Princess Celestia knew full well that the word of Chaos could never be taken at face value. She had learned that in the past with Discord, who had proven time and again the wisdom of doubt on her behalf. Then the Daemon, Malaranth, had again spoken with forked tongue, hiding reality behind meaningless bluster and diversion. Now this human claimed to be Parthax the Infidel?
From what she understood from the Imperial forces, Parthax was presumed dead. He had spearheaded the first invasion of Equestria by the Chaos forces, and had then gone missing, but presumed to be on board his flagship, the Soul Harvest. After Celestia had broken through the warp storm and the human fleet had been able to re-enter orbit around the planet, they had routed Parthax's fleet and destroyed the Soul Harvest. Parthax had been believed to have gone down with his ship; after all, whatever or whoever was powering the warp storm must have died with it, for its destruction saw an end to the swirling tempest which had surrounded the planet.
Celestia knew the name as she had been briefed by Lord-Admiral Marcos, but, as Parthax himself had mentioned, this was the first time they had met face to face, if indeed this was he and not some impostor or rival sorcerer claiming his title. He matched the description provided; eyes aglow, a strong, rugged appearance, slitted pupils, a cape, a staff, the same heavy armour as the other mighty foes Celestia had bested moments earlier. Perhaps this truly was Parthax? But if so, how had he escaped the destruction of his flagship, and how had he managed to return at the head of another fleet?
'Parthax The Infidel?' Celestia spoke. 'I was under the impression that you were dead. What a pity it would be if that were to prove to not be the case.'
'Oh, the proof is right in front of you, Princess,' Parthax replied, his voice silky-smooth despite his warped appearance, twisted by Chaos and with his armour daubed with symbols and sigils which would no doubt be anathema to the Imperials, but had no effect on Celestia beyond the vague hints of a sense of unease at the back of her mind, which was a common symptom of exposure to Chaos in general, she had noted, both through personal experience and reports from Luna, Cadence and Twilight, as well as field reports from various military units who had confronted Chaos forces. It was a similar feeling to that which Discord instilled in her upon their first meetings, so many moons earlier, though more persistent, even when she was not in such close proximity to the forces of the human Archenemy. Their mere presence in orbit or on the surface of her planet was enough to cause disquiet, it seemed, even in alicorns.
'Why should I believe your words?' Celestia questioned the alleged Parthax. 'Not that it matters, ultimately. It does not matter how you choose to style yourself, or if you are the human you claim to be. You will fail, all the same.'
'I will fail, you say? But you believed I was already dead, that I had already, therefore, failed in my mission here. I hate to disabuse you of that notion, Princess,' Parthax retorted. 'But I feel that I must correct your historical record. For posterity, you understand.'
'For your ego, you mean?' Celestia suggested. It seemed that Parthax had a high opinion of himself, such that he made a specific point to let her know his apparent true identity, as if she should be scared or in awe of his name. She was wary, of course, but if he hoped to instill fear into the Princess, then Parthax would be sadly mistaken.
'My ego?' Parthax chuckled, a slightly serpentine sound that reminded Celestia quite strongly of her nemesis, Queen Chrysalis, and her lizard-like tongue. 'My ego matters not, Princess, but even if it did then my successes speak for themselves. They do not refer to me as the Torturer of Worlds for no reason.'
'And yet your invasion failed,' Celestia pointed out. The initial assault on the planet had indeed been stopped short, though only with the invaluable aid of the Imperial fleet and ground forces. 'Why do you imagine this time will be any different?'
'Because I know now what I did not know before,' Parthax replied. 'I know about you.'
'You imagine that will change things?' Celestia responded. 'If you believe I would ever aid you in your schemes, then...'
'No, no, of course not.' Parthax laughed. 'Clearly you are a creature of strong will and strong mind. I am sure there is nothing that I could ever say or do to make you assist me. Even if I had your beloved sister as a hostage, for example. I do not, however, so do not fear. The last I saw she was attempting to stop my forces from passing through this barrier you have erected around the city. Most impressive, by the way. There are few creatures in the galaxy that can perform such a feat purely from their mental prowess.'
Celestia did not comment about Luna, or about the shield. It was wise not to mention Cadence, since Parthax had not yet spoken of her. Perhaps he was unaware of the existence of a third alicorn at all, or perhaps he had simply chosen not to mention her. It was best to let him imagine that she herself was powering the shield, which she could of course do if needed. Just like the Elements, hiding Cadence from the awareness of the enemy could prove to be important in the future.
'How exactly do you imagine you will change things, then?' she asked. Her wings flapped steadily, though unnecessarily, as she was using her magic to effortlessly maintain altitude, hovering above Parthax as he stood surrounded by the bodies of his men, yet seemingly unconcerned by their fate, or by the potential for facing his own death at her hooves.
'Because I know what you can do,' Parthax explained simply. 'Perhaps I underestimate you. You could call it that, though that is not exactly the truth of it. I sensed your power from afar. That is why I came to this planet in the first place, you see. I did not know exactly what I had sensed, but I could feel a presence that simply had to be...investigated. It was most unusual. I believe your new friends must have detected the same thing, Princess. Did it never occur to you that they might be here, in truth, for much the same reasons as those you have been fighting?'
It had, of course, and that had been Celestia's initial concern when the Imperial fleet had arrived in orbit; that they had come either for her or for the Elements of Harmony, neither of which could be allowed to fall into their hands, both because of the power they possessed and because of their importance in dealing with threats to Equestria that nothing else could handle. There was little that could stand before Celestia and her sister, and those things that could would fall before the Elements. That was the advantage they still possessed over both the Chaos and Imperial forces. Her own strength had been ably demonstrated by the destruction of part of the Chaos fleet, but the Elements had not yet been revealed either in word or in deed. So far as she knew, neither her ally nor her enemy was aware of the six relics and their powers. At least, not her human enemy.
'I have no doubt the Imperials had their own intentions when they came here, just as you did. But they have shown restraint, and they have shown support for us. They have aided us in the fight against you and your kind, because you are their mortal enemy. I have no doubt that is their true motivation, not altruism toward us. But they have helped us where you and your kind have brought us only pain and death. They are an ally, at least for now, regardless of what may happen in the future, and you are a sworn enemy of both of us.'
'Ah, but Princess, all I desire is knowledge. Knowledge! Nothing more than that,' Parthax replied. 'Knowledge that I am sure you could give me, either voluntarily or by force if needs be. For you see, your power is most unusual. It does not come from the same place as my own, yet it very much rivals anything else I have seen in potency. It is a curiosity, and I would hate for the potential you represent to be wasted, simply thrown aside or struck down by the soldiers of the Corpse Emperor.' Parthax made a grandiose gesture with his staff. 'I know I said before that I could not see any way in which you would aid me, but consider the simple fact that if you help, if you allow me to...study the source of your power, then I, and the forces under my command, shall leave your planet alone. We have no quarrel with your species, so to speak. We merely seek answers to questions previously unknown.'
Celestia did not buy a single word of Parthax's offer. It was all clearly lies, so clear in fact that she was almost insulted by his suggestion that she would simply roll over and submit to questioning, torture and who knows what else in order that he could establish whatever facts he wished to possess as regards to her magic. Even if she were so inclined as to offer aid in his quest, the fact that his forces had twice invaded Equestria and killed countless ponies, destroying towns and cities and tearing up the very fabric of society, would have rendered even the most pacific and innocent of ponies into a warmongering hawk who wanted nothing more than to destroy this human foe for what they had done to Equestria, to their home. That was all the reaction these Chaos forces deserved, for they had shown no redeeming qualities whatsoever. The Imperials had begun with aggressive intentions, but at least for now, they had turned their efforts elsewhere, and were content not to conquer or subjugate Equestria. The same could most decidedly not be said for Chaos.
'I have no doubt that you would be delighted if I were to accept your offer,' Celestia responded to the sorcerer. 'But at least do me the courtesy of considering me not to be entirely stupid. Even a fool would see through your lies, and I can assure you that I am no fool.'
'I never suggested that you were, Princess,' Parthax answered back swiftly. 'Indeed, everything I have learned of you suggests you are highly intelligent. Just another reason to provoke my interest in you.'
'I suggest you take your interest elsewhere,' Celestia responded. 'There is nothing here for you.'
Parthax chuckled. 'There is much here to intrigue and enrapture one such as myself, one who seeks the new and the different. Status quo is so boring, as Lord Tzeentch himself would assert. I happen to agree. There is a lot on this planet which is unusual, perhaps unique, and you are no exception, Princess. Your uniqueness is what gives you your power, and that power is useful. It would be wise for someone to harness it, someone who truly knows the secrets of the galaxy beyond this planet. You are powerful, Princess, but you are also ignorant of the truths of life in the universe. Any society without space travel will be so, for that is the simple truth. If you cannot leave your planet, then how can you possibly know what lies beyond? What threats and opportunities, what other cultures and species may inhabit the stars? Now, you have learned some small part of the reality, Princess. A very small part, but still, it is a good place to start. do you not wish to learn more, to have your power and glory spread across the galaxy?'
'I desire nothing more than the protection of my citizens,' Celestia replied clearly. 'The sooner you understand that, the sooner you will know that you should leave now if you value your life, for I see no reason to keep you alive.'
Parthax laughed. 'Such aggression, more worthy of Khorne than the Lord of Change, but understandable, one supposes. I regret the...vehemence with which my men have acted toward your citizens and your planet, but you see, you must forgive them. It is not so often they are presented with the opportunity for such...unrestricted action. They may have been rather overzealous with their prosecution of the conflict.'
Overzealous would be the understatement of the century, given the way the Chaos forces had raged across the land, raping and pillaging, despoiling everything they touched and killing for sport or to sate their bloodlust, and not for any military purpose. Whatever Parthax might say was meaningless, for their true intentions were clear from the start. These were not the actions of some force of soldiers releasing pent up anger and frustration. These were the actions of a force of killers, who held no care for innocent life, or perhaps no concept of its existence at all. Such naked evil had never been seen in Equestria before, even with all of the villains that had ravaged her over the centuries. Celestia could only hope their like would never come again.
'This is your final chance,' she spoke coldly. 'Go now. Leave this place, or you will die here.'
'As you wish, Princess.' Parthax had clearly seen the danger he was in, perhaps explaining why he had been so willing to talk to Celestia. She had proven to be his equal in single combat, and his armoured guardians were dead, scattered around him. The men who had accompanied them had fallen in their hundreds, victims of Celestia, of Luna, and of the city defences. Though they had forced a breach into the palace, they had failed in their mission to capture it, and were now in retreat, leaving Parthax almost entirely without support. He spoke again, his sickly-smooth voice belying his obvious evil nature. 'I am at something of a disadvantage here, but no matter. I shall go, and I shall return again, and we shall speak once more, without interruption, I hope. Farewell for now, Princess Celestia.'
Parthax's staff flashed, and he blinked out of existence, leaving just a small puff of smoke where he had once stood among the bodies of his fallen comrades.
The news on board the Emperor's judgement was not good. Deck 10 had apparently fallen to the Changelings, despite extra security being put into place and additional armsmen being rushed there to defend it. Men had died, and the more the command staff threw into the mix, the more casualties they suffered. The Changelings were dangerous in close combat, a cross between a Tyranid and one of the unicorn ponies, with many of the advantages of both creatures, and few of the disadvantages, combined with the ability to disguise themselves almost completely infallibly as whatever they wished.
Internal vid-cams were helping the crew track the Changelings' movements, but as soon as the drones came across one, they destroyed it. Evidently they were aware of the purpose of the devices, and knew that they would aid the crew and hinder their efforts to capture the ship. That, it seemed, was a product of their hive mind and related psychic abilities. If one drone learned, through any method, of the purpose of the vid-cam device, every drone would know the same fact within seconds, or perhaps even instantaneously.
The fight had been hard, but Deck 10 had apparently now come under Changeling control almost entirely. There were most likely still crewmen on the deck, but with movement locked down and communications severed to the affected areas, there was no way for the bridge to know for certain if there were any survivors from among the armsmen or deck crew. Assuming the bridge was the target of the Changeling attack, then Deck 9 was next in line, and it too had been reinforced with extra defences, bolstered with more armsmen and more guns. Every man and woman had been given some kind of weapon, no matter how primitive. It was necessary. The enemy had to be stopped, or the entire ship could fall to them, and that would throw the whole fleet into disarray.
On the bridge, Lord-Admiral Marcos was seeing something he had never seen before. He was watching his ship slowly slipping from his control, right under his nose, and he seemed to be powerless to do anything about it. The reports had poured in, men screaming for aid and reinforcements, shouting warnings and calling for the deck to be locked down. It had already been secured, and men had been posted on Deck 9 at every accessible entry point, including not just companionways and turbolifts, but also at wherever pipes and conduits came up from the level below. Guards might not be able to stop the drones coming through, but they could at least slow them down, inflict casualties and sound the alarm for certain sections to be closed off and sealed. It might be enough to keep the Changelings in check.
Several of the fleet's troop transports were pulling alongside the flagship. Their holds were still loaded with guardsmen who had not been deployed to the planet, or those units which had been withdrawn from the fighting to rest and recover. At the command of the Lord-Admiral, several regiments had been mobilised. It was a large concentration of men, but the Emperor's Judgement was the equivalent of a small city, and would need a consequentially sizeable force to effectively defend. Only the Guard were trained and equipped well enough to fight such an enemy in such a fashion. The armsmen were brave and tenacious in the defence of their ship, but they were armed only with autoguns and shotguns, which were ideal for defending tight spaces and passageways, but did not necessarily offer enough firepower to kill tougher or armoured enemies. Heavy weapons were lacking, and there were only so many armsmen to go around. Some were already dead, and others were detailed to guard key locations and keep the decks secure, meaning there were not the huge numbers that might be required to actively retake captured decks from the Changelings and bring them back under the control of the crew.
Men were standing by to board the Emperor's Judgement and come to the aid of the beleaguered flagship and its crew, but nobody knew exactly how many Changelings they were dealing with. It was unknown how many were aboard, or exactly where they had come from. Nor did anyone know how many others might be out there among the fleet, aboard other vessels, potentially, which could include the transports that were now coming to the assistance of the flagship. Caution had to be utilised, but the ships of the fleet had to be informed of the details of the attack so that they could be alert to the same dangers that might spread to their vessels. The fear was that it could equally spread unnecessary paranoia among the crews; there might be no danger, it could just be an isolated incident. Or, there might be Changelings lurking aboard every ship, on every deck, waiting for the right time to strike and kill.
Marcos did not know the purpose of the Changeling attack. Nobody did. Were they after him, as they had gone for the Imperial leadership before when they killed Lord-General Galen? Were they working with Chaos? Were they, despite Celestia's affirmations to the contrary, working with the ponies in secret? Were they pursuing their own agenda, and if so, what was it, and what did they hope to gain? Did they want to turn the guns of the Emperor's Judgement on Equestria, and finally wipe out their alleged old foe once and for all, allowing them to take control of the planet for themselves? That seemed like a distinct possibility, perhaps driven by the destruction of their volcano Hive which may have been the catalyst for their actions. The only thing that was known for certain was that they were on board his ship, and they were killing his crew.
'My Lord! Message from Deck 9!' the internal vox officer called from his station across the bridge. 'They are under attack!'
'This is it, then,' Marcos grunted. They had been waiting for the next attack for some time, as the Changelings had apparently been content to take a break, and there had been a lull in the fighting, with no attempt to push and capture the next deck for thirty minutes or so. The bridge crews had been closely monitoring all of the internal systems, from the vid-cams to the detection network and the status of bulkhead and door seals.There had been no activity for that half hour period, but with the systems on decks 10 and 11 down, nobody knew what the Changelings were doing during that time. It seemed now that they had been preparing to push up to the next deck, which was the expected action. The sensor officer called that the internal detectors were starting to register large readings of the unknown particle on Deck 9, confirming the presence of Changelings there.
'Inform Deck 9 that they are to hold the line,' Marcos spoke, though they had been told that many times already. 'Reinforcements are on the way to them. Bring those ships in, and prepare the docking bays on Deck 6 for the transfer of men and equipment from the transports.'
'Yes, My Lord!' Junior officers scrambled to obey. Time could be critical, or else they might lose Deck 9 as well, if the Changelings were as determined as they had been during the initial boarding. There were a string of rapid reports from the deck as Changelings popped up at several locations and began to fight with the armsmen and armed crew. The internal vox officer informed Marcos of a similar report from Deck 12; the drones were pushing down as well as up, presumably heading for the main reactor, or perhaps the lower security backup station. They seemed to have a disturbing knowledge of the ship's internal layout, gained through some unknown means.
'My Lord!' Another shout drew the attention of Marcos. One of the armsmen stationed around the bridge on guard duty was pointing up. His sharp eyes had caught movement; flies, a small cluster of them, coming out of one of the vents up near the ceiling of the bridge chamber. Such insects and similar vermin were not uncommon aboard ship, where garbage control was sometimes lax and the sanitation systems often malfunctioned, being millennia old. A minor nuisance, normally. But the reports from the lower decks had suggested that the Changelings were making their advance using the vents, ducts and cable chases that ran through the ship like tunnels. It would be impossible for a man to fit through, or indeed a drone in its true form. But flies...
'Action stations!' Marcos roared, drawing his laspistol. 'Defend the bridge!'
Many of the crew looked at him with confused faces, but the armsmen leaped into action. Suddenly where there had been flies, there were Changelings, hissing tongues and sharp fangs. Shotgun blasts rang out as green magic flashed, and within moments the bridge was a battlefield. Men were dying, falling across their consoles and slumping to the deck as they scrambled for cover, trying to get away from the nightmare now unleashed in their midst. Armsmen moved in, their guns flashing. The lighting went out, some panel or switch somewhere struck by a stray shot or blast of magic. Blood-red emergency lights glowed, white and green flashes from gunfire and magic causing a strobe-like effect, as if they were in some kind of nightclub in the seedier parts of Hydraphur, back at fleet headquarters. The internal sensors were beeping almost in mockery, alerting the crew to the presence of the unknown particle on Deck 1, the bridge.
Marcos ducked down behind his command lectern, taking aim with his laspistol. The vox officer was trying desperately to send out a message, but a curved horn pierced his back and sent him staggering forward, slumping across the console, his message incomplete, perhaps not sent at all. An armsman was all but torn in half by a blast of magic, while a drone about to pounce on a defenceless ensign ended its life with its brains splattered against the bulkhead behind. There were at least a dozen drones, maybe more, twenty, perhaps. The squads of armsmen had been caught on the hop, not ready for such a sudden attack, and several of them already lay dead. Others were moving in to try and corral the Changelings, but they were taking losses. Magic shields protected some of the drones as they shielded themselves and their brethren, but no such option was available to the crew. All they could do was shelter beneath their consoles and run for better cover, run for the turbolift to take them away from the bridge. Marcos knew he had to do the same.
He took a snap shot and wounded a drone, before scrambling over to the next console, keeping low as magic flashed above him. The turbolift was ahead, and two Lieutenants were trying to access it, calling the elevator up to the bridge. The doors slid open, and both men died in a heartbeat.
More drones had somehow accessed the lift, though the system had been secured against going below Deck 8. It was not possible for them to simply take the lift up from the decks they held. Yet, they had apparently found some way of getting on board, presumably from another deck which they had accessed through the vents and pipes. One of the Changelings was notably larger than the others, and they advanced from the lift, cutting down armsmen from behind. Marcos had only one course open to him, and he wasted no time, sprinting as fast as his old legs could carry him, flinging himself against the door of his ready room and bursting through, closing it behind him. Salvation, albeit temporary. The illusion of safety. For the second time since arriving at this planet, his ship, his bridge, his inner sanctum had been violated by these Changeling enemies.
The gunfire outside continued. Marcos tried the vox on his desk, to get through to another deck, to the security centre, to anyone. But the system was dead. He kept his pistol trained on the door in case a drone should burst through it, but none did. Eventually, the noise from outside ceased. The battle for the bridge was over, one way or another. Marcos could not get through to anyone, nor was there any other way out of the ready room. He had no personal teleporter device, such as those carried by some of the Astartes.
There was movement outside the door, audible to him as he kept his gun trained. Friend, or foe? Perhaps he could go down fighting at least, or perhaps the armsmen had done their job well. Perhaps the vox officer's call for reinforcements had got through. Or perhaps not. From outside the door came a feminine voice.
'Lord-Admiral Marcos, isn't it? What a pleasure to finally meet you. Why not come out here, so that we can have a little talk?'