she is alone and suffering at the hooves of the Changelings.'
'Indeed so, sister,' Luna replied. 'I am pleased to see you return. Things are changing, and yet things are staying the same. We know Twilight is alive, but we still do not know where she is. She was not able to impart anything to me that would aid in locating her.'
'We do not, but perhaps you can contact her again,' Celestia suggested. 'She may know something. Some fact, however small, that she does not realise could be important. In the meantime, our search teams will continue to scour the countryside for any signs of the Hive. It has to be out there somewhere.'
'It does.' Luna nodded. 'I shall attempt to contact her again tonight, but given that she is being held prisoner there is no guarantee she will be sleeping then. If I can get through, however, I will endeavour to learn all I can about her location.'
'There are other things to attend to as well,' Celestia added. 'The humans say they are redeploying their forces from Manehattan. They want to clear the valley next of all.'
'Finally,' Luna sighed. 'We have been keeping constant watch in case the enemy try to push from the valley and retake Canterlot. The humans say their lines on the valley floor are designed only for containment, not to hold against a full assault. It will be a great relief to not have to worry about that threat anymore. When are they scheduled to arrive?'
'It should take a day or two for them to arrive, and then another few days to prepare the attack,' Celestia replied. 'They wish to proceed cautiously. They suffered heavy casualties in Manehattan, and now they have a new threat from the Changelings to consider also. Their commander on the ground is a man named Senior Commissar Birbeck.'
'Is he a good man?' Luna asked.
'He is...shall we say, somewhat...askance at the idea of working with aliens, it seems,' Celestia replied. 'He seems competent enough, but he will not be friendly toward you. I believe he sees us more as a necessity than a true ally. I fear that the same can be said for much of the Imperial presence here, from the lowest soldier to their senior commanders.'
'Do you think the Lord-General and Lord-Admiral have that view?' Luna asked.
'I do not,' Celestia replied. 'They both seem willing to work alongside us through more than sheer necessity. They may be concealing their true feelings, of course, but I do not think that is the case. While I have no doubts that they do not exactly like us, they are at least tolerant enough of us to work well together. Commissar Birbeck? Perhaps not so much.'
'I understand, sister. It would be wise to be wary of him, in that case,' Luna nodded. 'It is wise, indeed, to be wary of all of these humans.'
'You are correct,' Celestia responded. 'But in the meantime, we must work with them until they have defeated this enemy of theirs. They are moving here with more work to do, and we must prepare. If all goes well, their next target will be Ponyville.'
The men of the Guard were on the move, great columns of trucks and tanks rumbling across the plains towards the mountains and the valley that was to be their objective. The mighty city of Manehattan was theirs, taken after days of bloody struggle. The casualties were many, the glories few and fleeting. But like all good Guardsmen, they were ready to fight again, wherever the Emperor and their leaders may decree. In this case, it was to be the central valley of this strange alien nation.
Some of the men had fought to take the pony capital from the Archenemy, and knew the area in a broad sense, but none had been south of Canterlot, south of the Imperial line, where men and armour held a defensive cordon across the neck of the valley to prevent an enemy breakout. It had been reported to the men, however, that friendly units had landed in the valley before. Indeed, it was the site of the initial landing shortly after their arrival in system, some weeks earlier. Those men had defended the imaginatively-named town of Ponyville- the equivalent of calling a Hive city on some Imperial world Humantown- from the forces of the Archenemy. The town had fallen, as had the rest of the valley. Soon they would have a chance to avenge the deaths of their fellows.
The plan drawn up was simple enough; a blocking force would move in at the south end of the valley, coming across from the main Imperial landing grounds to the west. A massive artillery bombardment would pound enemy positions, guided by spotters who would be posted in the city of Canterlot, up on the mountainside. Air strikes would be carried out as required on strongpoints or heavy armour. Then, the Guard would sweep into action, driving through the valley, clearing everything in their path, pushing hard to Ponyville. The city of Baltimare, some fifty miles further south, would be the ultimate goal of the push, linking up with forces from the south to complete the encirclement. A force would split off from the main thrust to capture and clear the Hoofer Dam, a towering slab of concrete with an attached hydroelectric power facility. They would be supported by an airlanding unit with dropships and Valkyrie support. Heavy artillery and siege guns would be moved into standby positions in case they were needed to crack a particularly tough enemy position.
The town of Ponyville, being the primary target of the offensive, had been studied in detail by the ground commanders. Orbital surveys had been taken, and the planning department in Canterlot had furnished, with Celestia's approval, detailed street and substreet maps of the town. Enemy defences were scanned from orbit, and strongpoints marked; they were to receive the heaviest artillery saturation before the attack was launched. It was clear that not all enemy targets would be visible from the surveys. Camo netting, cooling sinks and earth coverings could easily hide bunkers, pillboxes and firing positions from above. Nasty surprises could be lurking within the town itself, or in the field surrounding it. Celestia had once again requested that unnecessary damage to the town's buildings and infrastructure be avoided. Commissar Birbeck, after consultations with his leaders, had reluctantly agreed, though for unknown reasons he would not permit Celestia to communicate directly with Lord-General Galen or Lord-Admiral Marcos. The spotter team who had accompanied her to Griffonstone and Manehattan were also mysteriously not permitted to put her through to the commanders above. 'Operational security,' they all cited, though that had not prevented them permitting her to communicate whilst in Manehattan.
As the preparations continued, preliminary airstrikes rattled the defenders, while single guns from each artillery battery prepared firing solutions, using ranging shots to calibrate their weapons for the big bombardment that would follow. More reconnaissance was conducted. The enemy would have no doubt that an attack was coming, but such a large-scale operation would have been impossible to conduct in secret anyway. Logistics was key, as always. Vast trains of trucks and cargo haulers snaked across the plains both from east and west, heading for the staging areas to the north of the valley. After dark, the glow of a thousand fires, row upon row, marked the location of the Imperial encampment, tens of thousands of men huddled round them for warmth. By day, the bustle of tank tracks and heavy tires mingled with the whirr of whetstones sharpening bayonets, the curt, shouted orders of NCOs, and the clank of mess kits and stewpots serving food for hungry bellies. More supplies came down, fresh ammunition, power packs, grenades. Every man and woman was kitted out, preparing to fight once again.
Aboard the Emperor's Judgement, the hunt for the Changeling Hive continued unabated. Scans were continuous, seeing no indication of subterranean heat sources or likely cave entrances. Lord-Admiral Marcos was reluctant to ask the princess for assistance, but she had not seemed confident about locating the Hive either. The ship was still on lockdown by his order, and searches were being conducted, compartment by compartment, in case any of the creatures were tucked away below decks, hiding in their true forms. They would not be the first alien life forms to take up residence in the bilges and maintenance tunnels of an Imperial warship. Ork spores were sometimes brought aboard ships by landing parties, requiring only a warm spot and some organic material to grow- bilges and septic tank runoff were ideal locations for them to grow and develop. Tyranids had also been known to make it aboard, in a worrying parallel of this Changeling infestation. At least Tyranids, however, would be visible as such, and not disguised as fellow crewmen.
From a position of confidence with victory in Manehattan, the crew had been thrown into a haze of paranoia. Everyone they met on board could be an enemy in disguise; every time their back was turned, a knife could be plunged into it. Marcos had seen no choice but to admit the truth to the crew. The ship was far too vast to be fully patrolled by the armsmen alone, and any suspicious activity would have to be reported. The Changelings could be attempting to disable the ship, to destroy it, to steal some key technology, or to conduct further assassinations. Nobody knew and the princess had been unable to shed further light on their intentions.
In a vox-call with Senior Commissar Birbeck, Marcos had informed the ground commander of the nature of the threat. While it was still unknown if the Changelings were aboard any other ship in the fleet, the Emperor's judgement would have to remain quarantined until the Hive was found and destroyed. If there were no other Changelings aboard, then that would be the end of it. If there were, then there could be no risk of spreading them through the fleet or of bringing more aboard. All return leave from the surface was cancelled, and all supply parties that had been planetside at the time of the incident remained down there. Troop landers bringing fresh men to the surface were instructed not to bring anybody bcak with them who had not been on board the outward leg. The wounded would have to remain in field hospitals, rather than convalescing aboard their transport ships.
The concern was not limited to onboard ship, however. Given that the Changelings had been able to somehow kill and replace Colonel Harding on the ground, there was always the possibility that they had taken over other officers; there was not even a cast-iron guarantee that Commissar Birbeck, who the Lord-Admiral had just been talking to, was truly himself. He had given his personal codes as well as the daily code, to be sure, but something niggling at Marcos said that things might not be that simple. After all, the Midshipman and the Colonel had made it aboard the flagship using the correct codes, and there had not been the slightest indication that anything was amiss.
Master-At-Arms Kaestron had been tirelessly supervising the checking of every deck of the ship, using her overstretched armsmen to sweep the compartments from prow to stern, but finding nothing, no indication of an infestation, no Changelings, at least not in their natural form. The creatures were cunning in design, and vicious in combat. Any attack in significant numbers could overwhelm the security presence even at the most heavily guarded points of the vessel, and if the Changelings knew enough to know where, when and how to get at the Lord-General and Marcos himself, then there was every reason to believe that they knew how to cripple the ship if they wanted. The creatures were still mysterious, still mostly unknown, but what little Marcos did know about them meant that they were dangerous. Not just dangerous, but potentially worthy of the title of Xenos Horrificus, the designation given to certain alien species that posed an intolerable threat to humanity. The Tyranids were among those so listed, with their endless, ravenous hunger and vast, incalculable numbers. The potential of these Changelings to cause harm to the Imperium hardly bore thinking about.
Marcos thought he had read once or twice about some species encountered in humanity's past that exhibited somewhat similar traits, though from what he recalled they had been exterminated long ago. They were few in number, and had been hunted down ruthlessly. The princess had suggested, however, that there might be a hundred thousand or more of these Changelings; merely a tiny drop in the vast bucket of the Imperium with its trillions of humans, the numberless Orks that infested almost every planet, or the never-ending masses of Tyranids that descended upon worlds and stripped them clean of all life. But a hundred thousand invisible aliens, with potent psychic abilities, undetectable by sensors or visual inspection, indistinguishable from a real human, spreading through the invasion force and the fleet? That was an incredibly disturbing thought. Even worse, what if some of them remained aboard as the fleet departed for home port at Hydraphur, and managed to spread? If their actions were being guided by the Dark Powers, by the perfidious Eldar, by the Hive Mind of the Tyranids or by some other great intelligence, they could inflict untold damage on the Imperium.
The ship's Astropathic Choir, the group of psykers responsible for sending messages through the warp, allowing for interstellar communication, had sent a message to Segmentum Command at Hydraphur upon the fleet's arrival in the system. They had sent another after the Chaos fleet's attack, another after the warp storm's dissolution, and another once landing operations were underway. Due to the distances involved, each message would take weeks to reach Hydraphur, the replies likewise as long. Marcos had ordered the Astropaths to mention the native species, but to classify them as 'non-hostile' and 'primitive,' both technically true, whilst also glossing over the princess and the powers she had exhibited. It was likely the last message was still winging its way through the warp. Marcos pondered whether to send another, this one a warning, informing Hydraphur of the Changelings. They were a potentially potent threat, but their numbers, according to the princess, were fairly limited, and they were confined to the planet below. If they had infiltrated the ship, well, as long as they didn't leave orbit before destroying the Hive, it wouldn't matter. The death of the Queen and any other Changelings who filled the roles similar to Tyranid synapse-creatures should see the collapse of the Hive Mind, and the resultant slumping of otherwise-intelligent Changelings into mindless savage beasts who would expose themselves immediately, revealing their true nature and inviting a swift bullet or las-bolt. That was the theory, at least.
There was no guarantee the Changelings would react in a similar way to the Tyranids at the loss of their leaders. It might, in fact, be better than that- the Queen's death could result in the deaths or total incapacitation of the entire species. Or, at the other end of the spectrum, each Changeling might be capable of operating entirely independently, or the Hive Mind might still continue to function. It was possible that another Queen could be born. The Imperium knew nothing of Changeling culture and development except the brief summary given by the princess, who seemed either unwilling to say more or, perhaps, knew little of it herself.
A message send to Segmentum Command might summon a fleet of Inquisitorial ships to investigate, which would, in one fashion or another, almost certainly lead to the destruction of the planet through the dreaded last resort of Exterminatus, reserved for cleansing a world entirely of the foul taint of Chaos, an unmanageable Xenos infestation, or simply as a warning to others. The Inquisition was not known for their subtlety when it came to defending the Imperium. Many times in history, the slightest possibility of such contamination had been enough to signal the death of billions. Not billions of aliens, but billions of humans, sometimes as an unhappy but necessary side effect, sometimes to spare them the worse horrors that might lay in store for them if they were to be allowed to live.
Marcos had made a promise to the Princess that the fleet would leave once the Archenemy was defeated. A promise to a Xenos was not worth the data-slate it might be written on, he knew, but for some reason, he felt that reneging on his word was not the right thing to do. Sending an alert might summon the Inquisition or the Astartes, both of whom, if they deemed the Changelings to be a sufficient threat, would not hesitate to glass the entire planet, ponies and all. Depending on Celestia's awareness and true abilities, that course of action could lead to the deaths of her entire species, or to the destruction of a whole Imperial fleet, neither of which Marcos wanted to be responsible for. He had already led enough men and women to their deaths across this far-flung reach of the galaxy, and at the end of their journey they had encountered a peaceful race with an enigmatic leader who just wanted to be left alone. That was what he had promised, and he knew deep down that was what he had to do.
There would be no Astropathic message to Hydraphur, not unless the situation got out of hand. The Changelings were a manageable threat, he was certain. They had to be. They had not yet managed to defeat or overthrow the ponies, though how much of that was down to the Princess, he did not know. As long as they could find the Hive and kill the Queen, everything would be alright. There would be no need for panic, no need for overreaction. The ponies, no threat to the Imperium, could be spared, could live out their lives unmolested, just as he had promised. Whenever he thought of the Princess, he felt the same calmness, the same peacefulness as he did when in her presence on the bridge. He did not know why, and naturally at first he feared some Daemonic incursion into his mind, or perhaps a deliberate attempt at bafflement and persuasion by the Princess. But the longer he had spoken with her, the more he had seen of her goodness, her character, and the subtle calming effect she had on others, knowingly or not. Perhaps, like her intrusion upon the warp from the outside, it was merely a passive effect of which she was not truly cognizant. Or perhaps it was a resource she deliberately cultivated and carefully hoarded, to manipulate those around her, to bend them to her will. There was still so much that remained unknown about this world.
'My Lord!' The vox-link in the Admiral's quarters buzzed. 'Captain Bormann requests your presence on the bridge.'
Marcos had been sat at his desk, lost in his own thoughts when he had been planning to write his daily report. He pressed the vox button to reply. 'On my way.' A swig from his Amasec flask, a quick smoothing down of his uniform, and he set off for the bridge. Armsmen saluted punctiliously as he passed by. He returned their gestures and stepped onto the bridge elevator, taking the short ride up a few decks to the nerve centre of the ship.
As ever, the bridge was bustling, a gentle hum of conversation and whirring cogitators forming a background. Everything was the same as always, save for the absence of Lord-General Galen. His deputy, General Jahn, an old and wizened campaigner with a pugilist's nose and an unnecessary and incongruous monocle, had replaced him at the holo-table, overseeing preparations for the assault on the valley.
Flag-Captain Bormann stood nearby, turning to greet his Admiral. 'My Lord, I have news from the Auspex crews,' he spoke. 'They believe they might have located something.'