Twilight felt a lot better. Several days of rest and good food had, as the palace doctor assured her it would, given her back her strength and vitality. Her aches and pains had eased, and she felt almost back to normal, in body if not necessarily in mind. Her friends had visited her many times, as a group and individually, and they had proven to be a great source of strength, especially Applejack, who had kept the group going in Twilight's absence. Despite her magical prowess and Celestia's patronage, Twilight had often felt that Applejack was the real lynchpin of the Elements. She didn't need fancy magic to display her simple qualities of honesty, bravery, and leadership. She did that every day, in everything she tried to do for her friends and for the group as a whole, because it was the right thing to do, and because she always wanted to do the right thing.
Her family had visited, too, especially her brother. He understood more than most the burden she carried, and Twilight greatly appreciated him spending time with her. He had found himself busy, as the commander of the Royal Guard, dealing with the attempted investigation into the arson that had led to the destruction of the armoury housed in the old Theatre Royale, but had made sure to take time out of his schedule to visit Twilight several times a day, no matter what or who else commanded his attention. Shining Armour had always been her shoulder to cry on, or the eager ear to listen to her worries and fears, and, though they were both grown and with concerns and problems of their own, that had not changed. Shining was responsible for the well being of the thousands of ponies under his command, but that did not mean he had abdicated any of his responsibility to his little sister. She appreciated his visits more than she could express; she had never been good with those kinds of words.
Despite all of that, it was the visits of Princess Celestia which Twilight was most glad of. Like her brother, the princess had other things demanding her attention, namely the fighting of a war for the very future of Equestria, but she still managed to find time to visit her dear student. She was with her again, early in the morning, with her sun continuing to rise through the sky. The humans, she had informed Twilight, had launched their attack on Baltimare, the next step on the reconquest of Equestria.
'But princess...aren't the humans going to get resentful that we are using them to take back our cities? That they are throwing their lives away for us?' Twilight asked, as the two of them stood on the palace balcony, gazing out across the valley below.
'It is certainly possible that individuals within their ranks may well feel that way,' Celestia replied, her mane flowing in the non-existent breeze as it always did. 'As for their leadership, I am not so sure. I cannot pin down exactly how they feel about using their own troops and equipment for duty which many may see as our sole responsibility. Defending our homes ultimately falls upon our shoulders. But we are defending our homes from their sworn enemy, who they may well have brought here inadvertently. Although, the Lord-Admiral feels differently about that.'
'What do you mean?' Twilight cocked her head.
'The Lord-Admiral says that it is unlikely that their Archenemy followed them here directly. Rather, he said it seemed they were attracted to the planet by something already upon it,' Celestia explained. 'I surmise that if that is indeed the case, then they either detected myself and my sister, or the Elements, which drew their attention to us. That would make the arrival of these Imperials at the same time rather a fortuitous coincidence.'
'Do you believe it is a coincidence, princess?' Twilight asked. 'That they both arrived here at the same time, but for unrelated reasons?'
'I do not,' Celestia stated simply. 'Everything happens for a reason. The possibility that two interstellar societies discovered our planet for the first time at almost exactly the same moment is almost infinitesimally small. I believe that either the Chaos forces were following the Imperial ships without their knowledge, or that they did indeed detect something here worth investigating. Other than magic, I cannot imagine what that could be.'
Twilight nodded slowly. Ever since she spotted the first human ship in orbit, not knowing what it really was, she had felt an uneasy sensation at the back of her mind that something wasn't right. Events over the past months had proven her entirely correct to have such a fear. 'And...if the Imperium defeats their enemy here, what will they do then? Will they turn their attentions to us?'
'That, I am unsure of also,' Celestia replied frankly. 'The Lord-Admiral, and the Lord-General, have both given me their personal assurances that their fleet will depart once their enemy is defeated, and never return. How convinced I am of that fact, alas, is another uncertainty. We do not know their culture beyond what we know of them militarily. Honour and truth may in reality mean nothing to them. They may freely lie in order to achieve their goals.'
'I suppose it's safest to assume that is the case?' Twilight asked, to which the princess nodded.
'Indeed. It is sad to say, but yes. Unless one knows for absolute certain to the contrary, then in diplomacy, the best practice is to assume that the other side is lying at all times. That is something I would have introduced you to gently, perhaps with a trade mission from the Griffon Kingdom...notorious hard bargainers who will do anything to shave a little off the price of whatever it is they want to buy, but mysteriously weld additional costs to whatever it is they want to sell.' Celestia chuckled softly. 'It seems that fate had other ideas, however.'
'If they turn on us...' Twilight paused. 'If they turn on us, can...can we survive, princess?' she asked.
'Yes,' Celestia replied with a single word and an assured nod. 'Yes, we can survive. I will not let any species, no matter how powerful they may be, to wipe us out. That goes not just for ponykind, but for every sapient race on this planet. You can be assured that I will do everything in my power to protect you, Twilight. You, your family, your friends, and every other pony, every Griffon, every Zebra. Our differences and squabbles are as nothing when faced with a threat such as this.'
'What about the Changelings?' Twilight asked with a frown. 'Will you protect them, too?'
'No,' Celestia replied, her answers remaining simple and direct. 'The humans are already aware of the threat they pose. They are treating the Changelings as an enemy, as are we. They have crossed too many lines to even consider any other course of action. I...'
The princess was interrupted by a sudden, incandescent double-flash from the distant horizon. It was the product of a mere moment in time, but the after-effects lingered in Twilight's eyes, stars dancing and a brief burning sensation making her gasp and turn away.
Celestia stood firm beside her, but when Twilight looked up and gazed upon her, her face was grim. 'W-what was that?' Twilight asked tremulously.
'I do not know,' Celestia replied. 'But I suspect the humans can tell us. I believe it would be best if you were to return to and remain in your room for the time being, Twilight.' With an equally sudden flash of light, the princess was gone, leaving Twilight blinking away the after effects of the flash. She gazed out to the south fearfully. Baltimare was too far away to be visible, but that must be where the flash had originated. The coincidence was surely too great for it to have come from anywhere else, but what could it have been? It was broad daylight over Canterlot, and yet the flash had been bright enough to half blind her. Twilight did not know, but she did as Celestia said, returning to her room, though still peering out of the window. She had a feeling something bad had happened. Surely the flash could not have signalled anything good.
Captain Mayner opened his turret hatch with a clang, and began to clamber out of the vehicle. The bridge was theirs, both ends of it, and the span was clear, the infantry having gone up and dealt with the last few enemy survivors who had holed up in the girders. Several had fallen into the river below when they were shot, and were swiftly lost in the current downstream. As part of a tradition common across most Imperial Guard units, Mayner, as commander of the detachment which had captured the northern end of the bridge, would meet up with the commander of Poison Alpha, the unit from the 1st Battalion, 15th Rammeshi Armoured Regiment that had captured the southern approaches.
For maximum symbolism, they would meet in the middle of the bridge, exchange salutes, pleasantries and Regimental colours, and confirm the linkup of the two forces, from the north and south. It was mostly propaganda, with vid-picts of such meetings and linkups always doing the rounds on the news feeds back home on Imperial worlds, showcasing yet another triumph of the Imperial Guard over the foul forces of Chaos and Xenos alike. This time, however, there were no vid-recorders around, and nobody from the propaganda department to take notes on the event for posterity. It was not important enough for that, merely another backwater city on this strange alien planet that, clearly, nobody in the Imperium even knew about until the Crusade's arrival some weeks ago. There was no record of this place on the official charts, though they could now be updated with the fresh information the fleet had gathered, assuming, of course, that was what the Lord-Admiral had in mind.
Such thoughts were well above Mayner's pay grade, and he was focused on the task at hand. Leaving Big Beautiful Doll in the capable hands of his crew, parked at the end of the span, he made his way on foot out over the water. The bridge was long, and already engineers from the follow-on mechanised infantry were setting about clearing it for vehicular traffic. The train cars and locomotives that had been used to block the roadway would have to be moved, and, with no heavy engineering equipment on hand, they would have to improvise, as the driver of the lead tank had done with his dozer blade. A Leman Russ had more than enough traction to either push or pull, via towing chain, the rail cars out of the way, off the side of the bridge and into the river if need be. Keeping the bridge clear was vital for the flow of reinforcements from the southern flank beyond the crossing.
As Mayner headed out along the bridge, past the bodies of the fallen Chaos infantry, he could see another figure in tankers' garb approaching from the other end. A cheerful fellow with his cap worn at a jaunty angle, a cigar poking from his mouth; not exactly regulation, but tank crews were among those branches of the Guard generally afforded a lot more leeway in how they operated and exactly how closely they stuck to the letter of the law. The figure threw a quick salute and then stuck out his hand.
After returning the salute, Mayner took it and shook it. 'Captain Mayner, 1st Company, 1st Battalion, Stourmont 2nd Armoured.'
'Major El-Granish, 1st Battalion, Rammeshi 15th Armoured,' the other tanker replied, shaking his hand strongly. 'What a fine bridge you have here, Captain.' El-Granish gave a wry chuckle. 'A little dirty, perhaps, but I'm sure we can sort that out easily enough.'
Mayner nodded and smiled. 'Indeed so, sir. Whatever else you can say about these horse aliens, they do make some fine civil engineering projects.'
'Not something I ever expected to hear someone say,' the Major replied with another chuckle. 'We'd better get to work clearing the roadway, Captain. I've got an entire Regiment back there eager to cross.' He jerked his thumb in the direction of the southern bank of the river, where tanks could indeed be seen lining up in anticipation of getting across and joining the attack on the city.
'Yes, sir. We already have engineers getting to work,' Mayner assured him. 'We're about to start using our tanks to shift the rail cars and clear the roadway.'
'Excellent.' El-Granish nodded, taking a puff of his cigar. 'I expect we'll be in the city before noon. At this rate it'll be ours before the end of the...'
He was cut short by a sudden flash. Though it came from behind Mayner, it still made him reflexively shut his eyes as a protective measure. Major El-Granish staggered back, throwing a hand up across his face as an immense heat suddenly washed over the both of them. Mayner had started to turn, but the heat made him change his mind. Instead he took a few steps forward, trying to get away from the source of sudden heat behind him. One of the tanks must have exploded. Had it been hit by enemy fire? Had they somehow missed a Chaos trooper secreted somewhere? Were there demolition charges that the initial sweeps had missed? It couldn't be, there was no sound, no explosion.
The men around them on the bridge were gasping, covering their eyes, turning away. The light from the flash had only lasted a moment, and the heat a few seconds longer, but it was enough to burn exposed skin. Several men dropped to the floor in pain. Mayner, having put on his service jacket with its high collar and hat to greet the Major, was spared injury. With the heat dissipating, he turned to find the source.
The city of Baltimare was some eight miles to the north, and where its spires had been visible in the morning light, they were now invisible. The city now lay beneath a great, rapidly rising cloud of dust and smoke, being pulled by the air currents and winds into a characteristic mushroom shape.
'What the hell was that?' El-Granish growled, wincing and rubbing his eyes, half blind.
'An explosion!' Mayner replied quickly. 'In the city. Get back to your tank, go, go!' he urged, turning and running for Big Beautiful Doll as the Major headed back across the bridge. He had farther to go than Mayner, and even that was too far. Looking up ahead, beyond the bridge approach, Mayner could see something moving across the grassland, at an incredible speed. It was the blast wave from the explosion, and it was coming right for him, right for the bridge. There was no time to get back to his tank. Mayner threw himself to the bridge deck and covered his ears with his hands, opening his mouth to help equalise the pressure.
Within a few seconds, it was upon him, a great roar like a hurricane. The bridge shook violently and Mayner could feel the wind, tearing at his clothing, howling. If he had still been on his feet, he would have been bowled over, knocked to the ground by the rapid passage of air. Around him, other guardsmen were suffering just such a thing, tumbling to the floor. Those men assigned to clear and guard the superstructure of the bridge high above the roadway were in trouble. Many were knocked from their insecure perches and sent spiraling to their deaths in the river or on the roadway below. One man slammed into the bridge deck close to Mayner, and a spray of warm blood suddenly spattered against him. The bridge swayed and heaved, groaning and creaking under the sudden assault of pressure. The ponies, however, built their bridges well, and it held.
Once the blast wave had passed, Mayner got to his feet and resumed his run back to his tank. The mushroom cloud above the city was climbing higher and higher into the sky, towering over Baltimare like a malignant version of a flower opening after a spring rain, a vast dirty grey stain against the blue sky. The clouds above the city had evaporated, like ice melting away under the action of a blowtorch.
Big Beautiful Doll's turret had been rotated to face the city, presumably in an attempt by the crew to figure out what was going on. Mayner leaped up onto the hull and then up to the turret. The hatch was still open, and he slipped down into the interior, slamming the hatch shut behind him. Janssen and Cheyne looked up at him as he dropped down.
'Seal the tank!' he ordered. 'Pressurise the chemical protection system.'
'What's going on?' Janssen asked. 'What was that blast?'
'Baltimare,' Mayner replied. 'Something's gone badly wrong with this operation.' The crew sealed all hatches, which had been open, the tank almost sitting at a casual posture before the sudden flash and explosion. The bridge was cleared, there were friendly troops all around; no danger, or so it had seemed. In a heartbeat things had changed drastically. The chemical protection system, fitted to every Leman Russ, was designed to pressurise the interior, keeping the air inside fresh. Air from the exterior was passed through filters when the system was in operation to keep it clean of contamination; dust and smoke, chemicals, war gases, biological contaminants, Xenos poisons and radioactive particles. Any damage to the tank could render the system ineffective, either by knocking it out of action or by opening up some unexpected hole in the hull which might reduce or eliminate the pressurisation effect. Fortunately, Big Beautiful Doll was in full working order.
Mayner grabbed the vox handset. Nothing was coming over the net, so he tried speaking. 'Cobalt Alpha One Actual to any unit on this net, respond, over.' A squealing and hissing greeted him. Something was interfering with the vox, causing massive static. A lot of things could cause it; the terrain, the weather, ionizing radiation, the unknown particle detected on the planet. It was entirely possible that it could be a combination of several factors, but Mayner had his suspicions. He repeated his call, but still got no reply.
His thermoscope, when he peered through it, was spotty, fluctuating, evidently affected either by the blast or by whatever was causing the interference on the vox net. With the turret aimed at the city, he got a clear view across the plains. Switching to maximum zoom didn't help much; there was too much dust, dirt and smoke in the air to be able to distinguish anything from so far away. The city was eight miles distant, far enough to make accurate observations tricky at the best of times, even through his scope, which was not designed to view things at such ranges. What little he could see did not bode well. Buildings, some of the taller ones that were not obscured by the smoke plume, were broken, shattered, missing their top floors. Mayner felt a sudden rush of anxiety. This was a new development, a large scale change to the order of things. An explosion of such a magnitude had only two likely causes; psychic, or atomic. Neither was good, and he was not quite sure which would be worse.
Lord-Admiral Marcos had been keeping a watchful eye on the progress of the assault forces. General Jahn, now supreme commander of all Guard units and operations, stood resolutely at the holo-map, sending orders and receiving signals and reports from the men and women down below. It was his first operation in sole command, but Jahn was not exactly a novice. In the Emperor's service for some sixty years, he had been the loyal and seatfast deputy to Lord-General Galen during the entirety of the Western Fringe Crusade, ably aiding in the conquest of dozens of worlds and overseeing the destruction of enemy armies most efficiently. The fact that Imperial casualties during the Crusade had been as low as they had, could be put in no small part down to Jahn's mastery of logistics, supply and support. Where Galen excelled in the operational and offensive aspects of warfare, Jahn had been the driving force behind the rest of the operations, those unseen and often unheralded accomplishments that, without which, no attack or defence could ever hope to succeed. Together, they had swept the sector clean of enemies, Chaos, Ork and Eldar alike.
Now, with Galen dead at the hands, or rather hooves, of a Changeling assassin disguised as a loyal Imperial officer, the weight he had borne now fell upon the shoulders of General Jahn, who was handling the situation and the responsibility with the dignity and skill that one would expect from a man of his calibre and experience. He was aided by the fact that the entire operation to capture Baltimare had been going smoothly, too smoothly. The city had been surrounded with ease, the bridge to the south had been captured with a minimum of fuss or resistance. Even the push into the urban area itself had been proving a simple matter. There was minor resistance, yes, but it was just that; minor. Nowhere across the perimeter were units being held up for more than a few minutes at any given obstacle. It was almost as if the enemy wanted them to break through.
With so little resistance contrasting oddly with the estimations drawn up as a result of the orbital scans regarding enemy presence, alarm bells had been ringing for both General Jahn and Lord-Admiral Marcos. Were their forces being lured into another trap, another Daemonic outbreak, as they had been in Manehattan? There was no dam or anything similar that could be used for such a ploy, to catch them unawares, but Daemons could spring from the ether seemingly at will, or at the very least as a result of some kind of sacrifice. or other foul, blasphemous ritual carried out by the supporters of Chaos. This could well be another instance of just such a trick. Or perhaps it was a simple matter of the enemy conserving their strength, preferring to fight in the urban maze of the inner city and the main business district, where the high buildings, back alleys and sewers could be used to their advantage? They had had time in occupation to learn the city far better than their Imperial adversaries, after all.
But something did not sit right, either with Jahn or with Marcos. Neither of them could put a finger on why, exactly, but nevertheless they both felt the same hesitance and doubt. This was a trap. It had to be. The enemy could not have simply melted away, leaving only a token force to hold a wafer-thin perimeter. There was no way they could have escaped the city, which meant they were still there, waiting. Though the pony princess had requested collateral damage be kept to a minimum, as she always did, Marcos was inclined to ignore her for once, at least in part, and order a limited bombardment of the city centre to dispel any ambush attempt. That would necessitate a withdrawal of Imperial forces, and that was what was ordered. Units began to retreat to the edge of the city as the Lord-Admiral mulled over his options.
But before anything more could be done, a shout came from the Auspex operators. 'My Lord! Something has happened...Baltimare!'
Marcos hurried to the officer who had called out. He continued his report. 'Something...a great flash, My Lord, a double flash, over the city...vid-scans are suffering heavy interference, My Lord.'
Another officer called across the bridge. 'My Lord, we are getting reports from units on the ground of a major explosion in Baltimare.'
'An explosion?' Marcos growled, his suspicions proving to be correct. 'What kind of explosion? What happened?'
'Unknown at this time, My Lord,' came the reply. 'But the sensors registered a double-flash.' Marcos frowned. The Auspex operator confirmed his suspicions, as if they needed confirming. 'The double flash is characteristic of the use of atomic weaponry.'
'Indeed it is,' Marcos growled. 'So it appears we have been lured in after all.'