A/N: Games Workshop owns all intellectual property related to Warhammer 40,000, except all characters in this story, as they are mine.
Diary of an Enginseer - World 7618201838-OBSC, 387998.M41
Day 4: Gatling Cannon barrel on Taurox "Dauntless" has worn and broken. Requesting replacement.
Day 11: Re-sending request for cannon barrel.
Day 17: Awaiting cannon barrel.
Day 25: Awaiting cannon barrel.
Day 26: Autocannon chamber on Taurox "7362" worn and requires replacement.
Day 32: Awaiting replacement parts.
Day 57: Awaiting replacement parts.
""Full stop!"
Apaxus dismounted the Land Raider Excelsior and placed his bolter down onto the sandy ground of 7618201838-OBSC (the world had no other name). It was a risky move; the planet was engulfed by a perpetual sandstorm, which easily destroyed all but the most resilient equipment. The mission was simple: a small contingent of Dark Hunters Astartes, led by a Codicier Stormseer, were to provide heavy support for the 86th Rhoin Gorgonnes, four regiments of Cadian Shock Troopers and one regiment of Elysian Drop Troopers, in their search for a Necron artefact. This force contained Devastators and Centurions of the Ninth Company, as well as Land Raiders, Predators and Vindicators drawn from the chapter armoury. It was on deployments like these that Apaxus excelled. When he was fresh out of the 10th Company he had been assigned to then Veteran Sergeant Uilik's 1st Squad, 9th Company. It was here he learned how to fire heavy weapons, and although he became a heavy weapon operator for a 2nd Company Tactical Squad, he soon made a name for himself as a heavy infantry killer and transferred back into the 9th Company with the white helmet signifying a veteran. His specialty was Multi-meltas, however, he found that Multi-meltas were rarely distributed to long range squads and usually ended up with a missile launcher. However, as a veteran brother, he usually ended up leading the trainees in the squad in covering their squad mates, as he was doing now for the 3rd Squad, 9th Company.
Whenever the mission would stop, usually under orders from the Lord Commissar in charge of the 86th, Apaxus would inspect his armour for damage brought on by travelling through the perilous storm. It was standard Mark VII, with a typical modified Devastator helmet, in the form of a box replacing the left eye, housing a lamp. The helmet's long range viewing equipment was fitted on the left of the box. After confirming nothing was wrong with his armour, Apaxus slung the bolter onto his shoulder and marched back up the ramp of the Land Raider.
"Brother Apaxus," the Stormseer, Codicier Regeren, greeted, "Is your armour's machine spirit sufficiently blessed?"
"Of course, brother," he replied, "A true Astartes is always in tune with his armour."
That was one of Regeren's quotes, and it brought a smile to his face to hear his own.
"Excellent, brother," the elder marine grinned, "Join me in observing these tactical scans."
The whole inside wall had been equipped with a screen, currently displaying tactical information from the front.
"Your opinion, Apaxus?" His squad sergeant, Guirius, inquired.
He studied the readout. In the five weeks the Ninth Company had been on the planet, the force had covered many miles of ground, but the short range scanners (the only ones working) indicated both no respite in the sandstorm and that the 86th was no closer to the Necron artefact.
"This device will be the end of us," Apaxus cautioned, "This search has already killed members of our force."
That was true. In the weeks preceding they had been attacked by small parties of Orks, a Judicator Battalion of Necrons and a Harlequin scout troupe.
"What do you recommend?" Guirius inquired. Guirius always asked his second in command for his opinion, which now befell the white-helmeted Veteran Brother.
"We should call an Exterminatus," he recommended, "Dispose of the artifact and declare this world Excommunicate Traitoris."
"A good plan, if I do say so myself, but I'm afraid it won't work."
The voice came from Baranius Uilik, Captain of the Ninth Company and one of the heroes of the Ghakor Intervention. He stood on the access ramp, before striding into the Excelsior's hold.
"Captain! I...was not aware I should've been expecting you!" Guirius exclaimed.
"This is still Stormseer Regeren's operation," Uilik explained, "However, Chapter Master Zarrius has ordered the entire Ninth Company to deploy."
"I did not realize this operation was so serious," Apaxus said.
"Oh, but it is," Uilik replied, "Zarrius wants this artifact more than the Inquisition does, and we shall fulfill his wish."
"I see," Guirius responded.
The inside of the Land Raider fell silent as the four men stared towards the data readout.
"Stormseer, is everything alright?"
Codicier Regeren stepped away from the circle as his eyes began to glow. "There is...a heightened psychic presence coming soon."
"The artefact is near?" Apaxus asked.
"No, the Necrons are Pariahs," the Codicier replied, "This is consistent with...a ship entering realspace."
"But...there are no ships near," Guirius commented.
"The Webway!" Apaxus exclaimed.
"Prepare a defence," the Captain ordered, "I have pre-battle...business to attend to."
"I will attempt to locate the Webway portal," Regeren informed. He stared out into the sandy wastes, his eyes shining with pure psychic energy. Inside, only Guirius and his number two remained. "
Gather the squad," the sergeant ordered, "Form a defensive perimeter around Thunderhawk Indefassus. The Thunderhawks are our only means of leaving safely!"
Apaxus nodded and dashed out of the Land Raider.
The Indefassus was one of the five Thunderhawks comfortably parked at varying locations along the front, acting as both a forward operating base and a repair station for the many vehicles involved in the search. The Indefassus was currently operating as the latter, with a Taurox Prime (named 'Dauntless' according to the ornate Low Gothic written across the turret) partially resting on the loading ramp, being attended to by a very neurotic Enginseer and exasperated Techmarine.
Apaxus speed walked past, avoiding the Enginseer's screams ("Bless you, you Omnissiah-damned machine spirit!"), and turned his attention to the squad of Astartes also resting inside the forward hold.
"Quite a racket, eh, sir?" Marine Cullinos quipped.
"I'm afraid now isn't the time for that," Apaxus sighed, "Possible Eldar or Dark Eldar raiding party incoming. The Stormseer is attempting to give us an ETA but by that time it'll be too late."
The squad was divided into two categories. There were the four rookie marines, fresh out of the Scout Squads and equipped with Bolters, whose jobs were to grab ammo and provide suppressive fire, and the four other marines, the experienced weapon operators. Two of them, including Cullinos, had a Lascannon, but the other two had missile launchers.
"Strategy, sir?" Polinix asked. In most squads, the veteran brother was not called sir, instead simply being called "brother" and looked upon first for wisdom. However, Captain Uilik had been looking for a new veteran sergeant to lead his command squad, and it was no secret that Guirius was first choice. The squad had been informed beforehand that this was their last battle with Guirius, although they had not predicted it to drag out this long. Thus, it was generally assumed that Apaxus would succeed him, and so the men were already showing him respect he did not as yet deserve.
"We hold the line," Apaxus explained, "We let the 86th take the beating and reinforce from behind."
"Understood, sir," Cullinos nodded.
"Squad, prepare for battle!"
Devastator Squad Guirius snapped to a salute and marched off to take their position.
Mere kilometers away, the Webway opened and out burst the first wave of the Dark Eldar raiding party. Two full gangs of Hellions zipped out from the gate, supported by three Voidravens. The force screamed through the sandstorm and hurtled towards the Imperium's lines.
"Incoming!"
Scions dived for cover as an implosion missile collided with the soft earth, destroying anything within meters of the impact zone. Apaxus stood fast and kept his bolter trained on where he thought the enemy would be. Behind him he heard the whirring of gears as a Hunter AA tank trained it's Skyspear Launcher and fired. Many hours in the Forge with the Techmarines had taught him that whenever one of these oversized launchers fired, you did not have to worry about what would happen next. "Stand ready!" Guirius ordered, his combi-melta high in the air as he held his hand up gesturing to hold their ground. Apaxus checked his drum magazine and squinted down his boltgun's scope. Being a veteran had its perks.
Suddenly, a wave of alertness hit Apaxus. Astartes of the Dark Hunters, as a rule, had heightened senses, but Apaxus found that he had especially fine tuned hearing, because of the years he had spent locating things based on his hearing during the Ghakor Intervention. Instantly he grabbed the bolt pistol off his belt and, with one arm, raised it upwards until it was directly perpendicular to his legs. He fired, and the single Kraken round sailed through the air and collided with the source of the whining noise. A flash could be seen before the Hellions came fully into view.
"Open fire!"
The Lascannons and Missile Launchers tore into the group of Hellions, punching a hole in a handful of them and dispersing the rest.
"Brothers! On me!" Apaxus ordered. The rookie marines raised their weapons and fired a destructive salvo of bolts towards the Hellions. They tore through the skyboards' riders, and the now-riderless boards careened into each other. The colossal explosion behind him indicated to Apaxus that the Skyspear missile had hit its mark, however, Apaxus dared not turn around, in case he missed an important detail. Behind him, the Lord Commissar rotated his Taurox's turret forwards and bellowed his next order.
"Advance!"
Apaxus sighed as he and his unit leapt out of the improvised trench and began to close the gap between him and the Webway. He raised his bolter up to his eye and stared down the scope. Acting as a sniper, he slowly moved forward, taking potshots at every Hellion that zipped by. His squad got the memo and followed suit, tracking the Dark Eldar gangers with their ironsights. With each bolt Apaxus either disabled another skyboard or sent another disgusting xenos flying off into the distance.
"Forward, brothers!" He yelled, slowly advancing.
"Archon!"
A messenger scurried from his position over to where his Kabalite leader stood.
"Our forces have been defeated! We've lost the Purple Streaks gang and two Voidravens! What do w-"
"Silence!" The Archon exclaimed, "This artifact is the key to overthrowing Vect and placing the Kabal of the Emerald Axe at the top of the command chain."
"Uh, s-sir?" The messenger stuttered, as he backed away.
"What is it, you infidel?"
The messenger raised a single finger, gesturing at something to the other side of the Archon.
"What is-"
The Archon turned to find himself face to face with a Necron Lord.
"The Phaeron wishes to speak with you," he said in the Necron race's sullen tone.
"What exactly do you want? And who are you?"
The Necron sat on his throne, his crimson shoulders appearing slightly green in the pale light. "I am Phaeron Silinakh, of the Novokh Dynasty."
"But your dynasty operates in the Ultima Segmentum," the Archon protested, "This world is too far west to be part of your do-"
"Silence! I did not bother to figure out how to speak your disgusting tongue just to listen to you complain about my base of operations."
The Archon fell silent, so Silinakh continued.
"I have a proposition," he revealed, "You want the Moonscorcher. I want the Imperium off this world but I don't have the numbers yet. What say we...make a deal?"
"I say that would be beneficial, Phaeron," the Archon smiled.
"Acceptable," Silinakh responded, "Now let us return to the front."
"Apaxus!"
Captain Uilik jogged over to where Apaxus sat, on top of an ammo crate, cleaning his bolter.
"Hail the Emperor, sir," Apaxus said, his arm raised in salute.
"As you were, Apaxus," Uilik nodded.
"What was the death toll, sir?" Apaxus preferred to know exactly who to mourn in his prayers.
"Sternguard Veteran Xeramus and Brother Iopsa from one of our Centurion Squads."
Apaxus looked up, quizzical. "Centurions? What are they?"
Uilik smirked. "That does not surprise me," he explained, "They are a Mechanicus creation, and we all know about the Chapter's stigma towards the Mechanicus."
This was true. The Chapter had been founded specifically for the purpose of fighting the Dark Mechanicum, and although some of the animosity had faded over the four millennia the chapter had been active, it was still present in oldtimers like Captain Rederus of the Second Company and Luchtin Zarrius.
"These are war engines," Uilik continued, "Twelve foot tall mobile weapons platforms designed to encompass a user's power armour."
Apaxus nodded, still closely following.
"Traditionally, these suits are operated in squads of 6, and with the passing of Brother Iopsa, I need another trooper to fill the spot."
"I see," Apaxus said.
"Iopsa's suit is being repaired back at the Achluo but we have a new suit waiting and I want you to pilot it."
"I'd be honored, sir," Apaxus replied.
"Excellent," Uilik finished, "Meet me by the Indefassus as soon as your weapon is clean."
The suit's name was "Servitutem". The name was written along the metal plate attached to the machine's torso, held in place by a metallic skull and laurel. The machine itself was massive. The chest had six missile launchers split into two groups of three, a group on either side of the chest. On the arms were two Heavy Bolters, each with their own massive drum.
"Step around back and give me your helmet," Uilik ordered. Apaxus did as he told, and stood behind the colossal machine. The machine's gears began whirring and grinding against each other, as the Cog Mechanicus, painted a dull grey to signify the chapter's distrust of the Mechanicus, rotated 90 degrees. The two exhaust stacks swung outwards, and the back of the leg plates also opened up.
"Step up, please," a Techmarine gestured, checking the status of the Centurion suit on his portable readout. Apaxus stepped into the machine. The leg plates clamped shut, and the exhausts swung back into place. Two serfs clambered up the arms of the Centurion and prepared to put on his helmet. This wasn't Apaxus' usual helmet, but instead had two circular vents on the face plate and other subtle differences that identified the suit as a Centurion warsuit.
"Beginning First Interface," the Techmarine intoned, as he turned his attention to the portable data readout in his hands.
Apaxus felt cables wriggling into ports all over his armour, as the two machine spirits partnered up and prepared to operate the warsuit together.
"Initial Helmet Interface, now," the Techmarine informed blankly. The two serfs nodded in reply as they lowered the helmet over the Marine's head. Apaxus felt the cool air running through the circular filters on the helmet as the helmet linked simultaneously with both parts of the armour.
"Synced," the Techmarine confirmed.
Captain Uilik and Apaxus were now alone together in the forward hold of the Thunderhawk.
"Walk around," Uilik requested. Apaxus stepped forward, and the armour followed suit. He began to stride around, weapons at the ready.
"Shoot that target," Uilik ordered. Just outside the spacecraft, a target had been set up, which consisted of a metal plate attached to a broken autocannon barrel. Apaxus raised one of his arms and aimed at the target. He pulled the trigger located inside the fist housing and a 1 Cal rocket propelled nuclear bullet erupted from the barrel and hurtled towards the target. The target shattered, sending metal flying.
"The missile launcher fires on mental command," Uilik informed, "But don't shoot in here."
"Dismount," Apaxus ordered. The machine spirit complied and the serfs scurried back up the armour. They removed his helmet, and once again the Cog Mechanicus rotated, the armour opening up. Apaxus fell backwards, colliding with the steel floor.
Uilik outstretched his hand. "That's a feeling you'll have to get used to."b
Apaxus grabbed it and pulled himself up. "Couldn't agree more, sir."
Hurried footsteps echoed throughout the gunship. Both Astartes turned to find the Codicier Stormseer Regeren standing on the ramp.
"Ah, Allius," Uilik smiled, "Have you found the artefact?"
"Yes," Regeren panted, "And the Necrons have it. They've partnered with the Dark Eldar and they are advancing!"
"Mount up, men!"
Apaxus followed the other five men into the Thunderhawk named Peratlius. Six suits of armour stood empty on the hold floor, Apaxus' suit Servitutem second to furthest away. The men leapt straight into the suits, their serfs sliding their helmets onto their heads.
"You're Apaxus?" The marine to his right asked.
"Yes, sir," Apaxus managed to squeeze in before his helmet was lowered onto his armour.
"I'm Sergeant Tyrio," the red helmeted man introduced. His arms bore Lascannons, and his chest carried a missile launcher.
"Wish I could stay and chat, sir," Apaxus quipped, "But I've got some Necrons to tear apart."
"Can't say I disagree with your attitude," Tyrio agreed, "Let's move."
"A Necron assault is an interesting event in itself, but combined with the speedy forces of the Dark Eldar, the force seemed insurmountable. Pzornas held his new allies to a low standard; their armour appeared flimsy and weak, while their demeanour in combat was equivalent to sex-charged Flayed Ones. Nonetheless, Pzornas raised his Gauss Blaster and proceeded to open fire on the Scions charging towards him. Three shots rang out, and the Novokh Dynasty Immortal fell over. Two of the bullets collided with the glyph on his chest, damaging him, while the third pierced and traveled straight through his skull.
"Good shot, rookie!"
Apaxus lowered his heavy bolter. He had just killed an entire unit of Immortals and not wasted a single round.
"Don't call me 'rookie'," Apaxus called back, "I've had more experience than you!"
Quartius, his new squadmate, laughed. "Not on Centurions, you haven't," he chortled.
"So," Apaxus asked, his bullets tearing through a squad of Kabalite Warriors, "You been doing this long?"
"32 years," Quartius replied as he cut down a pack of Flayed Ones, "Although only seven on Centurions. Tyrio's the most experienced, he's spent 38 years on these babies."
"I see," Apaxus said, as one of his heavy bolts penetrated a Tesla carbine, causing it to blow up and take down the rest of the Immortal's squad.
"Say, where's the captain?" Apaxus questioned as one of his missiles knocked a Tomb Blade into the rest of its unit, which in turn collided with a Cronos, creating a massive explosion. Ahead of him, an extremely ornate set of Centurion armour, edged in a light bronze-gold, and with a piece of parchment on each leg, reading "Mementote" on the left and "Ghakor" on the right, marched forward, sending missiles in every direction. It raised one of its Lascannons and fired, punching a sizable hole in a Talos Pain Engine. It looked straight at Apaxus, and the light blue helmet almost instantly gave the owner away as being Captain Baranius Uilik (Dark Hunters Captains have their company colours on their helmet, whether as a stripe or on the full helmet).
Uilik looked straight at Apaxus, and stomped over to him (crushing two squads of Wyches and a Venom on the way over).
"Apaxus," he bellowed, attempting to be heard over the monstrous din of battle, "How goes your first battle in a Centurion?"
"I couldn't truthfully say, sir," Apaxus admitted, stifling a laugh, "I can't see how I'm doing!"
"Sir, he's a natural," Quartius stated, "I've been keeping a tally and he's killed over twice as many xenos as I have."
Apaxus would've puffed his chest with pride, however, it was currently restricted by his armour, so he instead smiled underneath his helm.
"Brothers," Regeren interjected over the vox, "I'm detecting a rise in energy being drawn towards the Necron lines."
"Is it psychic?" Uilik inquired, his voice having gained a serious and morbid tone.
"Not as far as I can tell, the Warp appears unrelated," Regeren dismissed. While Quartius and Uilik discussed details, Apaxus tuned out and instead looked outwards. He noticed a Triarch Stalker, which had a strange, bulky weapon resembling an oversized Tesla carbine fitted underneath. It's orange glow grew brighter, before-
"Look out!"
A bright orange beam of crackling electricity erupted out and connected with one of the Cadian Shock Troopers from the 1385th. In an instant, he was turned into a flaming, charred corpse, but not before the electricity arced over and attacked everything else around it. In a single second, the entirety of the 1385th Cadian Shock Troopers, starting at full strength, had been reduced to three men and a Hellhound, the rest piles of molten flesh and molten steel.
"It appears to be a combination of a Tesla Destructor and a Heat Ray," Dark Hunters Master of the Forge Gatrius Poranum said over the vox, "The destructive potential is limitless."
"I see," Uilik responded, "Any suggestions on how to stop it?"
"None I can think of," Poranum answered, "But good luck trying to stop it."
"Thanks," Uilik sighed, before the transmission cut out.
"We need a plan, and now," Tyrio pointed out from over the other side of the battlefield.
"I agree, but we need to think," Uilik reasoned, "This thing is dangerous."
I think I might have a plan," Apaxus chimed in.
"If you have any ideas, now's the time," Tyrio said, his voice rising. From the other side of the front, Apaxus could see Tyrio's Demi-squad bogged down by Triarch Praetorians. "
Move all forces over to the eastern flank," Apaxus suggested, "And we'll sneak by and outflank the weapon."
Before anyone could reply, Tyrio's voice appeared over the vox once more.
"Good plan, but hurry. These Praetorians are proving a lot tougher than I thought!"
Necron command was about five kilometers from the front, and half a kilometer away from the Moonscorcher. Silinakh sat in his Catacomb Command Barge, silently observing the battlefield. Next to him, his Archon ally (whose name he truly did not care for) paced worriedly. Out on the battlefield, Silinakh noticed that the three regiments on the western flank had moved to the eastern flank, moving the entire front.
"Hmm," Silinakh thought out loud, "It appears the humans want to move the front."
"It's a trap," the worried Archon exclaimed, "Maintain our front and we'll be safe!"
"Silence!" Silinakh bellowed, "I will have nothing but the utter destruction of the enemy! We shall refocus our front."
"You're making a mistake!"
"If you want the Moonscorcher, you will do as I say. Understood?"
The Archon sighed and sat down on a chest, hands clasped together, his face showing signs of stress and fatigue. It looked like he wouldn't get the Moonscorcher, either way.
"They've taken the bait, let's move," Apaxus ordered. The small force consisted of Quartius, Apaxus, Tyrio and Uilik, all of whom had spent the last half hour attempting to divert the front. The four men travelled in relative silence, preferring instead to think about battle plans. The stomps of their footsteps were muffled by the ground, equal in softness to a standard Astartes Ceramibiscuit that had been left in the Phobian rain for a little while, and the only sound was the whirs and clanks of the Centurion suits. After a little while, they had met at the rendezvous, a sandy hill that obscured the Astartes from the Command Barge's view.
"The plan's simple," Apaxus reminded, "Cover me and I will eliminate the weapon. They won't even see me coming."
"Are you sure, Apaxus? This plan's awfully risky," Tyrio warned.
"It can't possibly go wrong," Apaxus recited confidently.
"Uh, I think it already has," Quartius stuttered. He pointed upwards.
A Doom Scythe hovered ominously over the rendezvous point.
"I was right!" The Archon jumped into the air gleefully.
Silinakh turned to face his temporary ally, a sense of boredom in his voice. "What is it?"
"One of your lords has informed me that there is a heavy attack unit waiting beyond that ridge," The Archon snickered, "The filthy humans have tried to trap us!"
"What do you suggest then, Eldar?"
"Send a fast attack force straight at them," the Archon ordered, "We'll knock them out while you use the Moonscorcher and take out the rest of their forces."
"Jetbikes are fragile," Silinakh countered, "You'll need a backup."
"We send in more infantry after them," the Archon replied, "They can't possibly escape!"
"A well thought out plan, Eldar," the Phaeron of the Novokh Dynasty admitted, "You may proceed."
"I've got Tomb Blades approaching at my 1!"
"I've got Reavers on my 11!"
The enemy plan became obvious. A two prong force would keep them occupied while the Necron superweapon charged and eliminated their entire force.
"What do we do, Apaxus?" Quartius asked, worry in his voice.
"Why are you asking me?" Apaxus replied, equally as stressed, "Captain Uilik's in charge!"
"It's your plan, Apaxus," Uilik shot back, "It's your problem!"
"I have an idea," Sergeant Tyrio cut in. "I'm all ears," Apaxus replied.
"Brothers, missiles, now!" Tyrio ordered. Missiles erupted from the Astartes' chestplates. They zipped through the air, having locked on to the enemy jetbikes, and crashed into them, exploding on contact. The resulting explosion created a sheet of smoke, and Apaxus braced himself, ready for Jetbikes to race through it. But none came, and Apaxus stood up straight.
"Enemy force eliminated," he confirmed over the vox.
"Let's go retrieve that artifact," Tyrio ordered.
The four marines stepped through the smokescreen, hoping to find a clear path straight to the superweapon. Instead, they found waves of Kabalite Warriors, Necron Warriors, Immortals and Wyches standing in their way.
"Your plan worked, Eldar," Silinakh admitted.
"You're surprised?" The Archon smirked, a cocky tone returning to his voice.
"Yes. Now, prepare to fire the Moonscorcher," Silinakh ordered a nearby Cryptek. The Cryptek nodded, and signalled the Triarch Stalker pilot. The weapon began to glow orange.
"Sir, it's beginning to charge up," Quartius informed as his Heavy Bolters made short work of a unit of Wyches.
"We have very little time," Uilik reminded as he punched a hole through a Canoptek Wraith attempting to maul the other forces, "We need a plan, fast."
"I concur," Tyrio said, as his last missile destroyed a unit of Warriors.
Apaxus thought back to what had happened earlier. When the weapon hit the guardsman, it transferred among the other regiment members. It redirected...Apaxus glanced downwards. He had one missile left. If he could redirect the energy through the missile, and disperse it over the enemy force, then it would destroy them!
"I have a plan," Apaxus informed.
"Well?" Tyrio urgently asked.
"If we can redirect energy through my last missile, we might just be able to win this one," Apaxus informed.
"It'll take approximately 5.72 seconds to reach the beam after you fire," Quartius replied. This surprised everyone.
"My specialization is in maths," Quartius explained, "I'll let you know when to fire."
They all retreated back to behind the sand hill and watched the superweapon carefully. However, the Necron and Dark Eldar force drew ever closer, and weren't relenting.
"Come on, hurry!" Tyrio yelled.
"Nearly...nearly...," Quartius said, "Now!"
Apaxus launched his last missile. The rocket engine kicked in and it sailed across the sky. Suddenly, the orange beam erupted from the Triarch Stalker. Midway through their flight paths, the two collided, and the energy redirected. Brilliant strands of orange electricity streaked down and collided with the main xenos force. Most of Silinakh's forces were reduced to molten metal or flesh, and those who weren't had to outrun the fiery inferno left behind afterwards. The enemy broke away from Imperial lines and dashed towards their own base.
"Attention Imperial forces," Apaxus called over the vox, "The enemy retreats. Victory has been granted by the Emperor."
"What happened?" The Phaeron questioned anxiously.
"Those marines..." the Archon stuttered before drifting off.
"You had one job, Eldar," Silinakh stated coldly, "And you failed. For that, you and your forces will pay with your lives."
"Wh-what?"
A nearby Immortal raised his Tesla carbine and fired. The crackling electricity struck the Archon directly on chestplate, killing him instantly, before arcing off at two other Eldar standing around. All around them, Necrons were turning on their former allies and slaughtering them as they ran.
"Novokh Dynasty! Retreat!" Silinakh yelled, once again returning to his native language. The battle had been lost, but this fight was not over.
"Inquisition reports say this weapon was called the Moonscorcher," Uilik informed, sitting down on the crate beside Apaxus, "It's a combination of a heat ray and Tesla destructor."
Apaxus turned away from his Centurion suit and sat down next to Uilik. It had been eight days since the battle, and they were back at the Achluo, the Fortress-Monastery of the Dark Hunters.
"Master of the Forge Poranum managed to get a copy of the design before the Ordo Xenos seized it. Its impressive, but not usable."
"But that's not why you came to see me, is it, sir?" Apaxus asked.
"Smart man, Apaxus," Uilik smirked, "No. After some negotiation, Guirius will in fact become my new command squad sergeant, and Tyrio will take his spot in your old squad."
"So who will take Tyrio's spot?" Apaxus asked, although he had a fair idea as to the person was.
"You will," Uilik replied, "I was initially going to offer a Veteran Sergeant position to Tyrio, but you will also get that."
"But...why?"
"During that battle, I set it up so you would get opportunities to show off your leadership skills. We knew what to do in some of those situations, I just wanted to test you."
"So that missile idea..."
"Oh no, you came up with that one yourself."
"Oh."
"So, what do you say? Are you up for a promotion?"
It didn't take long for Apaxus to find an answer.
"Yes."
+++END+++
A/N: Turn to the next chapter for experimental rules for some of the characters in this fic!
