'Damn it all!' Lord-Admiral Marcos swore, pounding his fist on the edge of the command lectern where he stood on the bridge of the Emperor's Judgement. 'Damn that foul creature! Hit it again!' he ordered. The Daemon still lived, according to the report from the surface, and not just one report. More were coming in as the smoke cleared and other spotter teams gained sight of the creature. A heavy barrage of orbital artillery had not been enough to kill it, so what would it take? Would a second attack be sufficient? Perhaps it had been weakened, at least, by the fury unleashed upon it from the skies. At the very minimum, the attack had done away with several thousand traitor infantry, a tiny consolation, though the real prize remained the Daemon. Its death or banishment was vital to any concept of actually securing the planet and clearing it of the minions of the Dark Gods.
'My Lord, should I order the ground forces to make a stand?' General Jahn asked from across the bridge at the holo-map. 'We can hit it hard from defensible positions.'
'With all due respect, General, not as hard as my ships can hit it,' Marcos replied, 'and that did nothing to stop it. If they stay where they are then your men will likely die in droves. Order them to fall back, General, at least another five miles. With any luck that thing will stop its pursuit and return to the city. It clearly has some kind of plan, otherwise it would not have shown up where it did or when it did.'
'But My Lord...' Jahn began to protest. 'If we retreat now, the enemy will only have a chance to dig in deeper, tighten their grip on the city. We may never get it back.'
'Things are different now, General,' Marcos replied, striding over to the holo-map to stand beside Jahn. 'The city is no longer our primary concern. All we must focus on is destroying that Daemon, or banishing it back to whence it came, at the very least. If we cannot remove it, then we cannot capture the city anyway.'
'I understand that things have changed, My Lord. But the men are now cowards,' Jahn responded. 'They will not like being ordered to retreat again.'
'Would they like being ordered to stand and die fighting a foe they cannot possibly hope to defeat?' Marcos pointed out. 'Because that is what will happen, General. You know it as well as I do.' Jahn did, and he conceded.
'Very well, My Lord. I shall order all forces to fall back to a twenty-mile line,' he replied with a nod. 'But what if the creature continues to pursue?'
'Then we hit it again from orbit and hope it changes its mind,' Marcos answered. 'Failing that, there is one other possible option.'
'What is that, My Lord?' Jahn questioned, adjusting his monocle.
'The Princess,' Marcos replied simply. 'We have seen her demonstrate considerable psychic prowess. I think it is fairly safe to say that she is the most powerful psychic being on this planet other than that Daemonic bastard, and if our physical weapons fail, then we must turn to the weapons of the mind. We do not have any psykers of our own, at least none who can wield their powers offensively. Therefore we must enlist her aid. I have already spoken to her and she offered her assistance, and I would say it is time we call upon it.'
'But My Lord...how can a Xenos be trusted to fight this menace for us?' Jahn replied with a frown, a reasonable reservation given the Imperium's exposure to aliens throughout its history. Even the ones who could be temporarily relied upon for support, such as the Eldar or, occasionally, the Tau, would always seek to stab humanity in the back at the first available opportunity.
'Because she will be fighting for her own land,' Marcos explained. 'She wants that city back under her control. She needs the manufactories for the war effort and she seems determined that the city not be destroyed if at all possible. A threat that might lead us to have to destroy the city is not one she would take lightly, whether she trusts us or not, and regardless of if we trust her, either.'
'Yes, My Lord, but...this threat is one which we need to ensure is destroyed, at whatever cost,' Jahn pointed out. 'If that means we sacrifice some of our troops in the process, then is that not a price worth paying?'
'Yes, General, it would be. But throwing our men against this Daemon is simply sending men to their deaths for no good reason. They would not stand a chance against it, you know that as well as I do,' Marcos replied. 'We lack the psykers we need. We have no Astartes with us, no members of His holy Inquisition. Our technology has proven inadequate. What else can we do but ask the Princess for aid? She has said she would be willing to provide it. It is either that or abandon the city entirely. Or worse, abandon the planet, and I will not abandon this place to the Archenemy!'
'But My Lord, what is so special about this place? Why not just...let the enemy have it?' Jahn asked, a pointed question which Marcos found himself unable to answer, at least in a way which would satisfy the General's curiosity as to his decision making.
'Because...' he began, before a brief pause. 'Because the Imperium of Man does not simply let the enemy have anything. We fight them at every turn, on every planet in the galaxy, because this is our galaxy, not theirs. The Milky Way is the cradle of mankind, and it belongs to us! If we can strike bargains with a few Xenos species here and there, as we have in the past, then it is worth it in order to defeat our true nemesis.'
Jahn thought for a moment before replying. 'As you say, My Lord. The Archenemy must be defeated at any cost. But I must caution restraint where it comes to dealing with this princess, no matter how helpful she may seem to be. If she is so powerful psychically, how are we to be sure that she has not been corrupted by Chaos?'
'I suppose we cannot be absolutely certain. But she has given no indication of that whatsoever. In fact, given that the Navigators reported that she has no presence actually within the warp, it might be possible that she cannot be corrupted at all,' Marcos responded. 'But you are correct to urge caution, and we shall continue to be cautious. The Ferrus Terra is monitoring all readings coming from the planet. I am sure they will be continuing their observation of the Princess as well. If there is any indication of Chaos influence over her, they will report to me immediately on their findings. I do not think they will find any, however. I do not believe she is acting maliciously. I believe she is merely doing what she thinks is in the best interests of her species, which is all you can expect of any leader.'
'Yes, My Lord. In that, you are correct.' Jahn nodded. 'I will defer to your judgment in these matters of diplomacy, in which I am little versed. I just hope that she is not somehow manipulating us all.'
'I doubt that very much, General,' Marcos replied. 'But even if that were the case, what harm could there be in having her fight this creature? If she bests it, then a great threat is removed, and if she does not, then it will tell us that we must find some other solution.'
'What other solution could there be, My Lord?' Jahn questioned. 'Is the princess not already the backup plan only because we have no other?'
'For the moment, yes,' Marcos admitted. 'But we shall think and we shall scheme and we shall plan. This Daemon is not the only one capable of doing such things. We shall find an alternative. There is always a way, General. There is always a way.'
Another clear order had been given, going out across the vox nets. All units were to fall back to a twenty mile perimeter, well clear of the city and of the Daemon who had survived everything that could be thrown at it so far. For many units, that was simply a matter of continuing where they had left off, turning their vehicles back around and heading north across the grassland. But for the spotter teams who had been deployed ahead of the main force to observe the results of the orbital strike, things were not to simple. They had no transport directly assigned to them, but rather would have to make it back to the main line where vehicles from their companies would be waiting. It had been feared that giving vehicles to the teams would attract the attention of the Daemon and thus undermine their purpose as covert spotters.
There was plenty of open ground to cover for Lieutenant Miana and Sergeant Ransome. They were lugging their bulky vox set and thermoscope back from the bushes which had been their concealment. There was still a terrifyingly long way to run, given what was looming behind them. The Daemon was still advancing, still coming toward them, not deterred by the bombardment. It seemed to be totally unscathed, to judge by what Miana could see through her thermoscope, although she did not need any magnification or enhancement now to see the beast clearly.
It was a hideous sight, even at the distance they were, a good mile away, but it was clearly visible to them as it hovered, floating above the ground, propelled by the power of its own mind and the bizarre properties of the warp which it usually called home. At the best of times it would be a deeply unnerving sight, but out there, alone, far in advance of the main Imperial line, it was overwhelmingly petrifying to see the Daemon continue its relentless forward progress. Perhaps at some point it would stop, but it did not seem eager to do so at the moment, and each second brought it closer. It could float faster than the two of them could hope to run.
The vehicle was visible up ahead, a Salamander scout car assigned to their company, sitting idle among a thicket of trees in a probably futile attempt to camouflage it against the sight of the Daemon. No doubt it could see in ways that were totally alien to mankind, rendering it pointless. It offered the spotters salvation, if only they could reach it in time. The Daemon was still closing in. Whether it cared about them, two tiny targets, mere individual humans, could only be guessed at.
The Salamander was waiting for them, the vehicle commander visible peering over the coaming of the crew compartment, making rapid motions with his arm, urging them to get a move on. The open grassland seemed to stretch out to infinirt in front of Lieutenant Miana as her legs worked tirelessly to get her and her thermoscope to the Salamander before the crew decided they couldn't wait around any longer. She dared not risk any more glances over her shoulder for fear that she would be paralysed into immobility by the sight of her pursuer.
Mercifully, the Salamander crew decided to stay long enough for the spotter team to reach them, and she swung her thermoscope up into the crew compartment before climbing up herself, offering a hand to Sergeant Ransome who followed her aboard.
'Driver, go, go, go!' the commander ordered, and the Salamander's powerful engine roared into action. The Salamander, relatively nimble for an armoured vehicle of such size, swung around and rapidly made tracks to the north, away from the horror that was following on behind them. Miana slumped down in the bottom of the vehicle. They were not safe, not by a long shot, but at least she could rest as the vehicle bounced over the uneven terrain. Her legs wouldn't need to carry her away any further; technology would see to the rest. Just as technology had tried to see to the destruction of the Daemon.
And just like that technology, this technology failed as well.
The Daemon's attention was drawn to the Salamander by the sudden rapid movement, even if it hadn't spotted the vehicle before. It had no need to zoom forward and strike down at them. A mere gesture with its staff was enough, a dip of the crooked device, and a rapid bolt of energy leaped out and struck the Salamander on its right side. Broken track links went flying as shrapnel cut through the air, taking the head off of the vehicle's commander, his decapitated body falling in a heap into the foot well of the crew compartment, just behind the driver, who found himself suddenly useless as the vehicle was not responding to his control inputs. The right track had been shredded, rollers and sprocket wheels bouncing free across the grass as the Salamander slowed right up and came to a halt.
Miana grabbed her lasgun and held onto it tightly, for what it was worth. There was absolutely no chance of her pitiful weapon inflicting any damage on the Daemon, but it was a comfort just to feel it in her grasp. That was something that the basic training given to all Guardsmen and women stressed; the relationship between the soldier and their weapon. It was to be more than a weapon, it was to be a companion, a lifeline, a friend, an extension of the body. Without your lasgun, you were nothing, so they were told. You could not fight effectively without one.
Of course, you could not fight most enemies effectively even with one. The lasgun was a standard issue weapon because it was cheap, easy to mass produce, and easy to train all but the dumbest conscript to use with good effect. It was accurate, relatively powerful, and had a large ammunition supply thanks to the rechargeable power packs that fitted into the weapon. However, compared to many of the more advanced weapons wielded both by the Imperium and its enemies, the lasgun paled into insignificance, being little more than a glorified flashlight despite its ability to blow limbs clean off of bodies and punch holes in brick walls and stone. Against a foe such as the Daemon, for instance, the lasgun was about as effective as throwing rocks at it.
'Get out, get out!' the Salamander's driver shouted. 'We're immobilised! Run!' He scrambled out from the driver's seat and climbed up to jump over the side. Miana stood in a half panic. They had been making good progress, getting clear, and now, just like that, they were stuck, broken down, the Salamander incapable of movement. For a moment, so was she. There was no way they could get away on foot. The Daemon was closer now than it had been when they reached the Salamander which was supposed to save them and whisk them away.
But they had to try, because it was the only option. The Salamander would have taken them to link up with the rest of the Imperial units that were in retreat, but on foot, they simply would not be able to catch up to the highly mechanised force. They would be left behind, at best, to fend for themselves until they could walk the ten or so miles to the new rally point. At worst, they would be abandoned to the Daemon, and that seemed the most likely outcome now, with no transport and the beast closing in from behind.
Miana jumped down from the crew compartment with her lasgun, and began to run. Sergeant Ransome was with her, following the driver across the fields in their headlong flight as they ran for their lives. Even without looking back, they could feel the gaze of death upon them, feel its presence, involuntarily, in their minds, probing, searching for weakness. It did not have to search very deeply. Terror, hate, fear, all were close to the surface, forefront in the minds of those the Daemon pursued. Though to them it seemed as if the creature was deliberately targeting them, in truth they were little more then a sideshow, a distraction from its true, inscrutable purposes. They just happened to be in the way, and since they were in the way, why not do away with them entirely, remove a small potential obstacle for the future?
Why not indeed. The Daemon spared but a moment's half-thought to such a course of action. There was no reason not to kill them. But why kill them quickly? Why kill them painlessly? Why not give them a particularly troublesome and unusual death? Yes, that would be what it would do. It had waited a long time to be brought back to this plane, and once it had arrived, it had spent even longer, albeit a fairly brief period, on this planet's moon, hidden away, away from scrutiny, away from suspicion, waiting for this moment to descend upon the servants of the Corpse God and their strange alien allies. After such waiting, what was a brief delay to deal with a few stragglers?
It turned its attentions fully to the trio of small figures running before it, fleeing for their lives in a futile attempt to escape or outrun the judgement of Tzeentch, the Architect of Fate. This was, the Daemon reminded itself, all pre-ordained by the Changer of Ways. It was always going to be the case that it paused to kill these pathetic humans. It had always been their destiny to die here, and its destiny to kill them. That was something to rejoice over. It was all coming true, because there could be no other outcome.
A small twitch of its hand was all that was needed, and the first of the three figured suddenly collapsed, writhing in untold agony as the warp flooded into his mind, swirling deep within his psyche, unbidden images and hideous fantasies playing out in his brain, overloading his senses and quickly driving him mad with direct exposure to the warp and all of its denizens, now able to prey and feed upon his psche.
There were two more figures to deal with, one male and one female. A flash at the tip of its staff, and the Daemon sent a pulse of energy, like a disc, which cut across the landscape and sliced the female in half at the waist. both pieces of her body tumbling in different directions. Not enough to kill her immediately, but leaving her with no chance of survival. There was one final target for the Daemon, and a slight movement of the finger produced another outburst of energy, and the final survivor's eyes both popped like balloons. He screamed audibly and fell to his knees, scrabbling around blindly and aimlessly, unable to see anything any more. The Daemon watched for a few moments, pleased with the seemingly random and chaotic nature of the man's flailing movements, though knowing, of course, that it all followed a plan. It made another small movement with its finger, and this time it was the man's head which popped.
The Daemon was pleased enough. With that brief sideshow out of the way, it could turn its attention to furthering the plans of Lord Tzeentch, for that was why it was here. That was why a million or more souls, knowingly or unknowingly, had been sacrificed to summon it. It served Lord Tzeentch, and his will would be done.
Princess Celestia had received the vox call from Lord-Admiral Marcos with mixed feelings. On the one hoof, she had been expecting and hoping for some kind of update regarding the attack on Fillydelphia- she had declined the offer to attend as she had at Manehattan due to the continued contamination of Canterlot and the various other problems facing her and her military. On the other hoof, however, it had not been the call she had been hoping to hear. No sweeping advance, to simple operation, no city returned to her control. But it did, at least, explain what the presence was that she had suddenly felt.
No, that wasn't strictly true. She had felt it at the back of her mind long before, right since the arrival of the first humans in orbit around the planet. It seemed a lifetime ago now, though it was a matter of weeks prior to the present day. Something had been lurking, almost whispering, in some distant corner of her brain, a malevolent presence, something that could not quite be explained. She had spoken to Luna about it, and her sister had reported the same sensations. Nothing untoward had been reported by any other ponies, however- none of the palace staff, guards or visitors had experienced similar symptoms of unknown origin. After the humans arrived, it had been confirmed that both Princess Cadence and Twilight Sparkle had felt similar sensations, though they had been in different places. That, combined with the palace staff's apparent ignorance, meant that the cause could not have been some local issue, perhaps the presence of a magical artifact within Canterlot, or a Changeling infiltration. Whatever the cause was, it had to be coming from somewhere else, somewhere that allowed it to affect all of Equestria.
Except it did not affect all of Equestria. It seemed, rather specifically, to target alicorns, as well as Twilight, one of the most powerful magical prodigies ever to be seen by the Princess. No earth ponies or Pegasi had reported similar feelings, nor had any unicorns save for Twilight. There had to be some connection and some explanation for that. Four of the most powerful magic users in Equestria, in different geographic locations, all suddenly feeling this unknown sense of dread and intrusion in the back of their minds at the same time? That was not a coincidence.
Celestia had pondered on the cause at the time, and as more and more was revealed by the Imperials as to the nature of the foe which had landed on the planet, it seemed more and more likely that the Chaos forces were, in some way, responsible for the phenomenon. It would not be unique; there were magic artifacts and there existed spells which could cause a similar sense of targeted paranoia, as well as other emotions, such as love, lust and anger. But no artifact could affect the Crystal Empire, Ponyville and Canterlot at the same time, and nor could any spell be cast that could do the same, not without visiting each location in turn. As far as could be ascertained, the humans had no technology that could do the same either, meaning that the cause was unknown. All that Celestia and the others could explain was that it felt as though something was coming, something was getting closer, and something was gnawing away at the minds with whispers and promises.
Now, it seemed, they might have their answer. This Daemon creature had been spoken of as a great threat by the Lord-Admiral, who had not been entirely confident of the ability of his men to defeat it in combat. From his explanations it sounded as though the creature was exactly the kind of being that would play such mind games as the Alicorns and Twilight had been experiencing, trying to sew confusion, distrust, fear, whatever emotions would aid its diabolical schemes. Perhaps before its arrival it had, somehow, been doing just that?
Celestia knew the humans referred to their version of magic as psychic powers, those who wielded them were called psykers. To accomplish a feat such as that, this Daemon would have to be a most powerful psyker indeed, given that, if its arrival had been from a similar source to those Daemons she had fought in Manehattan, it had seemingly come from another dimension or some kind of parallel universe. To be able to influence the minds of those in another dimension was a skill which neither she, the great ancient mage Starswirl the Bearded, nor, as far as she knew, even Discord had ever been able to manage. In fact, while scientists had proposed the theory of other dimensions, there had been precisely zero proof discovered by any Equestrian society of such a thing existing before. Perhaps that was simply because their technology was not up to scratch, for technology lagged far behind its potential due to the existence of magic.
If this Daemon was the one behind both the intrusions into her mind, as well as the invasion of her planet, then Celestia felt a great desire to take care of it personally. The ruin and death brought to Equestria could never be forgiven or forgotten, and the punishment would have to be most severe as a result, and the Princess was eager to avenge the dead. There were many of them to seek justice for. Equestria had been ravaged by the invasion and its aftermath. Many towns were still completely out of contact, their status unknown. There simply had not been the forces to spare to go and check on them, with military ranks thinned by the sudden assault from the stars, and now run ragged trying to keep some semblance of order even in the few pony strongholds that remained under friendly control, mostly out to the west. Now that they had to provide forces to occupy and try to rebuild Manehattan, their resources were dwindling still further, which was why Celestia was so keen to recapture Fillydelphia. The National Arsenal could be fixed up easily enough and put back into service providing equipment and ammunition, vitally needed.
Celestia had been on the way to see her sister and speak with her regarding the new developments when she found herself being ambushed in the bright halls of the palace by one of her guards, who hurriedly trotted up to her from behind.
'Your Highness!' he began. 'The human spotters wish to speak with you at once. They have another message for you from the Lord-Admiral.'
Celestia had simply nodded, and followed him. He took her to the throne room, where Atter and Mons awaited, still serving as the communications liason party between the fleet and the ponies, providing constant communications between the Lord-Admiral and the Princess whenever the occasion warranted it. Celestia nodded at them both as she entered the chamber. She had been expecting another call, though perhaps not quite so soon. Perhaps the Lord-Admiral's plan had succeeded even faster than he hoped it might? Atter offered her the handset, and she took it, as usual, using her magic to float it up to her face so she could speak into it, though she would have to move it again in order to hear properly, as the set was not designed for use by ponies..
'Go ahead, Admiral.'
'Your Highness,' Marcos replied quickly. 'I am afraid I must ask for your assistance.'