"...and that's all we saw. Manehatten was a ghost-town; buildings were destroyed, things were messy, but not a pony in sight. Not even any bodies. We found one pegasus hiding in a cave about ten miles away, but we haven't been able to get him to say a word. He looks pretty shaken up." Shining Armor concluded his report to the princess, his usually smiling face grim.
"Bring him to me, please. I will try to speak with him; if he won't speak, then I'll learn as much as I can in other ways." Celestia responded in a soft but firm voice. Manehatten was one of the largest cities in all of Equestria; every pony in the city suddenly vanishing did not bode well. Shining Armor nodded and left the princess's chambers, returning with a ragged looking grey pegasus stallion. The newcomer had a cutie mark in the design of two cards overlapping at a diagonal angle, the ace of spades on top of the ace of hearts. His mane was a dark chestnut color, unkempt and unwashed for what looked like days, and his deep blue eyes were fixed in a thousand yard stare.
"Good evening. You don't need to be afraid; you aren't in any danger here, nor are you in trouble. But it is imperative that you tell me everything you know about Manehatten." Celestia wasted no time in addressing the pegasus, anxious to hear his story. She was met with a stoney silence, though his face twitched a bit at the name 'Manehatten'.
"Are you unable to speak? Did something happen to your throat, or your tongue? Shining Armor, you did make sure he was medically examined, right?" Celestia looked to her captain of the guard, who nodded in affirmation. "Nothing wrong with him physically other than a nasty bruise on his right flank." Shining Armor responded.
"I'm going to look into your mind with magic. You might see some of your own memories as I look at them, and they may seem real, but you'll still be here in the palace the whole time. Do you understand me?" Celestia spoke softly and kindly to the pegasus.
On hearing Celestia's intentions, the pegasus found his voice. At first all he did was shriek, a high pitched pained wail, soon turning to a barely coherent babble. "No! No! Claws and teeth, claws and teeth, claws and teeth." He fell to his flanks, rocking back and forth and looking up at Celestia with pleading eyes. The princess blinked back tears; even in the face of a crisis that threatened all of her subjects, she was loath to do anything that would hurt even one of them. But the needs of the many outweighed the needs of one pegasus. Celestia closed her eyes and gathered energy at the tip of her horn, the comfortable trappings of her palace fading away as she prepared to look at the pegasus's mind.
When her vision refocused, she was in a very different place, as a very different pony. The spell would allow her to see everything through the eyes and mind of the pony who's memories she was viewing. She was in an alleyway of Manehatten, sitting behind a milk crate turned card table. The pegasus's name was Lucky Streak, and his cutie mark reflected his special talent - sleight of hoof. She could hear his voice coming from her own muzzle, looking up at an earth pony mare across from her. "That's th'fourth hand you've lost, petite. Sure y'don't want to cut your lossses?" He spoke with a Mule Orleans accent. Celestia felt the weight of the moneybag on his hip grow as he added the bits from his latest winnings.
"Double or nothing. I can't go home down this many bits, my dad'd kill me." The mare responded anxiously. The princess found herself with a growing distaste for her new host as Lucky shuffled his deck between his wing joints and began dealing elaborately with his fetlocks, small motions of his fore legs occasionally secreting away a card for use in future cheating.
The princess could feel his thoughts at the time. His mind was far from the game; after all, one didn't have to focus too hard on a game of chance if the outcome was rigged. He was thinking about two main things. Firstly, a mare named Melody Violet who he was taking out for dinner that night, and secondly, the rumors that had been circulating on the streets about 'zombie ponies'. Personally he thought them to be nothing more than drunks; after all, a few bottles of apple brandy could make anypony seem like a zombie. But at least three of his usual sources for local news had mentioned another peculiarity - reports of 8 foot high clawed monstrosities casting spells on the 'zombie ponies'. At the same time there had been one or two ponies who vanished entirely, never heard from again. He still dismissed the rumors as unconnected. Manehatten was a rough city; it wasn't unheard of for ponies to go missing, and as far as Lucky was concerned anything 8 feet high and covered with blades couldn't possibly be stealthy enough to stay hidden.
Lucky was just getting ready to lay down his winning hand when the first sign of trouble came. Tremors began in the pavement beneath his hooves; first smaller ones, then escalating until they were powerful enough to knock over the milk crate and throw both Lucky and his opponent to their flanks. Next came an ear splitting noise as the pavement on the main thoroughfare beside them split in two, large chunks of asphalt falling down into an ever growing hole. The pegasus took to the air to get a better view as much as to escape the shaking, and blinked a few times in disbelief.
It wasn't a hole. It was a mouth.
He didn't have time enough to process what he was seeing before a creature erupted from beneath the street. Lucky was nothing if not well traveled; he had seen manticores, dragons, and all other manners of vicious beasts. Nothing he had ever seen was even close to this creature. It was easily thirty feet high, with a bone colored snakelike body and huge red chitinous scythes for forearms. It's mouth was distended, easily big enough to swallow three ponies whole, and a series of spines along it's back were sparking green with some sort of electrical energy. The spines suddenly flared up, and arcs of green lightning raked across the crowds of terrified onlookers. Ponies dropped dead by the dozen, coats charred and blackened where the bio-energy had burned them. The snake-monster let out a deafening roar, knocking the few stunned ponies still alive out of their stupor and into a panic.
Then came the rest. Hordes of smaller monsters began to spill out of the tunnel the larger beast had left behind. They varied in exact design, but each and every one of them was horrifying. Smaller nimble beasts ran with the speed of a cheetah, pouncing on fleeing ponies and running them through with wicked scything talons. Horrific rotund creatures fired massive globules of acid from an orifice on their back, melting concrete steel and flesh alike. Most distressingly, a small pack of horrors like giant winged ants took to the sky, their clawed hands carrying what appeared to be small guns made of chitin. Through sheer luck, none of the fliers seemed to notice him - they contented themselves with swooping down over crowds of ponies, the weapons in their hands launching what appeared to be smaller swarms of vicious biting insects, which bored their way into flesh on contact.
Lucky took off upward, hoping to spy out the best way of getting the buck out of dodge. The higher he got, the more grim the situation on the ground looked. Once he cleared the higher skyscrapers it became obvious that this wasn't an isolated problem - the massive snake beast was only one of three in the city, and each of them had brought it's own accompanying horde through it's underground tunnel. A pack of the flying monsters found it's way up behind him, angry buzzing sounds passing by his ears as the boring insectile ammunition narrowly missed his head. He bolted away from them, but the creature's gave chase, firing all the while. Lucky pulled into a dive, trying to get back into the concrete jungle in hopes of giving them a less clear shot. He continued his dive almost to ground level, pulling out just before hitting t he street. The creatures pulled out of their own dive a bit sooner, keeping themselves above him and laying down a hail of buzzing death. Lucky turned down an alleyway, hearing a grinding sound as more of the boring ammunition ate into the brick and mortar of an apartment building just as readily as flesh. Right as he was exiting the alley on the other end, a fifteen foot high beast like a living battering ram slammed an over-sized lobster-shaped claw into the wall above him, sending chunks of brick down into the alleyway as the wall collapsed. A large piece of it struck Lucky on the flank, sending a searing pain through his body; still, the rubble was high enough to slow his pursuers as he flew over it. A few sharp turns later, and he was out of their sight.
It was a miracle that no more of the monsters pursued him. Ignoring all pain and fatigue, Lucky flew as fast as he could for a full three miles outside of the city limits until he came across a cave. He landed and ran all the way to the back, curling up and crying until he couldn't cry anymore. He was there for a full three days before Shining Armor's expedition found him.
The vision began to grow blurry once again, and Celestia found herself in her palace once more. Lucky Streak was crying once again, shaking his head and mouthing silent pleas for it all to stop. Celestia found herself blinking back tears of her own. It had been necessary for her to see this, and by extension for him to relive it. Even so, she couldn't help but feel like a villainess; she had made him go back to something so horrible, and even with the lives of millions on the line it felt wrong.
"What did you see, princess?" Shining Armor inquired, genuinely frightened by the expression on Celestia's face.
"Go find Twilight. Tell her to gather the other elements of harmony and meet me here at once. Our entire world may be at stake." Celestia commanded, her voice somehow shaky and firm at the same time. Shining Armor nodded and galloped out of the room; whatever she wanted, it was urgent, and he wasn't about to delay. As soon as he left the room, princess Luna came galloping in.
"We bring urgent news, my sister!" She proclaimed, the royal Canterlot voice in full effect.
"What is it Luna? Why are you not at your post? Someone must watch over the night." Now it was Celestia's turn to be frightened. Luna would not abandon her nightly vigil without exceptionally good cause.
"There are creatures descending around Canterlot." Luna responded, causing Celestia to grimace. Perhaps she had even less time to prepare than she thought. "Did they look like giant insects or snakes?" Celestia asked, keeping her voice as measured as she could.
"Nay, sister. They were delivered on metal birds, and we believe they looked like apes." Luna reported. "You believe?" Celestia asked back. "Why weren't you able to tell? Surely the darkness of the night doesn't hinder your sight."
"They wore some sort of cloak which seemed to blend them into their surroundings; we weren't stymied by the dark, but their clothing must bear a potent magic." Luna replied defensively. Celestia simply stood in silence, pondering what this new complication could mean for their predicament as Luna finished her report.
"It was as though we were looking at ghosts."
"Fething Tyranids." Major Elim Rawne grunted, sharpening his chainsword on the transport deck of the Valkyrie troop transport ferrying them in from orbit. "Fething planet is locked off from the Imperium for half a millenia by a warp storm, and the first report we get on it is fething Tyranids." He looked around the transport at his particular detachment. Nearest to him was Commisar Hark. His right arm was an augmetic, replacing an original lost to hard fighting in an earlier campaign. Hark had a strong face, worthy of his title. He wasn't an original member of the Tanith first and only, but he had proven his mettle on countless actions with them since.
To Hark's right was trooper Caffran, a Tanith native and possibly the best shot with a rocket in the regiment. Caffran was one of the few soldiers Rawne considered a friend; one of the few whom he, the man who trusted nobody, could trust. Caff also seemed to represent some kind of rekindled hope for the Tanith. He had taken up with one of the troopers who joined the regiment on Vervunhive, and the two of them had adopted a son, saved from the carnage of Vervunhive when the hive world was torn apart by war.
Continuing down the line was trooper "Try Again" Bragg, an enormous bear of a man who was nearly the size of a space marine. Bragg earned his nickname by being a notoriously poor shot; still, his sheer size and physical power made him able to heft heavy weapons with ease, and was invaluable in melee combat. Bragg also had a reputation as a distiller, recreating the native liquor of Tanith 'Sacra' for the rest of the regiment.
Beside Bragg was trooper "mad" Larkin, cleaning the barrel of his hot-shot longlas. Larkin was easily the best marksman in the regiment, and in Rawne's opinion possibly in the entire Imperial Guard. Larkin and Bragg had the sort of friendship which could only be tempered by the fires of war, a bond unbreakable by ceramite. It was Larkin who had coined the regiment's nickname - “Gaunt's Ghosts”.
In addition to these five were six other troopers. Some were native-born of Tanith, others had folded into the regiment from Verghast or Vervunhive. All together they were just a single squad of the Tanith first and only, an ill-fated elite regiment of the Imperial Guard serving under the command of Colonel-Commisar Ibram Gaunt. The planet Tanith itself was no more; the same day that the regiment had been founded, a splinter chaos fleet razed the planet. Gaunt got the regiment off world rather than letting them die with their world. Rawne had still never forgiven him for it.
“We don't know that it's 'nids, Rawne.” Caffran said. “Inquisition saw some some kind of shadow on the warp, and the Ordo Xenos decided it wasn't worth it to wait around for whatever was causing it to show themselves.”
“Fething Inquisition.” Rawne added. “Rumors of a Tyranid presence and all they send is three guard regiments. They tell us we're here as scouts, but I don't think the hive fleet is going to accept that explanation.” Harkin gave Rawne a pointed look. Most commissars would execute a trooper for such an insult to the holy inquisition, but a combination of respect for Major Rawne and a knowledge of where Rawne's distaste for the inquisition came from stayed his hand.
Various runes began to illuminate in the transport cabin, low gothic messages letting them know that drop time was approaching. “Alright boys, listen up. In case any of you slept through the briefing, we're approaching the capital city of an unknown xenos race. This world was once Imperial, but a warp storm has kept the Emperor's light from it's surface for more than five thousand years. Gaunt and his team will be dropping a quarter mile West of us, and meeting up with us at the capital gates.” Rawne spoke with the surity of a veteran officer.
“What about Mkoll and the scouts?” Asked Bragg. If brevity was the soul of wit, then Bragg was as witty as they come.
“The scouts are looking into a potential fallback point. A forest to our Southeast; the trees may not be Nalwood, but Tanith can fething well still fight in the woods.”
“I don't like it.” Larkin spoke quietly. “Give me a forest against Chaos any day; but if Tyranids are here... I don't want to fight an animal where I can't get a clean shot at it.” He clutched his longlas, lovingly stroking the custom nalwood stock.
“Shut it Larks. Anyway, our task is to make contact with the xenos and investigate the rumors of Tyranid presence. Xenos-filth though they may be, we aren't to attack the locals. If the 'nids are here, we'll need every ounce of help we can get. Not to mention the Ordos Xenos probably wants to look at the new race's prospects for auxiliary support in the guard. That said, if they attack you, light them up. Lasguns hot; we drop in thirty.” Rawne concluded his briefing, and the transport bay went silent.
They could see Canterlot through the windows, it's towers and minarets quite foreign to eyes accustomed to gothic architecture. None of them spoke a word, the silence unbroken until the transport bay door began to open. It was the sort of silence that always preceded a potential combat situation, quiet as the graves they might be in by the night's end. They slid down wires from the Valkyrie, hitting the groudn with camo cloaks flowing around them. The camo cloak was one of the Tanith's signature pieces of equipment, together with long straight silver warknives. To the west they could just make out the faint glow of the other Valkyrie's engines, their output muted in an effort to remain concealed.
The squad made it within a hundred yards of the Canterlot gates before they burst open, three dozen royal guard spilling out clad in armor and carrying an assortment of swords and spears. The few unicorns in their midst bore their weapons magically; the rest held them in their mouths. The unicorns took point – having magical carrying capacity left their mouths free to talk.
“I'm not sure what you're doing skulking about the front gates at this hour, creatures, but I suggest you turn back.” The lead unicorn said. His armor was particularly ornate, the front portion of the breastplate bearing the sun and moon crest symbolizing Celestia and Luna.
“Better idea. How about you drop your little bits of scrap metal there and take us to your leaders without a fuss?” Rawne responded. He had a confident grin that masked several points of confusion. Firstly, these creatures apparently spoke near flawless low Gothic, despite having been cut off from the empire for five millenia. Secondly, they appeared to be talking horses, some of whom were psychically active.
“Last I checked, we've got you outnumbered and out-armed. We're 24 to your 11, and we've got swords and spears – you've got knives and funny looking sticks.” The lead unicorn shot back, his voice conveying confidence to match Rawnes.
“Larks – why don't you show him what our funny sticks can do?” Rawne said with a devilish grin as he looked to the master sniper. Larkin shouldered his longlas and let out his breath. A sharp crack rang out as a bright crimson beam tore the night's darkness apart. It went straight through the head of the lead unicorn's spear, out the other end, and ended up burning a hole halfway through the right eye of a Starswirl the Bearded statue. “Now, I'll say it again.” Rawne turned back to the guards. “Put. Down. Your. Weapons.” One by one the guards began to disarm, until only the lead unicorn was left clutching his mangled spear with a field of magic.
“Celestia forgive my guards if they won't stand up to you, but I swore a oath to protect.” The unicorn said, hooves digging into the ground.
“A noble gesture.” A new voice rang out, intimately familiar to the Tanith. Rawne's upper liip curled a bit in a snarling expression; the rest of the squad, however, felt their courage and confidence soar. The voice's owner, Ibram Gaunt, stepped forward. “But a wasted one. We aren't here to fight you, and I promise we will not harm your queen as long as we aren't attacked first.”
“Princess.” The unicorn corrected him, but begrudgingly let his spear fall to the ground. There was something about Gaunt's voice that he trusted. Rawne had an obvious malicious streak which made him come off less than trustworthy; Gaunt, on the other hand, had an air of nobility about him. He had long sharp cheekbones befitting his surname, and wore a black Commissar's cap together with a Tanith issue camo-cloak.
“Smart move. We aren't your enemy today. I am Colonel Commisar Ibram Gaunt, of the God Emperor's Imperial Guard.” Gaunt gave the unicorn a courteous nod, presuming that a handshake would be meaningless to a creature without hands.
“Long Spear.” The unicorn returned the nod. “Second in command of the Canterlot royal guard.” It took Gaunt several seconds to figure out that Long Spear was the pony's name, and not some sort of bizarre codephrase.
Behind Gaunt nine more guardsmen and an odd robed civilian were falling in with Rawne's team, for a total of 22. Brin Milo, the youngest of the Tanith and Gaunt's personal adjutant was among them. “By the throne, it's a talking horse. And a psyker to boot.” Milo said, staring slackjawed.
Agun Soric, another member of Gaunt's company corrected him. “Not a Psyker.” Soric had a very effective sense when it came to psionic matters; more than once, Gaunt had suspected him of being a psyker himself. That said, he valued Soric as a guardsman far to much to voice such thoughts, particularly with the black ships of the Inquisition in orbit. Psykers were not permitted to exist freely among the Imperial Guard; if an Inquisitor decided that Soric had the gift, he would be taken for the painful process of sanctioning.
Long Spear led the group past the front gates and through the streets of Canterlot. The Tanith caught glimpses of large colorful eyes peering out at them from beneath windowshades, vanishing the moment any of them tried to make eye contact. Long Spear looked at Gaunt curiously, the royal palace now looming before them. “You said you weren't our enemy today... what about tomorrow then?” The unicorn asked.
Gaunt looked back and up at the black plated Valkyrie, already flying back up to dock with the ships in orbit. He could vaguely make out the stylized =][= symbol of the Inquisition on it's side.
“That remains to be seen.”
