Strange Bedfellows

by BRBrony9

The Plan

The landing operations took several days to fully complete, as there was a lot of materiel to be landed. With no enemy ships in orbit there was no danger of the landing being disrupted except perhaps by enemy atmospheric fighters. As a result, Navy Lightnings constantly flew combat air patrols over the landing fields, though nothing interfered with the operations. Hundreds of thousands of Guardsmen were ferried planetside, along with the equipment they would need to prosecute a major campaign, as the whole continent needed to be swept.

There were tanks in their thousands, personnel carriers and artillery. Construction equipment came down, graders and dozers to clear forward airfields, heavy cranes, armoured recovery vehicles. Prefabricated buildings were delivered by large dropship to house headquarters, medical quarters, stores and garages. A vast field of tents appeared overnight on the plains as men bivouacked under the stars, surrounded by a ring of air and ground defences that quickly grew to being several miles thick, multiple lines of protection, with trenches being dug, bunkers of thick ferrocrete poured, razor wire and minefields laid. Vox antennae sprung up like trees. Within days a city existed where none had before, protected by an air umbrella and the remains of the fleet hanging in orbit above.

No Chaos forces threatened them during their buildup. Some troops were moved by dropship to reinforce Griffonstone, where the cost was still being counted. The dead had been burned, on advice given to the Griffons and ponies by the Imperials as a way of helping to prevent the spread of whatever foul energies and diseases may have lurked within the Chaos-infested enemy, or those who had come into close contact with them, most likely in a hand-to-claw struggle or a particularly sadistic execution. The city outside of the final defensive ring lay in ruins, with shattered buildings, roofless houses open to the sky, blood in the streets. There was little joy to be found, but the discovery of a trio of Griffon hatchlings hiding secreted in a basement by one or both of their parents raised a few happier expressions, at least until it was realised they were almost certainly now orphans.

Squads of humans patrolled the streets of the Griffon capital, their own forces depleted. The survivors of the Pegasi Assault Division had been withdrawn to the airships that hung motionless outside of the city limits, where both Celestia and Luna had taken their turn at giving suitably uplifting speeches. But there was still no news from the outside world. Canterlot had fallen, everypony knew that, and Ponyville, and, of course, Cloudsdale, but with regard to the rest of Equestria, to say nothing of more distant lands like Zebrica, the silence was deafening.

In orbit, however, Lord-Admiral Marcos awaited reconnaissance reports from his ships. He had tasked, upon consultation with the princess, three destroyers to make observations, cloud cover permitting, of cities she named Canterlot, Manehattan, and Las Pegasus. She did not say what, if anything, in particular she expected them to see, but Marcos had decreed an orbital survey a wise idea as it would allow them to gain a broad understanding of enemy locations if their forces could be spotted from on high. He was surprised the princess had made the suggestion, but then everything he had learned about her suggested that she was highly intelligent if nothing else, even, it seemed, with regard to technology that should be beyond her comprehension. Then again, the ponies did possess dirigibles, and what was a space vessel if not merely a vacuum-capable aircraft? A logical extension of aerial surveillance. Marcos mused. Something which I'm sure these ponies are well aware, given that many of them apparently have wings.

The meeting with the princess had at first made him happy enough, but it ended with the Lord-Admiral possessed of a distinct sense of unease. Somehow, through these unknown particles or some other means beyond his control, the princess had gained control over the system's star. It was she, somehow, from within the otherwise-impenetrable warp storm, who had managed to cut an opening for them to gain access to strike at the enemy fleet and destroy whatever was powering the storm from aboard the Soul Harvest. It was she who had destroyed an asteroid seemingly on a whim to press home her unspoken point.

I can destroy your fleet, if you make it necessary.

In his discussions with Grand Magos Darius, the Mechanicus representative had admitted to Marcos that he could find no scientific explanation for either phenomena. Such precision as had been exhibited in both cases, to focus and direct the energy of something as wild and untamed as a star to achieve such specific goals was unheard of, especially without any evidence of tampering, save the fact that her horn glowed. Some kind of fusion booster or plasma weapon affixed to her head, perhaps? But no, there was no chance, the Magos had confirmed, that anything like that could affect a star in such a fashion. She had been millions of miles from the sun, and yet it seemed she had been able to directly create a deadly beam, to release a solar flare, to cause a gigantic coronal mass ejection, and control it precisely enough to graze the edge of the warp storm and cut a hole in it without damaging the planet beneath. All the Magos could do was repeat his previous theory about the unknown particles being responsible in some fashion, his idea being all but confirmed given that the internal sensors of the Emperor's Judgement had recorded an intense source of the particles corresponding with Celestia's position within the ship. Evidently she gave off a tremendous amount, whatever they were and whatever the source was. The Magos theorised that whatever made her horn glow was most likely the source of the particles, and Marcos could only nod and agree. It made sense- although it made no sense. Despite its similarities to many feudal and garden worlds in the Imperium, it seemed that this planet held many idiosyncrasies, some of which, it seemed, had the legitimate potential to destroy the remains of the Crusade fleet.

But even as he worried about the power exhibited by this Xenos princess, Marcos still couldn't shake the feeling he had felt during the meeting. He still felt that the princess had no intention, zero, none at all, of exercising it against them. Her words had rang true when she had spoken of her desire for a peaceful existence, and yet such words puzzled Marcos. This world had many cultures, many species, many nations. Celestia held great power, both politically, militarily, and physically, with reports of her psychic prowess on the battlefield being backed up by her ability to apparently control an entire star and bend it to her whim. So why, Marcos pondered, Is she not Empress of this planet?

From everything Marcos had been told from speaking to Celestia, messages from the first contact team, and after-action reports from the various units in Griffonstone, the ponies possessed the greatest military might of any species on the planet. They had a ruler who could take on an entire squad of Traitor Astartes without even flinching or suffering a scratch, facing down technology and indoctrination far, far beyond anything they were capable of themselves and defeating it in moments. Nothing, as far as he knew, that these other creatures possessed could stand in her way, and any man in a similar position would have quickly risen and unified the planet under one banner, by fear or by force.

So why, he thought again, Is she not Empress of this planet?

The orbital survey reports came in. Scans of Canterlot from orbit revealed evidence of a moderate enemy presence, with vehicles visible as well as the telltale infrared signatures of hundreds of small fires from enemy encampments outside of the walls. Manehattan, Equestria's largest city, was awash with Chaos forces, according to scans. Las Pegasus, however, located out in the western deserts beyond the plains where the Imperial landing was taking place, revealed no signs of the enemy. What did appear on the survey was at least three pony airships around the city, evidence that it remained under local control. A message had been passed to the princess in Griffonstone, and she had made two requests. First, that the humans provide her with transport to the desert city, and second, that they focus their military efforts on retaking Canterlot.

The symbolic nature of retaking the pony capital was clear to Lord-General Galen, and he agreed to do so, though for more practical reasons. It would provide a much-needed morale boost to their allies, as the capitals of both species would be free of the enemy, but more importantly Canterlot occupied a crucial strategic position in the centre of the continent, its mountainside location providing oversight of the valley below. From there, spotters could track enemy movements. Artillery could rain down hell on them. The central location of the city could be used as a springboard for launching further operations across the continent.

As a result, Lord-General Galen had issued his orders, putting the whole heaving apparatus of a human army going to war into motion. Plans were laid, additional surveys conducted, signals intelligence gathered by specially converted Vigilant-pattern Marauder bombers. Inexorably, things began to come together. Men began to march, trucks began to roll. It would take several days at a minimum for the troops to be in position, but such an operation could not be rushed or it might result in disaster. Retaking a planet took weeks or months at a minimum, and depended heavily on the concentration of forces applied, the number and nature of the defenders, the terrain, the condition of existing infrastructure such as roads, the extent of air and space superiority, and a hundred other factors. It could not be rushed, but it was going to happen, sooner or later.

The Valkyrie gunship touched down with a swirl of dust and sand, resting on its landing gear which settled an inch or two into the surface. A pony trotted down the rear ramp of the human craft. Princess Celestia cast her gaze around the dusty wilderness. At her suggestion, the Valkyrie had landed some distance from the city of Las Pegasus. The pony forces there, it seemed, were still operational, and might not react calmly to an unknown aircraft approaching. They would, however, respond to their princess. After thanking the gunship's crew, Celestia took to her wings, heading west towards the city, seemingly untouched by the enemy.

Though the majority of the continent was temperate and fertile, there were also extremes, and Celestia had travelled between two of them, from the iron-hard permafrost of the north to the sun-drenched badlands of the west. Generations ago, hardy (some would say foolish) frontier ponies had pushed westward, into the burning desert, in search of gold and riches unknown. While many had died on the trail from the heat and thirst, the hardy band of survivors had eventually run across a natural spring flowing from the dusty rocks. Further investigation had revealed not just a huge underground aquifer, but a large array of gemstones, precious luxuries in Equestria. Thus, the mining city of Las Pegasus had been founded. Over time as the gem caves ran dry, the purpose of the city changed, and it had become Equestria's premiere tourist haven, rivalled only by the lights and sight of Manehattan. Casinos and amusements lined the main street, while a small sprawl of housing surrounded the city centre and its hotels. By itself it held no military value, which was precisely why Equestrian plans called for any forces in the western region unable to establish contact with regional or central high command in case of sudden attack should retreat to and protect the city. That was exactly what they had done.

Even from a distance, Celestia could see the city was ringed with sandbagged trenches. A trio of airships, two of the City-Classand one of the Royalty-Class held station above the perimeter. Small swarms of Pegasi could be seen flapping to and fro in the skies. Even as she began to approach, one of the City-Class airships, optimised for air defence, swung its nose toward her and began to move steadily, the drone of its motors reaching her ears a few seconds later. She came to a halt, her wings spread wide, beating steadily as she hovered in place while the airship drew closer.

The drone of the engines cut off as the airship had achieved sufficient forward motion to carry itself to its target. After a few moments of silence, a great cheer suddenly carried across the wind. Ponies could be seen on deck in jubilation, hugging each other. Pegasi flitted about the gasbag eagerly. Then, there was a shout through a megaphone.

'Come aboard, Your Highness! Praise The Sun!' Another cheer followed, then a third. Celestia smiled and flapped to the airship's gondola, landing elegantly on the quarterdeck beside the captain, who threw a fine, crisp salute.

'Your Highness! Welcome aboard the EAS Las Pegasus. I am Captain Fair Weather,' the dark blue pegasus stallion announced. 'It is an honour to have you aboard...and a great relief to us all to know you are unharmed.'

'Thank you, Captain,' Celestia replied. 'The royal family is unharmed, but there is grave news from much of Equestria. Tell me, have you seen any sign of the enemy here at Las Pegasus?' she questioned. He shook his head.

'No, Your Highness. Nothing since we received our orders to sortie. We received no contact from Western Region Command in Vanhoover, or from Canterlot, and so our forces assembled here as per standing orders.'

'Canterlot has fallen,' Celestia explained simply, drawing gasps from the deck crew, though they must have at least suspected such a catastrophe due to the lack of communications from the capital. 'Of Vanhoover, I have no word. Tell me, Captain, what forces do you have here?' she questioned.

'Your Highness, we have two City-Class airships, the Las Pegasus and the Fillydelphia, and one Royalty-Class, The Luna. We have approximately one division of infantry dug in around the city along with two independent companies of the 2nd Pegasi Assault Division. We have four heavy batteries of artillery, two light batteries of artillery, and five batteries of field guns.' Celestia nodded.

'Very good, Captain. I feel certain that Las Pegasus will not be attacked. Our human allies have inspected the planet from orbit and they report no signs of enemy activity in the western area of the continent. I want to speak to the garrison commander. You'll all be on the move shortly.'

It took a week for everything to be planned and prepared to the satisfaction of all involved, and another three days to complete the movement of personnel and equipment. Many elements had to come together for a successful operation, especially when it was a joint mission between two radically different armies. But both sides did the best they could, and the plan was put into motion early, before the birds were even awake.

Canterlot sat silently, unmoving, watching over the valley from its position on the plateau, tucked away into the side of the mountain peaks that towered above it. Many of the occupying Chaos forces had, for the umpteenth night in a row, fought and drank themselves into a stupor. With the inhabitants dead or routed, there was little for them to do but scrap among themselves and roam ever farther and wider in search of alcohol or drugs. Despite the threat of attack, discipline was lax among the motley collection of brigands, pirates, deserters, mutants and assorted criminals that made up much of the Chaos troops planetside, and sentries were scarce, gun positions half-manned. Canterlot had taken moderate damage in the invasion, but given the sudden and overwhelming nature of the attack, the majority of the city was actually in fairly good shape, the damage inflicted by the occupiers ripping out expensive furniture and defiling artwork notwithstanding. With the city's curtain walls among those parts that had survived mostly unscathed, infantry manned firing ports and heavy weapons along its length, covering three sides of the city. But with Canterlot backed up against a near-vertical rock wall that climbed high above, nobody was watching the fourth side.

One man, a deserter many years ago from the constant steely discipline of the regiments of the Mordian Iron Guard, stumbled along the eastern end of the southern curtain wall. His autogun was slung haphazardly over one shoulder, his tunic unbuttoned, his breath reeking of wine and whatever these horse-aliens used as hard liquor. Whatever it was, it certainly proved effective. Why, even as he leaned against the parapet wall to regain his balance, he saw something ahead. One of the horse-aliens! But that couldn't be, they had driven them off, killed those that remained. What slaughter there had been! He chuckled at the memory, steadied himself and made to continue his progress, but paused. That was definitely one of them, up ahead! He squinted, eyesight dimmed and blurry from so much drink. The horse was bending over something. Why, it was Horan, one of the tough corsair-types from the second company! What was he doing lying down? Ah, too much to drink! He blinked a few times to clear his eyes, but the horse was still there. He heard something behind him, and turned, swaying. Another horse was behind him, and another beyond that, and another still farther down, and each one seemed to be either standing over one of his squad, or pulling them down.

Suddenly, a dull pain pulsed through his back. He frowned, puzzled, even as his body gave way. He felt himself sinking to the floor, confusion wavering in his addled mind. Why couldn't he stand up? Surely this alien alcohol wasn't all that strong, was it? In his last few moments of conscious thought, he pondered exactly what was in his drink to make him have such vivid hallucinations.

With the walltop taken, a green flare went up, soaring into the sky, a signal to an unseen party. Chaos infantry in the city, those who were awake and sober, pointed up, grabbing their weapons, confused. The daily signal flare was red, not green, and why had nothing come over the vox? Some men went up, climbing the stairs to the wall, and gunshots rang out.

A coordinated plan swung into action. The bivouacked infantry outside of the town, their campfires dying and sputtering in the early morning hours, lay mostly oblivious as the first shells streaked in. Some were awoken by the roar, only to die instantly as a heavy barrage began to erupt, smashing men and their tents into fragments. Some shells released incendiary gel that ignited and spread across a wide area. Some shells detonated in airburst to spread fragments, while others slammed into the ground before detonating. The whole combination resulted in a deadly mess of explosions, shrapnel and fire that decimated the unprepared infantry, scrambling to escape their tents even as death fell around their ears.

In conjunction with the artillery bombardment, Chaos Auspex operators picked up a sudden surge of activity, a large cluster of contacts appearing as if from nowhere, from the west, rising up over the hills on the other side of the valley. Signals were sent out to the few air-defence batteries that had been installed around the city perimeter.

But one had been destroyed by the artillery fire, and three others remained silent, neither firing nor responding. Urgent messages were repeated, but received no response. The one remaining missile battery located within the city itself opened fire, two missiles hurling themselves free of their launch rails and streaking across the dark sky towards their targets. One dropship was struck bodily and burst into flame, dropping out of formation. But the others continued on, a hundred or more in total, with Valkyrie gunship escorts. Waiting, hovering, behind the hills, undetectable by Auspex until the spotter teams reported the flare from the pony infiltrators, the massed air fleet drove hard for the capital. Following them at a far more leisurely pace came the airships, five in total. the Starswirl, the Luna, the Fillydelphia, the Las Pegasus, and the Canterlot, leading the charge back to her namesake city, the capital, the figurehead, the seat of power, Celestia's city, carved from marble and perched atop the mountains. Aboard the airships were several thousand pony infantry, Pegasi assault troops and earth pony gunners, unicorn support troops and squad leaders, all waiting, eager, willing, to retake their capital, for Equestria, and for Celestia.

Small-arms fire rose from the city to meet the threat, but the response was scattered, ineffective, shortn of their air defence batteries and many of their emplaced weapons by the sudden infiltration. Ponies of the Pegasi Assault Division and the Royal Guard's Special Operations Unit, who now held the battlements, fired down at their enemies as they skittered through the streets and plazas below in a desperate attempt to organise themselves. Dropships heaved themselves over the ramparts, engines screaming, ropes dropping from their troop compartments. Across the city, men descended, ready to fight their Archenemy, to drive them back into the warp, for the Crusade, and for the Emperor.

The counterattack had begun.

Comments

[BeardedRedMane]

oof, another WH40K crossover.
Before I start this long journey please tell me that tragedy and gore tag is not there because ponies I know and love are gonna die. OC's and humans... well the Emporer protects.

[Warrior of Virtue]

I would love to see an Imperial's reaction to the Tree of Harmony. It's pretty much exactly what the Tree of Life was described as.

[BRBrony9]

9737853
Well, the road ahead is long and winding, who can say what will happen before the end? I will say, though, that there are plenty of OCs and humans who might meet a sad end- or might not!

[BRBrony9]

9740255
They use (or at least I use in this story) miles for relatively 'short' distances in an astronomical sense, i.e. within a star system. For travel between systems etc. they would use light years and parsecs.

[Bronzer]

9738575
Because 40k.

I suspect the ponies and griffins, or at least ponies, won’t have enough left to repopulate without inbreeding killing them off anyway. Maybe the Imperium will have to help with that in some way, like gene therapy on foals to make their genes dissimilar enough for healthy reproduction.

Grimdark.

[Basilisk]

Oh my god, here I am thinking I'm getting to the end of the story, only to come to find there are more chapters ahead than I've already read through.

Well fuck me, I guess I'm not finishing this tonight.