Strange Bedfellows

by BRBrony9

A New Threat

Princess Luna's message send a thrill of shock through her sister. Twilight, taken? There was no proof, but Luna believed, based on the events outside Manehattan, that the Changelings were most likely responsible. Celestia agreed, though she could not rule out that the human enemy had taken her. After all, one of her initial fears had been that the enemy had come for the Elements. Could it not be possible that they had finally been able to obtain one?

But with the sudden attack by the Changelings, the coincidence was too great. Both incidents occurred within a short space of time, and it seemed exactly the kind of plan Chrysalis might enact- kill the princess, capture the elements, capitalise on the fact that the human invasion had totally distracted everypony's attention from their existing problems, and their existing enemies. The Changelings were opportunists, and what better opportunity had they ever been presented with than the decimation of the Equestrian military and the focus of its survivors being on an entirely different threat?

With operations still ongoing in Manehattan, Celestia decided to remain with the airships and leave her sister in command of Canterlot. The humans were requested to provide additional troops to bolster the garrison, while pony guards were doubled. The remaining Elements were moved, and sequestered deep within the palace- not quite as plush as their state rooms, but safer, with a round-the-clock guard kept on their quarters. Even though the Elements themselves were useless without their sixth component, it would be far easier to recover one than to have to recover them all should any further raids take place.They did not know the location of the current Changeling Hive, but they knew the location of the previous one, and she ordered a unit of the elite Special Tasks Group of the Pegasi assault forces to proceed immediately and investigate the old site, in case any clue could be found as to where the Changelings had relocated to. It was a slim chance, but one that had to be grasped at. Twilight, and more importantly her Element, had to be found and recovered.

Celestia was reluctant to discuss too much about the Elements over the human communication system, and so at the conclusion of her conversation she dispatched another messenger Pegasus to Canterlot with further instructions. She had played her trump card already by demonstrating her control of the sun to the human commanders, but the Elements could be the ace in the hole. The humans knew nothing about them. If she were somehow incapacitated, the six young mares charged with Equestria's defence might just be able to use the Elements in a similar fashion.

Might.

The hours of darkness in Manehattan were passed mostly in a state of fraught tension. Every small creak of damaged steelwork, every rodent skittering across broken glass, could be an enemy, and it kept the guardsmen on alert. An attack could come from anywhere at any time. Gunfire crackled in the distance, proving the point.

But the Parvian Lancers had a quiet night. Before the sun set, their armoured reinforcements had pushed back into the city square and pummeled the two surviving theatre buildings, destroying the enemy resistance within. A few scattered survivors had tried to flee, but the tank gunners were unmerciful.

The survivors of Gamma Company had helped to occupy the square as night fell, securing it and setting up defences. The command squad and Lieutenant Albrecht had rejoined them, having sought shelter in a nearby building during the enemy bayonet charge. The expected night attack never materialised, and in the early hours, just before dawn, they received orders to move, back onto the offensive. The noose was tightening around the Archenemy forces, pushing them deeper into the city with their backs to the sea. They had no way out, no recourse but to continue the battle, and if anything was to redouble a man's will to fight, it was the knowledge that the alternative was certain death. The next day and night had been spent pushing on, street by street, yard by yard. It was tough, gruelling work, but it was necessary. The following dawn saw the fighting shift yet again.

Sergeant Argan and his squad were no longer at the tip of the spear. There were several platoons ahead of them, along with Leman Russ tanks and the replacement Demolisher. The fighting was moving into the warehouse and manufactory district surrounding the dockyards- no more high-rise buildings, but sprawls of two or three-storey brick industrial structures and vast storage sheds. In peacetime, the alleys and concrete aprons would echo with the click-clack of hooves and wagon wheels, the continuous hammering of the blacksmiths, the grinding and whirring of the factory floor. Now it was silent, save for the rumble of the tanks rolling ahead of them. It reminded Argan of the similar industrial districts of home, except that they were clustered not around the quayside, but around the spaceport, both for suborbital trips between major cities on bulk haulers and aerostats, and into orbit aboard the lighters and shuttles that fed the gargantuan interstellar transports that would cluster in low orbit waiting for their holds to be filled.

They were still a mile or more from the edge of the city, where it met the water, but the enemy must be closeby. There was not a huge area of city left that they could hide in- the Imperials controlled all of the outer districts. The great curve of the natural harbour stretched out to the north and south, still in enemy hands, but beyond isolated pockets of resistance here and there, the rest of Manehattan had been taken. There could be no celebration, however, until every last one of the enemy had been hunted down and slaughtered like the dogs they were, trapped inside their cage of their own making.

The tanks leading the way, escorted by most of Alpha Company, moved cautiously, barrels scanning from side to side. There were innumerable doorways, loading hatches, alleyways and cellars from which a missile or melta-bomb could spring without warning. Even more than the rest of the city, the industrial quarter was an absolute warren of confusing twists and turns, seemingly built without any clear street plan in mind. Here, a storehouse giving off a distinct aroma of fish rose three storeys almost directly from the kerb. There, a small wagon repair firm operated out of a squat building set a considerable distance back from the road, with a front yard considerably larger than the business itself, with half a dozen wagons of varying size parked up in it.

Squads of men moved carefully through the warehouses and store rooms, making sure the enemy were not lying in wait until the column had passed, sweeping each sector as thoroughly as they could. Reports over the vox indicated heavy fighting in the northern sectors and ordered all units to remain on high alert.

It was sound advice. The lead tank was just approaching a small bridge that crossed another street passing below. An infantry squad ranged ahead, checking the bridge for demolition charges. The tank halted momentarily to await the all-clear, and it was long enough.

Missiles flew from several side alleys, deliberately chosen in the hope that the unmined bridge would nevertheless provoke just such caution in just such a spot. The lead tank was struck on both sponsons almost simultaneously. A dozen wooden hatchways on several warehouses were flung open, and amid the panicked shouts of contact, las-fire began to rain down upon the column.

Men ducked into cover, behind the tanks, behind the wagons, the coal bunkers and stacks of lumber. The tanks bringing up the rear began to engage the enemy, heavy bolters ripping open the wooden sides of the two buildings. Lasguns flashed from below, and within moments the two buildings were starting to burn, dozens of spot fires being started by laser and shell alike. The lead tank added to the cacophony by exploding with an ear-splitting crack, its turret spinning off and landing on the cobbles with a mighty clang, spraying burning debris across the street.

Farther back down the line, Argan and first squad were not the direct subject of the enemy's fury. The Sergeant, Merkev, and two other men dropped into cover behind a pile of metal rails, ready for shipment to some railroad project somewhere. Argan was mindful of the rear, glancing back to make sure the enemy were not trying to move around behind them, though other platoons and indeed the entirety of Epsilon Company were performing rearguard duties. A few stray shots struck the metal rails, the heat quickly disfiguring the pristine finish, rivulets of molten iron dripping down. The two other tanks at the front of the column, including the Demolisher, were quickly reversing, while more missiles streaked in, missing their target and exploding in a shower of shrapnel against the concrete surface of the road.

What didn't miss were the melta-bombs tossed from the upper floors. Even as the outer walls were being shredded around them, alert Chaos infantry were able to fling their devices onto the turret roof or rear engine deck of the tanks. Penned in by the heavy gunfire, their escorting infantry could only bring down a few of the would-be bombers, leaving the others with a free hand. Both tanks erupted into flame, the fusion charges melting through their armour. They both exploded, killing most of what remained of Alpha Company in a lethal hail of shrapnel.

But the Chaos ambush, either through negligence or design, had a side effect. Debris from the burning tanks, heavy las-fire and high-explosive rounds had ignited both buildings, and the wooden frames, coated in many places with grease, animal fat or tar, began to burn fiercely. Choking smoke filled the street, wafting down and flowing over the guardsmen like a fog, a gentle onshore breeze fanning the flames. The wind fanned the flames still further, and some of the Chaos survivors, having escaped the onslaught of shells from the rear escort tanks, found themselves in the midst of an inferno. Brands and embers from the two buildings carried on the wind, landing and settling in a hundred other spots, and the harbour district was awash with things that would burn easily. It was the reason for the city's possession of so many powerful fireboats and high-pressure hose companies, Manehattan having a long history of stubborn pier fires, tricky blazes in the holds of the steamships that serviced them, and major conflagrations that burned up a city block or so before being contained.

Rope, stacks of wood, crates of cloth and hemp and dyes, dried and cured meats, barrels of strong alcohol and beer, paint, creosote and bleach, oil, coal. All the components an industrial society needed to function, and almost of of them highly flammable. Spot fires popped up all across the surrounding streets. Even as the ambushers tried to flee from the flames, the combined effects of the fire and the barrage of tank shells and bolt-rounds proved too much for the warehouses. Within a few seconds of each other, both structures collapsed with loud groans, falling in on themselves and crushing the few enemy infantry still alive. Timbers cracked and snapped as the rooftops caved in. sending great plumes of sparks into the sky and drifting across the street. Where each one landed, a tiny fire started. Most fire-prevention methods had been ruined by the occupying forces, with doors being left open, drawing in fuel for the fire, junk scattered over floors as the men had searched eagerly for alcohol or valuable trinkets, and sprinkler systems damaged by vandalism or drunken target practice with autoguns.

Argan and the rest of his platoon moved back, as the flames were starting to lick at the building next to them. They could make no further progress. A general order went up from company command to pull back out of the danger zone. The fires were clearly spreading rapidly, hungry to burn anything it could touch and fuelled by such a heavy fire load in the industrial district. Visibility was down to a few dozen feet with sparks showering down across them, and even if they could see, it would be suicide to advance headlong into a fire front, and so they retreated back into the business and theatre districts, which were built with non-flammable metal, glass and concrete rather than wood and brick. As the men watched the fire continued to grow, spreading to half a dozen nearby buildings, all of wood or partial wood construction, all extra fuel for the flames that threatened to grow into a conflagration. Smoke was already towering like a thunderhead above the city. There were several miles of similar conditions all along the dockyard district. If the fire was not stopped, then it could spread into a firestorm, and turn the eastern end of the city into a hellscape.

A warning was sent to all friendly units pushing in from all three flanks. The fire was jumping from building to building, street to street, with an alarming rapidity, moving north and threatening the Imperial forces attacking from that direction also. If the city were at peace, the entire fire brigade would be hard-pressed to contain the spread, using every engine, every pump and every fireboat available to them. As it was, there was nothing and no one left now to fight it. The dockyard belonged to the flames.

'My Lord, the Ferrus Terra is hailing us.' The call from the vox-officer made Lord-Admiral Marcos look up from his daily reports.

'Put them through to my ready room, and summon the Lord-General to join me,' he ordered, leaving the bridge and entering the chamber off to the side. He paced up and down a little before Galen arrived, pulled away from the holotable as the battle below had stalled. He opened the vox-channel.

'Lord-Admiral, Arch-Magos Darius here,' came the familiar metallic voice. 'We have completed our autopsy and analysis of the corpses recovered from the assassination site.'

'And your conclusions, Magos?' Marcos asked. 'Please speak freely, only myself and the Lord-General are present.'

'Our conclusions are detailed. A full report will be transmitted to you via secure encrypted frequency shortly. In summary, the basic biology of the Changeling species appears to be broadly similar to that of the Pony species. They are both quadrupedal ungulates, with similarly sized brains and almost identical internal organs. All three specimens possess both cranial horns and dorsal wings, though unlike the Pony specimens, their wings appear insectoid in nature, being composed of integument and internal veins rather than the birdlike feathers and hollow bones the Ponies possess. Despite some insectoid qualities, the Changelings appear to be a variant of the genus Equus, just as the Ponies are.'

'So they're related species?' Galen asked.

'They are from the same genus, but the two species are not necessarily directly related. One did not necessarily evolve from the other,' Darius explained. 'Consider humanity versus the Eldar, for example. Both have very similar external appearances, and many internal similarities, but are unrelated. A crude analogy, to be sure, but apt for this discussion.'

Galen and Marcos shared a frown, as both were sure they had just been on the receiving end of a cheap Mechanicus insult. The Lord-Admiral posited the next question.

'Did you find any evidence of psychic activity? They were reported to be shapeshifters.'

'We found no markers or trace elements that would indicate that they possess psyker capabilities as we understand the term,' the Magos replied, 'but their horns give off high readings of the unknown particles we detected from orbit. Their brains also contain large quantities, both in a similar fashion to the horned Ponies we dissected previously.'

'So...their horns act as a conduit for this energy?' Marcos asked. 'Like how a Librarian of the holy Astartes might use a Force Staff?'

'Similar, Lord-Admiral, yes,' Darius answered. 'Though again, not quite accurate, as force weapons merely enhance physical blows with psychic energy. These horns appear to act as the physical producer of the energy itself, or at least the transfer of it from the neurons of the brain into the outside world. The study to determine exactly which is ongoing. Now that we have another species with which to make a direct comparison, we have created a broad algorithm that can convert the amount of this unknown particle present into a representation of equivalent psychic power. We have determined that these Changelings broadly align with the horned soldiers of the Pony army that we examined. Their average power, based on our preliminary calculations, is roughly similar to that of the average sanctioned psyker used by the Imperial Guard.'

'You have a reading of their princess when she came on board this ship,' Marcos pointed out. 'Can you extrapolate her power in a similar way?'

'Yes, Lord-Admiral. We have done so, though the precise nature of the particles she gave off were subtly different to those produced by these Changelings, or the horned Ponies. As you are no doubt aware, the power needed to control a star in such a way is astronomical. If our calculations are correct, then her psychic power is beyond anything known to any but the few most potent psykers in the Imperium's history.' That was a report that disturbed, but hardly surprised, Marcos.

'All psykers have a presence in the warp, and have to be on constant guard against the threats therein,' Marcos pointed out. 'But...something was reported to me, by Chief Navigator Pericles. Our arrival into this system was eased because of the presence of a...an anomaly.'

'Anomaly?' Darius queried. 'Our sensors detected no such anomaly, beyond the unknown particles.'

'I imagine the two are linked, Magos,' the Lord-Admiral replied. 'Pericles and the other Navigators all reported some kind of beacon, so to speak, something helping to guide us to this place. But what was intriguing was that they all reported it as being not a signal within the warp, like the Astronomican, but rather a signal outside of the warp, pushing in, leaving an imprint without actually being present in the Immaterium at all.'

There were several notable seconds of silence from the Arch-Magos before his reply. 'You believe the Xenos Princess to be responsible for this anomaly?'

'Not necessarily, but given the power we have seen her display, is it beyond reason to suggest that it may be the case?' Marcos argued. 'I see no reason to doubt the word of Navigator Pericles, especially now that we have evidence of this unknown particle, and evidence of at least one extremely powerful psyker being present on this planet.'

'But why would she guide us safely here?' Galen pondered. 'She told us she desires peace, so if she has that power, why not throw us off course harmlessly to keep her world a secret?'

'It is conceivable,' Darius responded, 'that she is not aware of her impact upon the warp. Given that, if the Navigator is correct, she apparently has no presence within it, but rather exerts a pressure from the outside, it may well be possible that she is inadvertently causing this phenomenon, merely from her presence here.'

'But how can she have no presence in the warp if she is in possession of such psychic power?' the Lord-General asked the pointed question.

'That is unknown at the present time,' Darius answered it. 'However, based on the detection of the unknown particle and its association with her presence and the presence of these horned Ponies and Changelings, it would be logical to conclude that this particle is somehow responsible for the powers they display. Thus, I posit that their powers are not truly psychic, but are of some related but distinct form.'

'Like what? Magic?' Galen scoffed.

'In a crude manner of speaking, Lord-General, yes,' Darius replied. 'Like magic.'

Hours, days, weeks. Twilight Sparkle did not know how long she had been imprisoned. The cell was dark, the hive below ground, making it impossible to tell if it was day or night. For a while she had tried counting the minutes by the regular drip drip drip of water nearby, but the slightest loss of concentration or misjudgement meant starting again, and she soon gave up. The monotony was only interrupted every so often, twice or three times a day perhaps, she guessed, when a hatch in the lower part of the door would open and two small, battered metal bowls would be slid through, one with bread and some kind of gruel or oat stew, and one with water. All the loneliness gave her plenty of time to think about her family and friends, but it also allowed her to ruminate on the plan laid out by Chrysalis.

It was an absurd plan, full of the usual grandiose bombast she would expect from one of Equestria's old foes. But this time was somehow different. If the Queen was correct in her assessment, and in the facts she had spouted about the humans and the ability of the Changelings to impersonate them so successfully, then it was possible that her plan, however unlikely it may have sounded, could come to fruition.

If it did, if it all came together, if things worked in her favour, then the outcome would be terrifying, impossible to conceive. Not just a nation, not just a planet, but an entire galaxy lay before the Changelings, previously completely unreachable but now, with Imperial ships in orbit, a pathway had been opened. If what Chrysalis claimed about absorbing the memories of these humans was actually true, then, if the Changelings could infiltrate even one Imperial starship, there was a very real possibility that they could take control of it, either through impersonating key members of the crew, or by killing the entire crew and replacing them, confident in the knowledge that they would be able to fly and fight the ship, technology otherwise completely alien to them.

Most pony biologists agreed with Chrysalis' claims in that there was a direct correlation between the amount of love available to the Changelings and their numbers. The army that attacked Canterlot was in the tens of thousands, fuelled by the love and goodwill of a nation towards its newest royal couple, a well-loved and generous princess and a brave and dutiful hero of the Royal Guard. Compared to a skeleton force that had struck at Vanhoover several years earlier, when the Equestrian harvest was weak, the threat of Nightmare Moon was being made real, and Twilight had not yet begun her directed campaign to spread the power of friendship across the land, the difference was clear to see. That was with a few million happy ponies. Assuming human emotion worked in the same way, which Chrysalis evidently believed to be the case, untold trillions of this new species would provide unimaginable power for the Queen to absorb. If she could temporarily incapacitate, if not outright defeat, Celestia with just the love of a husband for his bride-to-be and the goodwill of a city, what could stand in her way with the love energy of an entire galaxy on her side?

There was a disquieting taste in Twilight's mouth, and not just from the gruel. She had no idea how true the Queen's claims were, but so far as she knew, nobody else, pony or human, knew of her plans, even if they knew of Changeling involvement in the battle for the planet, and if nobody knew, then how would they stop her?

The door clanked and clanged, opening, flooding light into her sensitive eyes and half-blinding her, shaking her from her reverie. Two Changeling guards, brutish in both appearance and manner, stepped forcefully into the cell. One of them unshackled her manacles from the wall, while the other pulled her roughly to her feet.

'Come,' he grunted, tongue flicking and hissing sinisterly. 'The interrogation chamber is waiting for you...'

Comments

[Warrior of Virtue]

Surprised none of them suggested that the Changlings might have been a new breed of Lacrymol.

[Animatorsnake]

Okay, at this point I think Chrysalis is delusional, there is nothing to be happy or any loving emotion in the W40k universe, the joy in bloodlust, sexual desire, and undying faith to serve some being placed on a pedestal... none of it is close to the love described by Twilight or in the show. So either the "love" Chrysalis is referring to is small remnants within each human then maybe, if not that then Chrysalis is just assuming the universe is just like their home planet... which they are sorely mistaken.

[Bronzer]

Just use macro cannons to collapse ever tunnel and cave and cavern on the planet.

but the Elements could be the ace in the hole

Her demonstration with the Sun is insufficient to quickly take down Imperial ships (that is, quickly enough for them to not simply glass her or destabilize the star). Her Elements are useless against anything not disharmonious. The Imperials are not disharmonious: people defending themselves and their species are pretty much guaranteed not to register as enemies to the Elements. The changlings, dunno, but they were acting out of avarice rather than any need for sustenance.

the human invasion

Ah, she still doesn’t understand. It is not a “human” invasion, it is a Chaos invasion.

Like what? Magic?' Galen scoffed

I don’t understand why you have the Imperials not believing in magic. Sorcery is common in 40k and does not require a psyker.

that she is not aware of her impact upon the warp

No, it’s either the Elements (the relics) or the Tree of Harmony. It is ridiculous to think Celestia, far weaker than either, is the presence instead of those vastly more powerful subjects.

[Bronzer]

9988633
It wouldn’t matter anyway, since every Imperial is always paranoid as fuck.

[sykko]

I'd like to see Chrysalis try an take over Necron tomb world. At best she'd wind as a display in Trazyn's collection. Speaking of which, isn't it a little odd that our favorite hoarder hasn't scooped up a few pieces for his collection?