//------------------------------// // Incoming // Story: Strange Bedfellows // by BRBrony9 //------------------------------// Destroyer section Quintus kicked their main drives to full and drove straight for the planet, back to the fleet, back to protection and relative safety. Staying where they had been was tantamount to suicide. Turning to fight would have been even more futile. Their frantic messages to the Brigand's Folly had been rapidly relayed to the rest of the fleet, which had immediately gone to full alert, forming up into combat formation. The Brigand's Folly, acting as a relay picket ship, had been withdrawn, with orders sent out for all scout ships and escort sections to withdraw to sector 1, which was the designation given to the space above the main continent. Destroyer section Quintus proceeded at full speed, with many a figurative glance over the shoulder. Behind them came nearly two dozen Chaos capital ships. Leading the charge came four battleships, a trio of Despoiler-Class vessels and a Desolator-Class. There were four Repulsive-Class Grand Cruisers, a dozen Cruisers and Light Cruisers, and a small swarm of escorts and raiders. A Chaos warfleet, striking seemingly from nowhere. Evidently the Ruinous Powers were not content to simply leave this planet alone, nor were they content to send their Daemonic minions to try and conquer it. Now they were sending fresh men, ships and resources to replace those wiped out by the Imperial Crusade. The planet had fallen mostly under Imperial influence, save for a few small, scattered holdouts and occupied towns. The main bastion of resistance was FIllydelphia, but Malaranth the Infinite was steadying the ship there and tying up the Imperial ground forces, as well as the two pony Princesses. The Imperial fleet in orbit was heavily depleted, a shadow of its former self. When it arrived in the system, several months ago, it was a mighty force, one to be reckoned with, one that could conquer entire star systems or terrify planets into submission by its mere presence and the threat of its guns. Now, it was a hollow shell, with but a handful of capital ships and a few squadrons of escorts. It was no longer a conquest force, or even an occupation force, in truth. While there were still large numbers of Imperial Guard aboard the numerous transports and planetside, their protection was limited. The fleet could not stand for long against a large-scale enemy attack, and yet that was exactly what was coming their way. A force even bigger than the initial raiding fleet that had pushed them back thanks to the warp storm was heading their way, and they had little time to prepare. What the enemy wanted was unknown- did they want to destroy the remnants of the fleet and avenge their own fallen comrades? Did they want to glass the planet's surface, destroy all life? Did they want to force the Imperials away and take control of the planet for themselves? Did they simply want to rescue their men who were trapped on the planet? There was no guarantee that the desires of this latest warfleet coincided with those of the original attackers, who had seemingly been interested in capturing, killing or studying the Princesses in some fashion. Different sects of Chaos, and those following different gods, could just as easily fight each other as fight the Imperium, and the identities of these ships and their specific loyalties were unknown. For the most part, they were also irrelevant. Chaos was Chaos, and had to be fought and eradicated wherever it was possible. Destroyer section Quintus had raised their shields in anticipation of a bombardment from behind, and it came shortly after, while they were still millions of miles from the protective umbrella of the rest of the fleet. Long range lance fire struck out at them, playing over the shields. The rear arc of each ship's defences had been reinforced by rerouting power from the front and sides, for extra protection as they ran for safety. A strike to the aft end of the ship's hull could cripple its main drives and render them helpless, dead in space and easy prey for the oncoming Chaos fleet. The shields held against the scattered, long-range fire. The enemy was still distant, many millions of miles away, but closing fast, as they had left warp at a fair pace without slowing down. Their target was clear, even if their intentions were not so immediately apparent. The destroyers had an advantage of speed over the heavily armed capital ships, although Chaos escorts were just as fast, if not faster in many cases. They did not want to waste their torpedoes on such comparatively weak targets as Imperial destroyers; they were reserved for fighting capital ships, where their immense explosive power could be used to greatest effect. Imperial escort squadrons from several other points around the system were being rapidly recalled and were hurrying back to get into combat formation with the rest of the fleet. The bridge of the Emperor's Judgement was busy. They had been focused on a fight on the ground below, but now they had to quickly change their attention to a battle for their own survival. Lord-Admiral Marcos had pounded his fists on the railing of his command lectern in frustration at the message relayed from destroyer section Quintus. Yet more Chaos interference and another threat to his fleet; that was the last thing they needed now. They had a good handle on things up to this point, clearing out Chaos forces from a number of cities on the planet, securing the space around it, driving away the previous enemy fleet after crippling it, though suffering heavy losses themselves in the process. The arrival of the Daemon was bad enough, a clear threat to their ground operations at the very least. But now there was a fleet as well, a threat to the entire Crusade, the fleet, the transports, and every creature on the planet, should they be allowed to get back into orbit and force the Imperial fleet away, or destroy it entirely. A battle formation was rapidly adopted by the ships of the fleet. The Emperor's Judgement and the Indefatigable, the two capital ships, were protected at the centre of an array of smaller cruisers, light cruisers, and escort destroyers. Frigates provided outlying support. But the attentions of the fleet had to be on more than just protecting the capital ships. The vulnerable transports, tankers and cargo vessels had been assembled in a large huddle, placed behind the fleet, with their guns between the transports and the approaching enemy. They were on a course to come around the planet roughly at the equator, but there was no guarantee that was where they would emerge. Space, after all, was very much three dimensional, and it was entirely possible for Chaos ships to come over either pole or around the other side of the planet, rather than following the projected route. Most starship commanders across the galaxy, however, tended to be more restrictive in their thinking. A study of the majority of major space engagements recorded in Imperial archives would tend to indicate the same things; if a battle was fought near a planet, then both fleets tended to orient themselves the same way as the planet itself, with up corresponding to the northern pole of the planet with reference to the galactic plane, rather than to any specific designations given by the local inhabitants. Attack and fighter craft tended to be the ones that would perform all kinds of fancy maneuvers, with several simple and sound reasons behind the relatively static nature of fleet combat. For one thing, great hulking battlecruisers and battleships were far from the most agile vessels, and to turn or rotate into a different orientation could take an age. Ships that had batteries which could be used for ground attack, or which mounted weapons capable of being used for Exterminatus, usually had such weapons mounted ventrally, meaning keeping their bellies aimed toward the planet was sound tactical sense when in orbit. A uniformity of orientation also aided visual checks by ship commanders if their tactical displays happened to be out of commission, and assisted with damage reporting by friendly vessels. It also helped with emergency signalling, such as that performed by the Polaris Maxima. by making sure the infra-red lights were visible to other craft. Having one's ship upside down in relation to the enemy fleet was of no tactical advantage, except in the few rare cases where doing so would bring otherwise unused weaponry to bear on a target. Lord-Admiral Marcos was under no illusions that protecting the transports would be a difficult task. The reports from destroyer section Quintus indicated at least twenty enemy ships of the line, along with a similar number of escorts, a force that far outnumbered and outgunned his own. He could sense the worry and the subtle panic running beneath the surface of the bridge crew. No matter how powerful a ship and how experienced its crew, there was only so much they could take on, only so many enemies that could be fended off before their destruction became inevitable. With no idea if the enemy target was the fleet, the transports or the planet itself, Marcos could not formulate a suitable battle plan. He could order the transports to flee into deep space, go to warp if necessary, but if the enemy fleet pursued them, they would be destroyed and those aboard would die to a man. Heavy bulk transports could not outrun, and certainly not outfight, either capital ships or escorts. Their crews and the Guardsmen in their holds would be totally helpless. There was no guarantee they would be safe if they remained close to the fleet, either. They could still be deliberately targeted if they were a target for the enemy. Babysitting duties were most decidedly not what capital ships were designed for, and the need to protect the transports tied Marcos's hands somewhat. He also had to protect the planet. It would be impossible to prevent the enemy from getting into range to launch Exterminatus-class weapons, if that was their intention. He simply did not have the ships to protect all sides of the planet at once. Splitting his forces piecemeal would invite their rapid destruction at the hands of such a large force. If the enemy simply wanted to bombard the planet from the other side, there would be little Marcos could do about it, other than to move his whole fleet around it to engage, by which time it would already be too late. If the enemy wanted to occupy the planet, to land upon it and take it for themselves, however, they would need to take out the Imperial fleet, and that was what Marcos was counting on. As long as they wanted to engage him, then he could fight. His ships could fight, his men could fight. They had done so before and they would do so again. The Lord-Admiral had no doubt that every crewmember aboard every ship would give their utmost. Not to protect the planet or its inhabitants, not to protect the vulnerable guardsmen, not for glory or honour or even for the Emperor, but for themselves and for each other. The comradeship of a good crew had no compare throughout the known galaxy, save for the bonded Battle Brothers of the holy Astartes. Ship crews were forged in blood and made from steel, hardened in battle and through the shared hardships of life among the stars. The men on the lower decks might not like their commanders or their officers, and may even openly despise some of them, but they would fight and work and struggle for their fellow shipmates, the men and women who slept in sweat-stained bunks, ate the same slop served on the mess decks, and who toiled alongside them in the furnace-heat of the engine and reactor rooms, the hazardous exhaust gases and clanging metal of the Macrocannon galleries, or the blood-soaked horror of the wartime infirmaries. And many times, none of that was enough. Marcos feared this could be one of those times. Quick mental calculations made an estimate of how many guns he had available to him, and how many the enemy likely had. Firepower alone did not decide battles, but it was always better to have more of it than less. Repairs, at least, had been completed on all ships since the last major engagement, and each vessel was in as good a shape as it could be, given the lack of spare parts and crew losses they had all endured. Not one single combat vessel did not bear any scars from previous fighting, and some had suffered more than others, but they were all ready to do battle again. Destroyer section Quintus rounded the planet, appearing on the fleet's sensors as a trio of blue sigils. A welcome sight, but not enough to tip the scales of battle. Marcos sent a signal for them to form up on the left flank of the fleet; that was to say, the side closest to the planet, plugging a gap in the line. They reported the enemy fleet was still following them, following their trajectory toward the planet, which would bring them out at roughly the same point, coming around the planet and into view. The one advantage Marcos had was that the planet would have hidden his ships from the enemy Auspex scans. They could not know the exact positions of the Imperial ships, and nor could they know their numbers, unless they had somehow been able to communicate with enemy forces already on the planet somehow, astropathically perhaps. An opening salvo, catching the Chaos ships by surprise, could sew enough confusion to throw the enemy operation into disarray, but it was still a long shot. The enemy may not know their numbers, but they knew that Imperial forces were in the system. They would not be advancing blindly into danger. Their void shields would be raised, their weapons armed and ready. If they were lucky, the Emperor would protect them. If they were unlucky, then He had already forsaken their doomed Crusade. The ships of destroyer section Quintus moved into position with the rest of the fleet, and every man and woman aboard every ship waited, with every gun that could be brought to bear aimed at the approximate area where the enemy would appear. And appear they did, just as predicted. They were slightly above the equatorial plane of the planet, which suited the Imperial fleet since they were in a similar position. Several squadrons of escorts, destroyers and frigates, appeared, a nasty rash of red sigils on the tactical displays. Behind them came the cruisers, but it was the capital ships that were the real targets, the battleships and Grand Cruisers. Despite the inevitable warnings from the lead vessels which would have picked up the Imperial ships right away, the Chaos capital ships continued on, seemingly unconcerned, perhaps a statement of intent, or perhaps simply because the numbers were very much in their favour. The lead ships began to make the turn towards the Imperial fleet, and as the capital ships appeared, Marcos gave a simple, one-word order. 'Fire!' If Canterlot without Princess Celestia seemed an incomplete place, then Canterlot with either Celestia or Luna seemed downright empty. Twilight had returned to the throne room to share with the night princess a few minor observations she had made of the enemy ships in orbit, only to find Princess Cadence in her place. While she was of course glad to see her former foalsitter, she had immediately asked the question that had to be asked. Where was Luna? She had received the answer she was hoping not to hear. Gone to help Celestia in the fight against the Daemon. While it was good that assistance was available, it meant that Celestia had decided she may not be capable of tackling the Daemon alone. Even if she could, the mere fact that she had enough doubt in her mind as to call for aid meant that the creature she fought was a most formidable foe indeed. Twilight most fervently hoped that the Elements would not be required to defeat the creature, for it was down to her inattention that one of them was missing. If only she had prevented her own capture...but she had told herself she was past thinking about that. She had accepted the words of Spitfire and Luna, she had moved on, or so it seemed. Just when she was starting to put it all behind her, something came and reminded her again of her error, her failure. Cadence had offered comforting words, of course. She did it so well. She always had, right from when Twilight had been a foal and felt bad about something. She remembered once time when she had accidentally smashed the cookie jar when trying to grab a second treat, even though Cadence had already given her one. Her magic had not been as refined then as it was now, and down had gone the jar, shattering into a thousand pieces. Her first reaction had been to run, and then to cry. When Cadence found her and confronted her, she cried again, and Cadence had immediately turned from stern guardian to a second mother, giving Twilight a warm embrace with her wings. She was not mad, she had said, because Twilight had admitted her mistakes. Yes, she had run away at first, because she was scared. But when Cadence found her, she had confessed to the crime of breaking the jar, which earned her immediate forgiveness, a cuddle, and an extra cookie, while Cadence used her magic to repair the jar. Now Twilight had made another costly error, but this time, unlike the jar, the missing Element could not simply be reassembled or recreated. It was gone, perhaps for good, unless they could find Chrysalis and get it back from her grasp. At any rate, Cadence was now in command until either Luna or Celestia returned to Canterlot. As the only other Alicorn, a heavy weight had suddenly fallen on her shoulders. Yes, she had been responsible for the Crystal Empire for a short while, but now, at least temporarily, she was directly responsible for the whole of Equestria, all of its military forces and all of its citizens. Cadence was far younger and less experienced than the two sisters in such matters, and while she had been a competent and well-liked ruler of the Empire, this was altogether different for her. Even if it was only for a few hours, the weight of responsibility had clearly already lined her face somewhat. The burden of controlling the entire country was one that only Celestia and, ironically, Discord, had known for many, many centuries. It was not something Cadence had been entirely prepared for, though she had been groomed into the role from a young age, and given her first real taste of power and control with the Crystal Empire. Twilight could tell that she was finding it an imposing challenge, but could offer nothing in the way of useful advice in return. All she could do was listen to the words of the temporary, acting commander-in-chief, nod, agree with her. This was what Celestia was ultimately training you for, wasn't it? Should it not be you giving the orders? One day, it can be. Cadence had naturally delegated all military matters to her husband, who was already Guard Commander. Shining Armour was the best pony for the job as he had a seat on the chiefs of staff council, which advised the Princess. Again, however, commanding the Guard was not the same as commanding the Guard, the Army, the Navy and the Air Corps all at once. Like his wife, Shining Armour hoped that the new conditions would be temporary. If nothing else, military and civilian alike needed at least one of the two sisters as a figurehead, though their roles were far greater and more important than that. Twilight, meanwhile, was left with nothing to do. She could offer no guidance or advice to either her brother or Princess Cadence. She had no responsibilities as part of the city's defensive plan, at least not without her Element. All she could do was wait and hope, like all the other civilians in Canterlot. Hope that Celestia and Luna would return, and that they would be victorious. That was what had to happen. They had to come back, alive and well. Even if they did not vanquish the Daemon, they still simply had to come back. But if they do not, then perhaps your potential can finally be unlocked. The city was surprisingly quiet, though few ponies knew that Celestia had gone to fight, and fewer still that Luna had gone after her. Nevertheless, the mood, which had been somewhat buoyant after the return above ground and the clearing of much of the radioactive fallout, had become fairly subdued again. Perhaps ponies subconsciously felt the absence of their Princesses, or perhaps it was some function of the Daemon's presence on the planet. Twilight had certainly felt things. Whispers, it would perhaps be best to call them, inside her mind, long before this creature appeared. Right from the start, in fact, of the invasion. Part of her had said to herself that it was just a general unease, disquiet at the situation and fear of the unknown. But the more she had learned about the enemy, the more rumours had reached her about their atrocities and foul practices, the more convinced she had become that there was more to it than that. A subtle effect, perhaps, like when Discord had tried to persuade Twilight and her friends that they did not need each other's support to escape that maze, trying to turn them against each other in order to defeat them and the Elements they carried. Unlike Discord, however, this effect had been more direct, voices in the back of her mind, whispering words that she, for the most part, could not even understand, yet which sounded malicious, evil. She knew that both Celestia and Luna had also heard them, and now she was fairly sure she knew the source. It had to have been this Daemon, speaking to them somehow from another dimension, because the words and the voice had suddenly become much louder. With nothing else to do except worry herself, Twilight returned to Luna's chambers and to the waiting telescope. It was still trained on the same spot of sky she had been looking at before, and she peered through. That was odd. The ships were gone. Even accounting for orbital drift and planetary rotation, at least one of them should have still been visible at the low zoom setting. She moved the telescope to another nearby quadrant of the sky. Ah, there they were. Definitely the same two ships she had seen before, but now they were suddenly accompanied by more, another half dozen smaller vessels. They weren't there before, or at least, Twilight hadn't seen them. They must have all moved together. They seemed to be in some kind of formation. Only when Twilight zoomed in some more did she see that there were more craft, considerably smaller but still impressive in size, though she could not do the calculations needed to determine all of their lengths without plenty of spare paper. Another couple of dozen, it seemed. How had she not noticed them before? She had been studying the area of sky around the two largest ships quite intently. It seemed that the vessels had come together for some reason. Another landing operation, perhaps, in support of the Princesses? Maybe the smaller craft were transports. But, no, she was sure she had heard somewhere that the human transport ships were almost as big as the capital ships, if not even more bulky in some cases. Did their warships carry infantry in the same way that pony airships did? That would be an interesting study, at least for her brother, someone more martial-minded than herself. Twilight blinked, and looked again. Despite the brightness of the blue sky, she could not just see the ships, but tiny dots, twinkling like miniature stars, heading outward from each craft. Some were streaks of light, other just pinpricks. Perhaps they were transports after all, and she was mistaken? Were these shuttles and landing craft, like those which she had seen at Griffonstone? No, they weren't heading for the planet, they were moving away, toward the eastern horizon. Twilight looked again, and it was only then that she made the connection, with a twinge of horror running through her veins. It was not landing craft that she could see. It was gunfire.