With A Mighty Roar
The air was thick with dust, cloying, choking. Twilight could see nothing, wracked with coughs and shaking from the sudden catastrophe. The ceiling had come down, at least part of it. They had been close- so close- to safety. They could see the light from Celestia's sun, shining through, into the tunnel. The tunnel that had been denied to them at the last moment, the tumbling rocks surely blocking their passage. Twilight coughed, tried to get to her hooves, failed. She couldn't see anything. It was almost completely black, everywhere around her.
Then suddenly, lancing out of the darkness, a light, stabbing through the Stygian surroundings. Then another, and another. Flashlights, like lighthouses in the torturous maelstrom of thought and doubt that engulfed her. She felt hooves upon her, and saw the concerned face of Arcwing, her escort.
'Are you hurt?' he asked, repeating his entreaty a moment later when she did not reply. Twilight shook her head.
'I'm ok...' she replied plaintively. 'I'm ok...'
Arcwing nodded and helped her to stand. There were more lights now, dozens of them, criss-crossing the blackness. The collapse had not wiped out the assault force, as Twilight had feared, but it had blocked them off from the surest exit from the Hive. To add to their problems, the sinister glow of rising magma came from behind, at the head of the tunnel they had just left. They were trapped between a literal rock and a hard place, with seemingly no way out of their predicament.
Ponies were scrambling through the rubble, looking for fallen comrades. Surely those at the head of the column had been crushed to death by the masses of tumbling debris that had rained down from the ceiling. The rest of the raiding party crowded into the chamber as the tunnel behind flooded with magma. More tremors continued to shake them as the search proceeded at a frantic pace. If any rescues were to be made, they would have to be made quickly. Time was very short; further collapses could happen at any time, and the magma rising to their rear would imperil them soon enough. The volcano itself could erupt at any time, and that could well be the end of them.
Several ponies were pulled from the rubble, coughing and wincing. They were banged up but had suffered only minor injuries. Torch beams flashed across the chamber. Right at the front of the chamber, they were searching for their leader. It did not take long for them to find her. Mercifully, Spitfire was mostly unhurt, apart from a few scratches and bruises, injuries she shared with many of her unit. The rocks had fallen around her, but nothing had landed on top of her except for dust and earth. She stood and brushed herself down, her uniform stained with dirt. It was clear, however, that not all of the ponies had been so lucky.
Several lay beneath heavy boulders, quite obviously dead, their bodies crushed and broken, limbs twisted and snapped in twain, skulls smashed open despite the helmets they all wore. Blood stained the ground. Elsewhere, ponies were trapped, but alive. Several were freed by other uninjured ponies lifting the rocks that pinned them down, none the worse for wear for their experience. One particularly unlucky pony, however, became the focus of attention.
The young stallion, a member of the Assault Infantry, was stuck. A huge lump of rock, more a mountain in itself than a mere boulder, had fallen intact from the cavern roof, crushing an entire squad beneath its bulk. All were dead, save for the ashen-faced stallion. His black coat and his uniform were flecked with blood, while his hind legs were both trapped beneath the debris, badly mangled. To free somepony from such entrapment would take time, patience, and equipment. A fire department rescue company could do it, specialist mine rescue teams could do it. Soldiers, ill-equipped for the task, could not. The rock was simply too large. Only magic had any hope of lifting it free, and the effort required would be huge. For Twilight, in her current state, it would probably kill her.
Spitfire hurried over to the entrapment. The stallion was coughing weakly, and another was giving him water. If they could free him quickly, he would probably live; he had only been trapped for moments, not long enough for crush syndrome to set in, and his vital organs were not in danger. But they had no lifting gear, no cranes, no straps and bracing, no hydraulic jacks or lifting airbags. All they had was wingpower, and it would not be enough.
'What's your name, son?' Spitfire asked, kneeling down beside the victim.
'Skybolt, ma'am...' he replied. 'Private, first class, 2nd Battalion, 4th Aerial Regiment, 2nd Assault Infantry Division.'
Spitfire nodded. 'We're going to get you out. Don't worry,' she assured him, drawing a few glances from the others who gathered round. She had no idea how they were going to do it, but she told him anyway. 'We'll get you out. Do you want morphine?' she asked. There were several medics hovering, waiting to treat him. He nodded slowly.
'Y-yes, ma'am...my legs...' Spitfire gestured to the nearest medic, who withdrew a small syrette from his pouch, flipping off the plastic cover and exposing the sharp needle. Ordinarily, the injection would be made into the flank or the top of the hind leg, but with that option off the table, the medic stuck the needle into Skybolt's upper foreleg instead. While the medic tended to him, Spitfire turned away to speak with the officers around her, including the other medic.
'Options?' she questioned.
'There's no way we can lift it, ma'am,' one of them, a Captain, replied. 'Nothing to grip onto. Maybe if we could get everypony lifting at once, but this thing must weigh a good fifty tons.'
'Can we shatter part of it?' somepony else suggested. 'Chipping away at it...crowbars, maybe...'
Spitfire shook her head. 'No time for that. We have to act fast.' She glanced back the way they had come, spotting the disquieting sight of fresh magma now oozing from the tunnel entrance and working its way across the chamber floor, slowly, like treacle. The floor had a natural depression in its centre, like a shallow ditch, which was helping to funnel the magma along. Unfortunately, it was funnelling it straight towards Skybolt.
'Doc?' Spitfire turned to the medic, while her fellow continued to treat the trapped pony. 'Any ideas?'
'If we need to get him out in a hurry, then there's only one way,' she replied softly. 'We'll have to amputate. Both legs.'
'How long will it take?' Spitfire questioned, through necessity dispatching with any emotion in her voice.
'We don't have the proper tools...I guess it'd take ten minutes...maybe more...' the medic replied. 'We'll just have to give him more morphine, have ponies hold him down...it's the only way we're getting him out of there at all.'
'Do you have anything you can use?' Spitfire asked. 'Nopony has a sword...can you do the job with a combat knife?'
'Just about...' the medic answered. 'But it'll take time.'
'I don't know how long you've got,' Spitfire replied. 'Get a move on.' She stepped back over to Skybolt, who was lying on his side, his hind legs squashed beneath the rock. 'Hang in there, son. They're gonna get you out. The medics are...working on something...uh...' Confronted with the plaintive expression of the young stallion, Spitfire found her customary composure and calm fluctuating somewhat. Death and injury was a part of the life of any military pony, but there was something pathetic about Skybolt's plight, something that touched a nerve in her. If he had been trapped as the result of a mining accident or a building collapse, he could be rescued, if not at leisure, then at least at a steady pace that would ensure his safety and the safety of the rescuers. Floodlights and cranes could be set up, proper medical care administered, and the debris would be lifted carefully off of him. Practised hooves would slide him onto a stretcher, load him into an ambulance wagon, and he would be trotted straight to hospital. With surgery, perhaps his legs could be saved. But there could be none of that here. Instead, his legs would be cut off, or else he would suffer a horrific end. It was not a choice that anypony would want to have to make on behalf of another, or for themselves, but Spitfire had ordered the medics to prepare for it. There was no other way.
'I want you to listen to me carefully,' Spitfire spoke directly to Skybolt. 'Now, you know as well as I do that we're on the clock here. This volcano might go off at any minute, and we need to find a way out of here. We can't...we can't lift this rock, even if we had time. It's just too big.' Skybolt nodded slowly, realisation perhaps beginning to dawn on him with a horrifying swiftness. Spitfire continued. 'We need to get you out from under there, and the only...the only way we can do it...I've talked to the medics. They're going to have to...amputate.'
Skybolt's already ashen features were drained of all colour in the harsh brightness of the torch beams. He swallowed deeply. 'N-no...no, they can't...you can't...'
'I'm sorry, son. It's the only way we can get you out,' Spitfire spoke softly. 'If we had a crane we could lift this thing, but it's just too heavy. We can't do anything else. It's the only way.'
'W-what about her?' Skybolt jabbed a hoof in the general direction of Twilight. 'She's a unicorn! She can use her magic!'
'She's too weak,' Spitfire replied. 'We only just rescued her from a torture chamber. I can't ask her to risk herself. This rock would tax anypony, and the mental shock of such effort would...' She was cut off by a voice from the darkness.
'Let me try.'
Spitfire looked around. Twilight, having been made aware of the situation and the plight of the trapped pony, had overheard Spitfire's conversation with Skybolt, and now she stepped forward. 'Let me try...you all came down here just to rescue me, so the least I can do is try to rescue one of you.'
'Twilight...' Spitfire stood back up. 'This rock must weigh fifty tons or more. You're not in any fit state to...'
The unicorn interrupted her again. 'Let me try!' she repeated, more forcefully. 'I can't just stand here and watch. We're running out of time.'
Spitfire hardly needed to be reminded of that fact. The sinister presence of the rising magma, and the heat that could be felt from it even at a distance, was proof enough that the clock was running down rapidly. Twilight might be able to lift the rock, free Skybolt, and save his legs. On the other hoof, if she failed, then precious time would have been wasted and the medics would have to work doubly fast to perform their grizzly task instead. She took Twilight aside to speak to her quietly.
'Twilight...you're weak,' she informed her bluntly. 'You're tired, dehydrated, malnourished...this is a big bucking rock. Now if you honestly think you can do it, then I'll let you try. But if you have any doubts then we can't waste time.'
Twilight nodded, and pondered for a moment. 'I...I think I can. My magic has been suppressed while I've been down here...that limiter you removed...I guess there were counterspells too. But they haven't been renewed. They've probably worn off by now, and I haven't used any magic for days. I think I can get enough strength to lift it.'
'Alright...' Spitfire returned to Skybolt. 'We're gonna try something else, son. Twilight is going to try and lift the rock. You just keep still.' She turned to the other ponies, getting them to step back, clear of the rock. Twilight moved into position. Every eye was on her. Torch beams illuminated her, Skybolt, and the full size of the huge boulder she had to lift.
Though she had been imprisoned, tortured and deprived, Twilight still remembered her magic, her abilities, and her compassion. Here was a pony who needed her help. He could not simply be left down here in the Hive. She had seen the dead, those who had lost their lives to save hers, and it had driven her sense of inadequacy. She did not deserve such suffering to see her safe. Ponies had died to free her; her, nopony else. She had to act, she simply had to, or else she would not be worthy of such salvation.
Twilight looked at the boulder. She looked at Skybolt. It was big, and he was in pain. She knew what she had to do. Her horn began to flicker, to spark, and finally to glow. It was a faint glow, but her aura enveloped the huge chunk of stone. Twilight's eyes narrowed. She had a task, she had a target, and she was determined. The boulder began to twitch, to shake slightly, to lift up. It rose, slowly, steadily, a few inches, not quite enough to pull Skybolt to safety. She pushed harder, straining. A little more would see him free. She was sure she could do it. It was tough, but she had to keep trying. She had to succeed, to repay the sacrifices these ponies had made in freeing her from her prison.
But the rock refused to budge any further. Her strength was all but spent. She just could not do any more. It was too heavy, and she was too weak. The rock began to sag, to drop back down, despite giving her all. She could hold it up no longer, and it fell to the ground, inflicting further pain upon Skybolt, who howled in agony as his legs were crushed again. Twilight sank to the floor, caught by Arcwing, almost unconscious. Her efforts had drained her completely of what little vigour she had left after her confinement. All she knew was that she had failed.
Spitfire ordered the medics to get to work on Skybolt immediately. The delay, as she had feared, had resulted in the magma flow edging ever closer to the obstruction in its path. More morphine was administered in an attempt to numb the pain that would follow. The medics tried to explain as calmly as possible to the poor stallion what was going to happen, but it just made his terror more evident to those around him. They were going to cut, or at least try to cut, his legs right off, with no proper surgical equipment, lit only by the beams from helmet-mounted torches, with only a modicum of pain relief. Giving him too much morphine would kill him as surely as leaving him there would.
One of the medics used scissors to cut away the material of Skybolt's uniform to expose his hind legs.There was no way that a combat knife could cut through the femur, but luckily the edge of the rock pinning him curved up just enough for them to reach a point just below the stifle joint of each limb, where the bones of the lower leg were much thinner. His legs were a mangled mess, and only complex and intensive surgery had any hope of saving either of them. With no other options, they would have to act.
Two other ponies were summoned to hold Skybolt down in case he thrashed out. Twilight, slowly recovering from pushing her body to its limits, was able to sit up, with Arcwing supporting her. She could hear the groans and protestations of Skybolt as the medics worked on him, and she knew she had failed. She had tried, and been found wanting. He was still trapped, and she had wasted time in her futile efforts. She found that she could not even look at Skybolt.
'You gave it a damn good try,' Spitfire spoke to her, having appeared suddenly beside her. 'Don't beat yourself up about it. I've seen that look before and it doesn't end well.'
'But it's my fault...' Twilight muttered, bringing a stern rebuke from the experienced officer.
'It's not your fault. Believe me, when it's your fault, you'll know that it was your fault. But something like this, you can never predict. You didn't bring that rock down, and you did all you could to try and help, even though you can barely stand. In my book, I'd say that makes you pretty brave, don't you think?'
Twilight didn't reply. Spitfire's words still rang hollow to her. She may not have caused the earthquake that weakened the ceiling and brought down the rock, but if they had no been here to rescue her, then they would not be trapped, Skybolt would not be about to have his legs cut off, and the ponies they had left behind in the lower chambers would still be alive.
One of the braver or more foolhardy ponies was handed the knife that would do the deed, and he approached the steadily flowing magma, with his gas mask protecting his face. The heat began to singe his uniform but he was able to hold the blade out as far as he could until it made contact with the bubbling mass. He held it there for as long as he dared before backing away rapidly, batting out the few smouldering patches of clothing where the heat had taken effect. Quickly returning the knife to the medics, he passed it over. The heated blade would ensure a cleaner cut and help to both sterilise and cauterise the wounds, saving precious time.
Skybolt continued his protestations, but the medics did their best to reassure him, reminding him that it was the only way. He started to sob, the plaintive sounds carrying across the chamber. Some ponies were searching for another way out, but for many, with no task at hoof, all they could do was stand and listen to his cries. One of the medics cleaned the areas around where they would cut with water. The male medic held the knife against Skybolt's left leg, and made the incision.
A sharp scream rang out around the cavern. The hot knife sank into Skybolt's flesh, cutting through his skin and singing his fur. The whole assault force was able to share in his agonies as the medic did his best to sever the limb. The combat knife was not designed for such a task; it cut through flesh easily enough, but when it reached bone it began to struggle, and the intense pain, overcoming the morphine, made Skybolt cry out almost continuously. Twilight tried to cover her ears, but it was not enough to block out the sound of her failure.
Spitfire approached the grizzly scene. 'How's it coming, doc?' she queried, with a worried eye on the magma flow.
'Slow...' the medic grunted in reply, as he worked with the blade. 'This thing isn't meant for a job like this.'
'Better step it up,' Spitfire urged him. 'You don't have long.' She moved back to let the medics work, but even as they continued to cut they could feel the heat rising from the long tongue of magma that was working its way across the chamber toward them, getting closer and closer with each passing moment.
Using the knife like a saw, the medic gnawed his way through the bone, but it was a laborious process. The serrated teeth of the knife continually caught on the surface of the bone, and, while sharp, they were not designed for cutting through something so hard. Even once he cut through the fibula, he would still have to cut through the thicker tibia before the leg would be completely amputated, and then repeat the process with the right leg.
'This is taking too long...' Spitfire muttered. She was keeping track of the magma, and it was getting worryingly close to the scene of the operation. If it got too close, the medics would have to be withdrawn for their own safety. Even as they worked feverishly to try and free the moaning Skybolt, more tremors were still bringing down torrents of dirty from above. The volcano was still enraptured in its violent throes, threatening everypony's death at any time. There still seemed to be no way out of the chamber they were all entombed within.
Finally, the medic cut through the first bone, and began working on the second. But the magma was getting ever closer, like a malevolent snake stalking its prey from behind. An enterprising effort to divert its flow, carried out by some of the Assault Infantry, involved depositing smaller rocks in its path. But the magma just carried them along instead of changing course, its inexorable advance making a mockery of the pitiful attempts to stop it.
Spitfire shook her head. 'There's no time...there's not enough time...'
Twilight still refused to look. She could not bring herself to watch somepony who had come to help her be mutilated by his own fellows because of her failure. Seeing the death and destruction in Canterlot and Cloudsdale had been different. That was more general, more impersonal. But the dead ponies here in the Hive were dead because they had come for her. If she hadn't been captured in the first place...
'That's it! Doc, get out of there,' Spitfire ordered. The magma was getting too close for comfort.
'Not yet...' the medic muttered, working hard, sweating from the heat but determined to free Skybolt. Spitfire sighed.
'Two minutes, tops!' she replied. 'Then I want you out!'
'No!' Skybolt screamed. 'Don't leave me here! Please!' he begged, in between groans from the pain of the half-completed amputation. 'You can't...'
The last thing Spitfire wanted to do was to leave him there, but if the medics couldn't free him very soon, they would have to move, or they would burn. Normally, a double amputation would be carried out one limb at a time to minimise the shock the victim would suffer. But with the threat of the magma closing in all the time, normal had to become extraordinary. The female medic, aware of the situation, grabbed her own knife. There was no time to heat it up as they had done with the other blade. It had to be applied directly and immediately. She wetted the area and the knife with some water from her canteen, and, after a few encouraging words to the victim, began to cut.
Skybolt's screams grew louder as the pain flooded through him, from both hind limbs now. They had to speed up; cutting roughly, the two medics tried valiantly to saw through the bones of his legs. But the knives were struggling, not sharp enough. It was taking too long, even at double pace. The magma flow was not slowing, not changing direction. The heat was starting to play over the medics, not quite igniting their uniforms, but close to doing so. Smoke was starting to rise from the fabric, with the magma mere feet away.
'That's enough!' Spitfire shouted. 'Get out of there!' Her shouted entreaties were ignored; both medics were intent on nothing more than freeing their patient, getting him to safety. But their own safety was in just as much jeopardy. The orange mass continued its relentless advance, like a glacier. It was moving slowly, but it was fast enough to have crossed most of the large chamber in the mere few minutes it had taken to set up and attempt to carry out the operation. There was no time left. Both of them knew it, but still they were reluctant to leave. They tried furiously to cut through the bones and free Skybolt, but they could not. They had taken too long, the magma had moved too fast, too much time had been wasted.
'Get out of there, for Celestia's sake!' Spitfire called again, and this time, the medics listened. They could feel the furnace-like heat upon their backs. A quick glance behind was enough to alert them to the futility of their continued efforts. There was no time left. Despite Skybolt's pathetic entreaties, both medics left his side, their job half done, their patient still trapped in a desperate situation.
Ponies looked on in horror as the magma flow drew closer and closer to him, close enough to singe his exposed fur. Within a minute, he would be burning alive, and shortly after that, he would be completely engulfed by the flow of molten rock.
'Help me!' he screamed desperately. 'Please! Somepony! Please...' He whimpered, a look of abject terror on his face as his death drew closer. 'Do something!'
Spitfire stepped forward. Skybolt's eyes latched onto her, seeking any tiny shred of aid or comfort as he lay at the gates of eternity. 'Help me...' he whispered.
Spitfire unslung her machine-rifle, cocking it. Skybolt's eyes widened, but then, after swallowing hard several times, and glancing at the magma flow, he nodded slowly.
'D-do it...' he begged. 'Please...!'
Spitfire raised her weapon, taking aim. Skybolt repeated his demand.
'Do it! Shoot me! Please!' The heat from the magma was blistering his exposed skin, and his uniform was starting to smoke, threatening to burst into flame at any moment. He looked Spitfire straight in the eyes. 'Please...'
Spitfire pulled the trigger, and ended his suffering.
Twilight's eyes remained firmly closed. She could not quite believe what she had just witnessed. An execution, just like those she had seen in Canterlot's palace courtyard, but this time, it had to be carried out because of her. Spitfire, and no doubt others, would try to convince her differently. But she knew deep inside. There was no denying it. She hadn't asked for help, other than in her own mind. Even when Princess Luna had contacted her through her dreams, she had not asked for help, she had not begged for rescue and salvation. But they had come for her anyway, as she knew they would, as soon as they had any indication of where she was. She knew that Celestia would not leave her, would never abandon her, and that she needed to recover the Element, too. She knew they would come for her, but that did not make the facts any easier to bear.
If only she could have done something differently. What, she didn't know, but...something. Anything. Maybe if she'd been more alert, on the ball instead of relaxed because Canterlot was theirs again. Maybe she wouldn't have been captured. She could have fought back, called for an alarm, for the guards. They could have seen off the Changelings and saved this whole mess from happening. Saved Skybolt's life, the lives of the ponies in the caverns, and of who knew how many more who might be dead or dying up on the surface. But she hadn't. She hadn't been alert, and she had let the princess down. Now, if they were trapped in the Hive, inside the volcano, then it would all be for nothing. She didn't have her Element, and she didn't know where it was. She knew that it was worth recovering, though. And she knew that, without it, she was not.
The magma cared not for her grief and trembling hooves. As Skybolt lay dead with a single bullet hole in his forehead, it crept around him like a blanket, igniting his uniform like a funeral pyre. It started to cover him, beginning with his head and moving down across his body, burning him, cooking his remains. The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Soon, his bones would be nothing more than ash, and his family would likely never learn the full truth about how or why their son died.
Twilight may have been concerned only with her own confusion and horror, but Spitfire had more to think about. They were still all trapped below ground, and they had to find a way out. If they did not, they would all likely share Skybolt's fate, buried for all eternity beneath the mountainside or washed away in a sea of molten magma. The tunnel ahead was blocked by debris that was far too heavy to shift in the time they had. The tunnel behind was clogged with magma, which continued to flow into the chamber, slowly but steadily covering the available ground they had to stand on. There was no way of measuring how long it would take for all the floor to be covered, or how long it would be until the entire chamber was filled to the ceiling with molten rock, but it was clear that time was running critically short.
Spitfire called Sunflower over, who she had set in charge of finding a way out while Spitfire was busy with the rescue efforts. 'Any luck so far?' she asked. The other mare shook her head.
'No ma'am. The tunnel is sealed up good and tight. There's rocks that must weigh a hundred tons. No way we can lift them clear. We haven't found any other tunnels or passageways out of the chamber.'
'Well, keep looking,' Spitfire ordered. 'There must be some way out of here. I don't want our mission to fail this close to the surface. We made it this far, and we're going to make it the rest of the way.'
'Yes, ma'am,' Sunflower replied, though with less confidence in her expression than Spitfire managed to display, despite the dismal situation they found themselves in. They had taken casualties, but they were relatively small so far. They had only achieved half of their objective; they had Twilight, but not the Element. While Celestia would no doubt be pleased if they brought her student to safety, she had emphasised the point that the Element was worth more than Twilight, and they had been unsuccessful in their attempts to locate it. On the other hoof, the main purpose of the infiltration mission had been to rescue Twilight. It was considered likely that she would probably be executed if the main force tried to storm the Hive, and so her rescue and extraction was the main focus of the efforts of the STG. Even though the Element had priority, they were not expected to be able to locate it so easily and swiftly, as it could be stored anywhere within the Hive. If they came across it, they were to retrieve it even at the expense of Twilight's life, or if they located it but were unable to reach it they were to note its precise position within the Hive. But they had seen neither hide nor hair of it since entering the Hive. Twilight had no idea where it might be either.
As soon as they had encountered Twilight, Spitfire had ruled out any further searches for the Element. The Hive was a maze and they had no idea where they would be going in any case. She had decided they would get Twilight to the surface as soon as possible, and that was what they were trying to achieve. But it was not proving easy. They had been close, so close. They could see the light of the sun ahead, before the promise was snatched away from them. Spitfire was as much angry as anything. To get so close and be denied was frustrating in the extreme. She had been entrusted with a task by Celestia herself, and she simply refused to think about letting the princess down. She would make sure Twilight reached safety. They would find a way out. They had to.
High above the mountains, hanging in the void of space, the Emperor's judgement was watching. Commissar Birbeck's apparent snub when he arrived at Canterlot to find the princess absent had raised the curiosity of Lord-Admiral Marcos. Airship movement from the city had been reported the previous night, but that was hardly a surprise or a novelty. Pony airships came and went of their own volition all the time, at the behest of the princess or their military commanders. The Imperial observers had reported the departures but paid little attention to them. The princess had said, after all, that her scouts would be heading off to check out the potential Hive the Imperial scans had detected. No doubt that was where the airships were going. However, when the spotter team, Atter and Mons, assigned to the pony flagship, had reported in for their routine check and announced that they had been disembarked and left in Canterlot as the Starswirl proceeded north, Marcos felt sure that something was afoot, though he did not know what. The Starswirl was not a scout ship. It was a battleship; not exactly suited to a reconnaissance mission. So where was it going, and why had the spotters been left out of the loop?
The Imperial forces were licking their wounds after the catastrophe at Ponyville. The wounded had been tended to, the dead, those that could be found, had been buried, and the battle plans had been withdrawn. The wait for the waters to recede was underway, but the town was still flooded to a depth of a few feet, minimum. The Imperial line had been advanced beyond Ponyville, with the new axis aimed at Baltimare, which would be the subject of their next attack once sufficient forces had been assembled. Ponyville had been surrounded and would be fully cleared once it was dry enough to enter safely. In the meantime, all they could do was wait.
The fleet in orbit lacked the capacity to properly observe the entire continent; there were too few surviving warships, and the transports lacked suitable Auspex equipment for ground surveillance. As a result they had not been able to track the airships once they had departed Canterlot. Nor had they been able to observe every pony city from orbit. Only those in the possession of the enemy were deemed worthy of coverage, and Vanhoover was not one of them. Nor was Las Pegasus. One spot that had been kept under observation, however, was the volcano.
The thermal scans of the surrounding area had detected the appearance of numerous large, relatively warm objects, standing out against the coolness of the background. The northern climes must experience relatively low temperatures, judging by the snow that capped the surrounding peaks. It had rapidly been determined that the objects in question were pony airships, coming not just from the southeast, from Canterlot, but from other points of the compass as well. The sensors also picked up several thousand smaller heat sources; ponies, marching in formation. Something was clearly going down in that area. It appeared that the Equestrian military intended to attack the Hive, not merely observe it, as Celestia had suggested.
Marcos had the feeling he had been hoodwinked, but he could not quite fathom how or why. If the ponies had indeed discovered the Changeling Hive, why would they not simply be content to let the Imperium take the strain, the way they had against the Chaos troops? Why would they be moving a large part of their surviving forces to seemingly engage the Changelings in open battle? For there could be no other reason for the sudden arrival of so many airships and several columns of infantry. They intended to either besiege the Hive, or to invade it.
Marcos did not know what Celestia's intentions were. She had said a scouting force would be sent; instead, she had sent an army. But why? As Marcos had made clear, an orbital strike was ruled out due to the tectonic instability, but why would she not let Marauders pound the area with ground-penetrating bombs and incendiary rockets? What did she hope to gain by assaulting the Hive, if indeed it was a Hive, with her own forces? Was it just some kind of statement of intent, a display of force, either for the Imperials or for the other races on the planet? Or was there something else?
Marcos could only see one reason for conducting a direct assault. There was something in the Hive that she wanted, or needed. What that might be, he could only guess. The Changelings, according to the princess, used almost no technology. They had what they called magic, but so did the ponies. What else was there? All he could think of was that she wanted to capture the Changeling Queen, for propaganda purposes. Not content to have her burn in an Imperial air raid, that would not be enough. But to capture her, hold a show trial, parade her before the citizenry, and execute her? Display her head on a pike as a warning to all the other races as to what happens if you mess with Equestria?
But that hardly seemed to fit with the princess he had come to know over the past few weeks. If she were that vindictive, she would have carried out that possibility before now, either with the Queen or with someone else, perhaps the Griffon King; apparently they had been at war not all that long ago. Celestia seemed to hold no true malice, no real hatred, even for her sworn enemy, a remarkable condition and, Marcos reasoned, given all that he had seen across the galaxy in his career, quite likely to be unique. Many was the time in the past when some planetary governor or colonial director with ideas above his or her station had ordered the show trial and execution of an enemy, whether a true threat or just some political opponent. Again, the Lord-Admiral could not help but ask himself the same question he had asked several times before. Why was Celestia not Empress of the entire planet?
The Auspex crews had kept track of the buildup of pony forces through the night. With no way to contact them directly, and no sign of the princess in Canterlot, Marcos had decided against sending a shuttle or dropship down to land an envoy. He chose to wait and observe, the way that Celestia had said her scouts would act towards the Hive. He wanted to see what would happen next. At dawn, he received his answer.
The Auspex had recorded numerous weapons flashes. Furthermore, they had picked up a huge spike in the count of the unknown particle. There had been a significant rise before, but that was put down to the concentration of so many ponies in one place. This new and massive increase suggested that some extremely powerful psychic energy was being unleashed, and there were only three beings that Marcos knew of who apparently wielded such power; the princess, her sister, and the Changeling Queen.
Clearly, some kind of battle was underway around the volcano. Every available sensor was trained upon the valley, in the hopes of learning something that might prove to be of some value in the future. The particle count continued to climb as the Auspex recorded great flashes of light, of unknown origin. Marcos watched on monitor screens as the pony airships advanced, formed a line similar to that which his own fleet might adopt. Individual figures could be seen on the thermal scans. There was no doubt that the princess was among them. The enormous rise in the particle count and the great flashes seemingly from nowhere suggested that 'magic,' as the ponies termed it, was being flung about in great quantities, but some of it was notably stronger than the rest. It seemed certain that the volcano was indeed the site of the Changeling Hive, and that Celestia herself was leading her ponies into battle against it.
Marcos ordered continuous observations of the battlefield. He did not know why the princess was so intent on fighting this battle directly, but he wanted to find out. It seemed unlikely she merely wished to settle an old grudge with the Queen. There had to be more to it, but what resource did the Hive possess that she so coveted?
While Marcos had other matters to attend to with preparations for securing Ponyville and moving on to Baltimare, he kept a close eye on the battle being waged around the volcano as it developed during the morning. The fighting seemed to be finely balanced; there were large numbers of Changelings who did not show up on the thermal scans due to their cold-blooded nature, but were visible almost as a single mass around the pony airships. The Auspex officers could not make an accurate head count of the creatures, but it was clear that there were plenty of them, enough to hold the powerful airships at bay. The readings of the unknown particle continued to spike as a titanic battle of wills was apparently underway between the princess and the Queen. Commissar Birbeck had also reported that Princess Luna was 'unavailable' as well, meaning there was a good chance she was also present on the battlefield below. The Auspex picked up several landslides seemingly caused by stray shots, but with an apparent stalemate developing, Marcos had turned his attentions elsewhere, until a shout drew him back.
'My Lord! Sensors are picking up a significant increase in seismic activity,' one of the Auspex officers called out. 'Beneath the volcano...standby...' He tweaked a few settings to give a clearer picture of what he was recording on his sensors. 'Several earth tremors...magnitude 5.5 on the standard scale...magnitude 6.1...6.4...' He reeled off a string of intensity measurements as tremor after tremor began to shake the ground. A different officer monitoring the volcano's emissions spoke up.
'My Lord, I'm recording an increase in the emission of sulphur dioxide from the volcano, as well as carbon monoxide...the particulate ash concentration is also rising.'
'Is there a threat of eruption?' Marcos questioned, striding over to the Auspex stations.
'Yes, My Lord...a significant threat,' the junior officer replied. 'The evidence suggests the preliminary stages of an eruption are already underway.'
A coincidence? Marcos mused. Surely not. The volcano had sat relatively silent for the weeks that they had been in orbit, and now, at the very hour of the massed attack by the Equestrian military, it was starting to grumble and groan. Was this more evidence of the psychic power of the princess? Doubtful. If she wanted to destroy the Hive she would have let the humans do so, or simply shown up alone to use her magic, rather than bringing an army with her and risking the lives of her subjects. So was the Queen responsible? Why she would want to destroy her own Hive was a mystery, but from what Marcos understood about the species, the Changelings were no stranger to moving house, and frequently shifted location to a new Hive. With their security compromised it seemed a sensible act, and if Chrysalis had caused the volcano to erupt, then she would achieve the bonus of potentially taking a large number of ponies out with it. If it was her doing, then it also represented a worrying hint as to the power that she wielded.
'Can you give a timescale as to when the eruption might occur?' Marcos asked his officers.
'Based on the current progression of tremors and emissions, My Lord, I would estimate no more than forty five minutes until the first major eruption,' the science officer replied.
'Well, I hope the princess is aware of the developments,' Marcos replied, hands clasped behind his back. 'Otherwise her forces will be running straight into more trouble than they bargained for.'
The desperate search for an exit from the cavern had continued for the last ten minutes, with no success. All around them were sheer walls of rock. There were no branching passageways, no side chambers, no other tunnels save those which were blocked. A plan to use their explosives to blast through the rocks blocking the exit had been vetoed by those with engineering experience, as it was all but guaranteed to bring down the actual tunnel roof itself, given the close proximity within which the detonations would have to occur to be effective. Their limited engineering tools had no chance of breaking through the rock in the time they had. The tremors were continuing to get worse, more frequent and more violent, and the magma was still flowing in from behind. Almost all of the floor was now covered, and in a ridiculous reality reminiscent of the foal's playground game, everypony was either hovering in the air or standing atop rocks, boulders and other protuberances to stay safe. Twilight had been hoisted up atop one of the large lumps of stone that was blocking the exit, keeping her as far from the magma threat as possible.
Where there had been optimism and hope, a pall of doubt and resignation had fallen over the assault force. Ponies were still looking for a solution, but with no expectation of success any more. Spitfire knew they were out of options. Using the explosives on the tunnel entrance seemed to be the only possibility, but it was highly risky. Her engineers had advised her that it would probably collapse the tunnel entirely, even if it managed to breach the thick barricade that prevented their passage, thus defeating the purpose. But there seemed to be no other way, and Spitfire feared it would have to be done.
'Sunflower!' she called out. The mare in question flapped over to her. 'Anything?'
'No, ma'am, still nothing,' Sunflower replied. 'We've searched every inch of this place. There are no other exits. I can't see any other option but to try and blast through the debris.' Spitfire nodded.
'That's what I'm afraid of. But if that fails then we're in an even worse position...still no way out, and no explosives, either. Is there any indication of a weakness in the rock anywhere?'
'Not that I've seen, ma'am,' Sunflower replied. 'We don't know what's on the other side of the walls, anyway. If we blow the wrong section then we might get flooded out with magma before we know what's hit us.'
'Yeah...' Spitfire frowned. 'But we might not have a choice. We can't just give up. I'm not going too just sit here and wait to die. Get the explosives ready. We're going to break through that barricade.'
Sunflower nodded and flew away to gather up the engineers who carried the demolition charges. They were meant for just such a purpose, but with the potential instability of the Hive thanks to the impending eruption and the constant quakes, there was no guarantee whatsoever that using them wouldn't simply bring down the entire chamber upon them. The area around the exit tunnel would have to be cleared, including Twilight, who would have to be moved. Spitfire saw to it.
The explosives came over, the engineers carrying satchel charges laden with TNT and other compounds. Their sticky bombs could be added to the mix as well for a little added bite. The engineers set about identifying the best locations for the explosives to be planted; where they would be the most effective, but also where they would be least likely to cause any further cave-ins or collapses.
They were just about to start placing the charges when a large tremor began to shake them, rocking the chamber. Dust poured from the ceiling as those ponies who were standing took to the air to avoid being bowled over by the force. Arcwing grabbed Twilight firmly and lifted her up. This tremor lasted a lot longer than the short sharp shocks that ha preceded it. The ground bucked violently. There were creaks and moans from the structure of the Hive, from the very mountain itself. One of the walls to the right side of the chamber began to break, rapidly, like a vase, a great web of cracks spreading across its surface. Part of it gave way, and magma began to flow afresh into the chamber, adding to that coming up from below. This time it was not oozing, it was pouring, a great torrent of the stuff washing in through the damaged wall. The heat, immediately, was intense, driving everypony away from that side of the chamber. It looked like the end was nigh. The shaking continued, and part of the opposite wall gave way, sending ponies below diving for safety as a plume of dust and shattered rock tumbled, leaving another crack high up on the wall, a glow seeping through from the other side. But this was not the foul, burning glow of hell. This was the glinting, almost dreamlike glow of heaven. Celestia's sun was shining through the opening.
'Up there!' Spitfire shouted. 'Up there1 Get the explosives!' she called to the engineers, who gathered their charges and rapidly took off for the top of the cavern. 'Make a hole!' she ordered. The crack was small, not big enough for a pony to fit through, but it offered hope. There was light on the other side, and that meant the surface. If they could widen the gap with explosives, it might just take them to safety.
'I can see the sky!' one of the engineers shouted in confirmation as they began to hastily plant their charges. The magma pouring in from the other side of the cavern was forcing everypony toward the light, but too close and they would risk harm from the explosions or from tumbling rock. If something went wrong, of course, it could just as easily bring down the entire mountainside down on top of them.
'Everypony back up over there!' Spitfire pointed to the back corner of the Hive, on the same side as the explosives were being laid, but farther back, out of harm's way of both the blast and the magma. The chamber was starting to fill up with terrifying speed as molten rock poured in from the bowels of the earth. If the explosives failed, they would all be dead within minutes, roasted alive from the terrific radiant heat before the magma itself even reached them.
The seconds passed with an impossible slowness as the engineers worked rapidly, having little room for error but even less time to get the job done. Finally, one of them shouted down.
'Charges planted!'
'Then set the fuses and get the hell over here!' Spitfire ordered. 'Everypony, cover your ears, and open your mouths. On my signal, make for the exit up there!'
If there is one.
The engineers flapped down to join the rest of the commandos as the thirty-second fuses counted down. Again, time almost stood still, the unbearable heat and the painful glow from the magma a reminder of the price of failure.
With an ear-splitting bang, the charges detonated within a fraction of a second of each other. The cavern shook once again, and a huge cascade of shattered rock and earth fell from the chamber wall, slamming into the ground and splashing onto the magma below. A dust cloud obscured vision almost completely. Spitfire waited another thirty seconds for the collapse to finish and the rocks to settle before she gave her hopeful order.
'Everypony, go, go, go!'
She led the way, flapping up high toward the opening, through the choking dust and the heat. Where there had been a small crack, there was now a great orifice, some twenty feet wide. Sunlight, precious sunlight, streamed through. Spitfire held position at the opening as the rest of the assault force followed, first the STG, then Arcwing carrying Twilight, and then the rest. The rocks above groaned worryingly as they flew out of the depths and into the light and the fresh air. One by one, pony after pony, fleeing certain death and into Celestia's embrace.
Another tremor shook the ground, even more severe than before. The rest of the chamber's far wall gave way with a loud crack, and magma burst free, huge gushing torrents of molten rock. Spitfire counted each pony as they passed her. She would not leave anypony behind. A crunch and a sudden roar from above made her look up. Part of the hillside above the opening was giving way, a landslide beginning to form, rapidly gaining pace. She could wait around no longer. The last few stragglers fled past her, and it was time to go. She turned and flew as fast as she could out into the valley, as behind her, with a mighty roar, the volcano erupted in a cataclysmic blast.
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Hmmm... time to outrun the pyroclastic flow. Ponies and changling alike are going to die from this.
Why is he worried? As far imperium is concerned, this is a win win situation. If both parties die off then it only positive for the imperium they could have enough balls after that to actually do something for the benefit of the imperium and take the planet. Because if all greatest threats are dead then there is nothing that can stop them.
9892537
Maybe its out of respect for the pony race.
9892714
Highly doubt it, because such things are against welfare of the imperium, putting well being of other than the imperium are traitorous thoughts. And this is coming from a commissar, whom are required when joined to schola progenium have absolute faith to the imperium and have to follow imperiums ideals to the letter. Commissar cadets are bombarded by propaganda throughout their entire life. And are required to be ruthless and ignore such feelings like quilt, doubt or kindness. They must be ruthless, merciless for the imperiums own good. They duties are to shoot all of thous ho do anything against imperiums well being, even officers.
9892917
Marcos isn't a Commissar, he's a Lord-Admiral. But as he has stated a couple of times, he has a lot of (begrudging, sometimes) respect for the ponies, and the Princess in particular. In addition, things may not be quite as simple as they would be regarding any other Xenos race...
9893488
Respect has nothing to do with these decisions. They have orders from sector command to conquer and fight for imperiums benefit. Sou far they have done nothing that would benefit imperiums position as a dominant force in a galaxy. They are making diplomatic decisions even thou they have no jurisdictions to do sou. Imperiums does not work with sentimental thinking, what administratum sees are positive and negative numbers. And from there imperial forces are given orders to follow. What these forces have only done is waste valuable resources, left valuable men dead and achieved absolutely nothing. And if they start to waste these resources because of some sentimental respect, then it makes them incompetent. And it would be still duty to thous commissars attached to all ships to make changes until imperium starts to gain something.
9893547
Not every man in the Emperor's service is necessarily 100% slavishly devoted to doing the exact same thing in the exact same way. Marcos and Galen were placed in absolute command of the Crusade fleet and its infantry component, respectively, by Segmentum Command, which includes diplomacy with any species they may encounter. How they go about conquering worlds matters little to the high command, as long as results happen, but Marcos knows that if they learn of the ponies and their true nature, they would likely order him to exterminate the population, which is why he has delayed his report to Hydraphur. Something makes him reluctant to take actions that would harm the ponies, but I can't really explain without spoilers. Re-read some of the previous chapters to see more hints about it.
9893691
If they think differently then they are traitors, they have a command of their forces but what to do with thous forces are to follow sector commands orders. They are not explorator fleet, discovery of species are to given to mechanicus forces. You have a arch magos that should outrank all others and somehow he is not in command. They have no jurisdictions to diplomacy, General policy of the imperium is not tolerate xenos of any kind, no matter of their technological level. Last time imperium failed to do sou birthed Tau. Even then there is nothing to gain from them because all xenotech is outlawed and because of their technological level they could not pay enough taxes like other human planets. Even thou there is no planet within the imperium that has xenos. Commissars duty would be to shoot them because they are against imperiums ideals.
9894478
The Imperial Navy would surely never tolerate handing control of an entire Crusade fleet over to a member of the Mechanicus. That in itself would likely be seen as a form of heresy, no? This is not a Mechanicus fleet or a Mechanicus operation, it is a joint Navy-Guard Crusade to take control of distant worlds. The fleet is following its orders from Segmentum Command, they have cleared and captured numerous worlds on their journey, but again something about this particular one is different.
In addition, there are still Chaos forces on the planet and the Lord-Admiral has (rightly) decreed that he will not leave until they are eradicated. Would you have him leave the forces of the Archenemy to continue their plots and machinations without finishing them off like any good servant of the Emperor should? What better way for the Crusade's resources to be spent than causing the death and destruction of traitors and Daemons? Besides which, there may be nothing of pure military value there for the Imperium, but not all treasures are technological.
9895654
Actually they have done it and have given even greater control of the whole force. Archmagos Kotov’s Explorator Fleet is wast and powerful with imperial navys vessel and space marine squad attached to it.
From the book forges of mars
It would not be feasible to hunt all of thous from lost and the dammed, as long as traitors back is broken it would be enough to leave to assets information. When traitors are broken they will go underground, and founding them one by one would not work. Let xenos die fighting them, imperium would only lose resources in a pointless gorilla war. Imperium takes is taxes seriously, planets are to pay ridiculous taxes to keep imperiums warmachine working. There was this planet loyal to the imperium that had over 30 regiments of PDF, withing 8 years that was reduced to 500 thousand men. Imperium was taking everything and when they refused to pay more imperium invaded brutally.
From the book shadowsword
9896761
But that was, according to the quote, to 'repay a centuries old Debta Fabricata.' There's no reason for an entire Crusade fleet, under normal circumstances, to be given over to Mechanicus control unless, perhaps, they expected to locate something specific, an STC Template perhaps.
9893691
The imperium does not make peace with alien scum they have a kill on sight policy for a reason.
9897988
Imperium is ruled by layer upon layer of bureaucracy. Arcmagos is putting on the line his whole forge and all his assets to have such force. Because he had to use favors and buy people to get enough resources to go to the unknown. His mission is to find another mechanicus explorator fleet switch was lost 3 millenia ago. But i have never heard anywhere that imperial navy would fund their own expeditions to the unknown. Only mechanicus does that. And because they get away from it because they are some what independent from the imperium, to a certain extent of course. It is because imperium sees it as a waste of resources to pay such things. And some one from sector command would not have authority to send these kinds of missions. Only a high lord could do that. But if someone very powerful and rich pays for it and is ready to take consequences for it. Then they can lend their help some time.
9899195
You have rogue traders they can do whatever they want to an extent of course.
The adapts of mars send explor fleets into the galaxy looking for STC devices or hard copies.
9898764
But if the choice was between killing Xenos and killing Traitors, which do you think they would pick? They'd kill the Traitors first every time, even if it meant teaming up (like they have with the Eldar many times). That's not to say they wouldn't turn on their allies later (like they have with the Eldar many times).
9899195
The High Lords of Terra will authorise a mission such as that, but the fleet itself will still make its reports to Segmentum Command. After all, Hydraphur is closer than Terra. They in turn will relay the messages to their own superiors.
It's not an expedition, it's a Crusade. There's a difference. An expedition goes looking for something, a Crusade fleet goes to conquer something. That's what they've done in a dozen other systems, but this time circumstances have changed, partly because the Chaos forces showed up and partly because they discovered something of potential value which they a) would like to use for themselves, and b) want to stop the Archenemy getting control of.
9899963
May be true but the knife eared shits always stap the imps in the back all the time
9899968
A crusades are send to a known parts of the galaxy. Explorator fleets evaluate planets and then send crusades with actual occupation forces. Crusades always have a goal in mind, they are never just sended to unknown and hope there is something. Because navigators could never pin point exact location to where to go if there is no information about it. Resources are carefully calculated to how much minimal amount of regiments are needed to be sended to achieve victory. If crusade is stalled then more will be quickly taken from nearby systems.
And sou like you said this is a crusade made to conquer for the imperium, sou why would they care if xenos are killing each other? Makes it just easier to take in the end.
9899809
Rogue traders are not really part of imperium, they are completely independent out side of imperiums territory. And would not represent imperium. But yes mechanicus sees it as their guest of knowledge to explore worlds and look for any signs of old human empires colony ships.
9900902
The Imperium of Man is a vast, scattered realm, extending over almost the entire galaxy, impinging itself upon the more compact areas of alien-settled space. The million or more human-inhabited worlds the Imperium controls are but a tiny fraction of the galactic whole. Then there are the fringes and Halo Zones, remote areas where the Astronomican does not reach, and where the only human settlers are Renegades or pioneering groups whose ancestors were forgotten by the Emperor's servants millennia ago. Most of the Milky Way Galaxy remains unexplored, unknown, and extremely dangerous, even in the late 41st Millennium.
The potential of new worlds, alien civilisations, and unimaginable resources made necessary a class of free-ranging Imperial agents known as Rogue Traders. Licensed and often equipped by the Adeptus Terra, the Rogue Trader is free to explore the far regions of the galaxy, the areas where the Astronomican does not reach, and those areas within its reach as yet unvisited by humanity. Rogue Traders have even attempted to cross the great starless voids of intergalactic space, but over such distances even Astropaths' powers of psychic communication are useless, and whether such missions have succeeded is unknown.
Operating in isolation from the central authority of the Imperium, the Rogue Trader must decide how to react to alien cultures, new discoveries, and threats. If he judges an intelligent xenos race to be potentially dangerous, he may attempt to destroy it or to gather as much information as he can so that others may do so. If he decides a race may be of use to humanity, he may attempt to make contact and establish relations. If merely rich in technology or minerals, a planet may be plundered, and the Rogue Trader will return to Terra laden with the treasures of space -- alien artefacts, rare and precious minerals, and undreamed-of technologies.
Needless to say, the Rogue Trader requires a considerable resource in spacecraft, troops and other staff if he is to complete his mission. His total responsibility may extend to dozens of voidcraft, often huge, lumbering cargo vessels crammed with a small army, a full crew of technicians, and volunteer settlers to establish colonies on new worlds. Most important, however, are the fighting troops, for it is they who will have to deal with any potential threat.
Many Rogue Traders are individuals who have reached a position of power within the Imperium's governing hierarchy. These individuals are drawn from the ranks of the Adeptus Terra, the Imperial Navy and Astra Militarum, or even the Inquisition. A few are influential civilians, amongst whom the Navigators are the most famous. Politics sometimes obliges this course, for free of Imperial command the Rogue Trader is also conveniently out of the way, beyond the centre of real power in the Emperor's realm. Rogue Traders have a reputation as outcasts; many are people whom the high-ranking officials of the Adeptus Terra's myriad branches deem better kept at a safe distance.
Operating beyond Imperial control, Rogue Traders are a law unto themselves. Some are highly pious individuals, bringing the God-Emperor's light beyond the edges of His rule; others are nothing more than glorified pirates and scoundrels. Many Rogue Traders exude confidence and are highly charismatic, often charming and roguish, skilled diplomats (some would say confidence tricksters) and hardened killers when the situation demands. Rogue Traders will often gather an entourage of hangers-on and companions, and this may contain alien warriors, mutants, and other undesirables unacceptable in polite Imperial society. Many in the Inquisition would take to marking the Rogue Trader out as a Heretic. Many Rogue Traders have highly unstable personalities: some destroy worlds on a whim or experiment with alien species out of macabre curiosity.
9900902
All Rogue Traders are highly exceptional individuals who are driven to success beyond the dreams of the ordinary men and women of the Imperium of Man even though these exceptional people often have extreme character quirks themselves; some destroy entire worlds for the slightest reason, or include alien warriors and mutants among their entourage in direct violation of Imperial orthodoxy. Some are highly pious servants of the God-Emperor while others are no more than legitimised pirates. The most infamous Rogue Trader was Jan van Yastobaal, who became little more than an officially-sanctioned desperado, plundering whatever world he came upon.
Rogue Traders are often flamboyant individuals, commonly dressed in the most extravagant finery they can acquire. However, each Rogue Trader is a unique individual from a particular background. Some newly-created Rogue Traders come from origins in the Astra Militarum, the Imperial Navy, the Merchant Fleets, the Administratum or even the Imperial Inquisition where they will have developed unique outlooks, skills and approaches to different situations. Some Rogue Traders are relatively poor, possessing a single ancient and dilapidated starship. Others are incredibly wealthy and powerful and have whole fleets of warships and entire private armies at their disposal.
Certain favoured individuals may even call upon detachments of Space Marines, having entered mutually beneficial pacts with individual Chapters. Some Rogue Traders operate as mercenaries, renting the service of their ship(s) to the highest bidder, including pirates, other Rogue Traders or an Imperial organisation like the Adeptus Mechanicus, the Imperial Guard or the Inquisition.
Beginnings
The Rogue Traders had their origins in the demands of the early days of the Great Crusade of the late 30th Millennium. Driven by the will of the Emperor, the first Expeditionary Fleets of the Crusade pushed outwards into the galaxy. Preceding each great Expeditionary Fleet of hundreds, sometimes thousands, of vessels often ranged smaller contingents of independent flotillas led by a class of martial leader that would become known as the "Rogue Traders Militant." Many of these individuals were former rulers of the numerous realms the Emperor had cast down first during the Unification Wars on Terra and later, as the Great Crusade spread, formerly independent human worlds.
They were offered a stark choice--bend the knee before the Emperor and swear service to the Great Crusade, or die by His hand. Though many set pride before what they regarded as slavery, others chose service and took up the Emperor's Warrant of Trade. There was a price, however. The Rogue Traders Militant were expected to scout ahead of the leading edge of the Great Crusade, accompanied by their own armies as well as whatever assets had been ceded them by the Emperor.
Operating so far ahead of the Emperor's crusading armies, the Rogue Traders Militant could expect little or no aid should they encounter foes too powerful for them to overcome. After several solar decades penetrating the inky black of the void, Rogue Trader Militant fleets often appeared as ramshackle vagabonds, many of their starships taken from defeated enemies, sometimes including xenos vessels of entirely novel or esoteric form.
They were forbidden to return to Terra, for in His wisdom the Emperor sought not to just rid Himself of powerful rivals, but to ensure that even in their deaths they might serve Mankind. Many vanished alone and unheralded; slain, consumed or enslaved by nameless xenos abominations far from the light of Terra.
9900902
The most valuable possession of a Rogue Trader is his or her Imperial Warrant of Trade; an ancient legal document which describes and sanctions the accepted limits of a Rogue Trader and his descendants' operations across the galaxy. These charters are hereditary and thus create an entire Rogue Trader dynasty when they are issued. These dynasties are granted a personal coat of arms identifying their members amongst the Imperial nobility. Rogue Traders are empowered with the authority by the High Lords of Terra to travel freely within the Imperium and beyond.
This allows them to legally interact with cultures which normal Imperial citizens are forbidden contact with because they are non-Imperial human worlds or xenos-controlled planets. Not only that, but Rogue Traders are granted the permission and freedom to deal with these cultures as they see fit, so long as it is judged to be in the interests of the Imperium. Having said that, it can be assumed that a Renegade Rogue Trader guilty of heresy or treason will be severely prosecuted by the Inquisition if discovered and captured. His punishment will be that much more severe if he is deemed undeserving of the Emperor's extraordinary trust in his family.
Rogue Traders usually return to Imperial space every few Terran years, to unload their exotic wares and re-supply, recruit, and rest until the next foray into the darkness of unknown space. During these periods they may come into conflict with members of the Adeptus Terra or the Inquisition. Rogue Traders wield incredible power, and it is easy for them to forget that once back within the Imperium, they do not have free rein to act as they wish. This strident attitude will draw attention from the authorities.
Many Rogue Traders dispute the right of the Imperium to exercise authority over them. As men who have wandered amongst alien stars and conversed with all manner of cultures, Rogue Traders are viewed as susceptible to all kinds of heresies, from wayward philosophies to infection by alien creatures or possession by Warp entities that live in the darkness between stars. All of these factors can lead to violent confrontation, particularly if the Rogue Trader has knowledge or an artefact that others within the Imperial hierarchy of equal or greater power covet.
9901538
well that is a text and a half. I do know what rogue traders are, they can trade with xenos as much as they like as long as they don't import it to the imperium. If they gather artifacts and then sell it to some governor then imperium really don't care, but if they start to sell xeno tech like that of tau then that is a problem. Outside of the imperium they do not represent imperiums policy or image.
Shoot him dead out of his misery.
Why didn't they just lever him against the boulder to break his legs, then use their guns to rip them up more, then once the legs as a whole, the bones in particular, were ripped apart saw and rip?
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Or cut away the muscle, tendons and ligaments around the knee joint? Then they could have heated the knives to sear the arteries shut.