Rotting plasterboard and dripping pipes. Behind the walls the one constant of the universe scurried away from the heavy tread of the approaching giant. Clacking and whirring, the beast's power armour snarled with a near guttural hatred. Its every movement promising the possibility of unspent violence. He'd tracked the creature here, following its blood trail through the snow and ice that blanketed this portion of the city. In the distance he could hear the crack of las fire and low rumble of treads, but otherwise silence reigned in the abandoned tenement.
In his gauntleted hand the warrior held a deactivated chain sword, a scabbed and ravaged instrument that he'd carried on a thousand battlefields. He could feel the machine spirit within clawing at the activation stud as it sensed their prey was near. The hall he had just turned into terminated in a dead end and the mangled face beneath the Mark II helm allowed itself a small smile. Clever.
The monster erupted from the wall directly behind him, the spines along its back hackled and jaws set wide. In a fluid movement belied by his bulk the Astartes turned on the spot and parried the thing's head with a mighty blow, while simultaneously gunning his sword into a frenzy. Unperturbed the creature came on, its distended and muscled arms lashing out in an uncontrolled fury. Ignoring the dripping gash in its mottled, grey flesh it lashed out at the warrior's face guard and was instead met by the roaring impediment of biting teeth.
Screaming, it attempted to disengage even as the sword cut deeper and deeper. Severing corded muscle and gushing arteries the bestial roar dissipated as shock overtook the thing's mind. Even as the Nails clamped down ever tighter the briefing the World Eater had endured three hours before remained fixed in his damaged mind. Kroot. Xeno warrior species. Its arm now completed severed the creature's lifeblood was fast leaking away, yet the feral hatred in its eyes was unmistakable. Not intelligent, but a pure, depthless, animalistic hunger that the warrior could appreciate. Krootox variant. Evolutionary dead end. The sport all but done the warrior drew his bolt pistol and disintegrated the creature's skull. He'd seen more disappointing failures.
Outside, he could hear the sound of boots crunching in the snow. At least a companys worth if not more. The Nails purred with excitement as his body once again prepared itself for combat, flooding his system with combat stimms and focus enhancers. Advancing out into the yard he faced the guns of over a hundred mortals, who instead of fleeing, boldly held their ground. The warrior smiled again, his face muscles aching with the effort as every man bowed in reverence. The Warband of the Wise, Lord Khost of the Seventh Legion saluted their master.
In the front rank there stood a man apart, a puny thing when compared to the towering bulk which was framed in the tenement doorway. All the same he advanced, gripping his defiled melta gun to his chest plating. Each piece was wrought from ceramite in amusing mimicry of his master, yet on closer inspection one could see the broken heraldry of a dozen Imperial factions. Despite this the low hum and glowing cables rigged up to his power pack indicated life as he to went down on one knee.
"My lord, this area is now secured and we may accelerate our landing." Khost regarded his adjutant for a moment longer than was comfortable and then nodded. Relief spread throughout the company, there would be no executions. At now for least. "Tell me Dakar," his voice rumbled from his helmet speakers, "do they resist?" Dakar could hear the pent up anger in his master's voice and knew what he said next could easily reverse any apparent goodwill. "The PDF of this world have surrendered themselves to you, such is their hatred of the alien. They stand ready to shed blood in the name of our sire."
"Be calm Dakar, I can smell your fear over the odour of this place. My choler is my own." Not waiting for a response, Khost walked through the ranks of his men and out onto the street. The vastness of the hive reared up before him, dominating the sprawling shanty district in which he stood. Originally five separate spires, the city was now one amalgamated pyramid of steel and rockcrete. From the highest tower protruded the shield spire, its tendrils of energy anchored to various stations throughout the city to create an umbrella of impenetrable, ever shifting light. In places however, the defence had clearly receded, with large sections of the curtain wall and their accompanying stations having been destroyed.
It was through one such breach that The Wise now looked as the sounds of weapons fire and shelling echoed ominously out of the dust choked maw. This was not the work of the Blood God's servants, the very precision of the strikes proving well beyond the typical derangement of a Khornate worshipper. Nor was it a testament to any other of the Pantheon. No, this was xeno craft and he looked forward to meeting these Tau and their servants on the field of battle.
x
Something was wrong. Shas'O Van'la Keper Kais could feel it in the air as surely as from the report in his hands. Multiple enemy vessels had successfully broken through the planetary blockade and landed forces in the areas surrounding the hive and if the Kor'vattra were to be believed, the situation in orbit was precarious at best. The savagery of the enemy was as perplexing as the suicidality of their assaults. The humans were well known for their numbers and even an almost casual, sacrificial nature, yet this was madness. Wave upon wave of kamikaze fighters had been used to silence the larger fleet carriers while destroyers and other pickets had run amok, abandoning all concept of formation in their haste to engage the enemy.
Dozens had burned under the enfilade of the Tau guns, only to find the larger predators bearing down on them, launching broadsides and boarding actions as they tore the heart out of the defence. For all of this however, the most disturbing aspect was the revelry which the humans and their allies seemed to display. Reports from boarded vessels spoke of terrible arachnid like forms and monstrous beasts, the things of nightmares, butchering their way through the ships' crews. It was wanton slaughter in place of military precision and Keper knew he and his troops would be meeting their like soon enough.
Encamped within an abandoned Munitorium warehouse in the mid-hive, Keper entered what was currently serving as his command centre. Ignoring the dozens of stations and attempts to gain his attention, he instead headed directly for the primary holo map and the men waiting there. "Well?" he demanded.
"We have advanced ..."
"Not far enough," Keper interrupted. "And now we have an enemy landing at our backs and an apparently immovable force to our front." The soldiers around the table exchanged uncomfortable glances, so much so that the single human in the gathering could interpret the usually impenetrably alien features of his comrades. "If I might sir," he said standing forwards, "I think it might be worse than that." Keper regarded the Gue'vesa with a hard stare. The man didn't flinch.
"Go ahead, Gue'vesa'ui Morden."
Tapping in a quick series of commands he brought up a log of documented PDF comms traffic. "Since we've landed we've made it our business to track the assorted Throne forces and their commanders. Despite losses we're still facing an estimated 80,000 men bottled up in the upper-mid and upper hive. Less than three hours ago we stopped receiving any transmissions from 42% of the ranking officers we'd previously marked from the general staff all the way down to colonel." Keper's eyes narrowed.
"Exactly when the enemy launched its assault on the fleet. But how..."
"Sir," Morden interjected, "I believe they're reinforcements summoned by someone in the PDF. Probably cultists dedicated to the Archenemy. This isn't a coincidence. We're not facing two opponents, only one." At that moment, as far as Morden could tell, confusion was the emotion most prevalent in the room. Keper included.
"What makes you believe in such an unlikely scenario?" demanded one of the Shas'el.
Morden tried not to let his frustration show. Few Tau commanders had experience with the forces of Chaos. Hell, given the range of man's enemies it was far from a sure thing most Guardsmen would ever see a pict of, never mind a flesh and blood, soldier of the Ruinous Powers. Calmly, he attempted to explain his reasoning. "Those 42% of officers are dead. They were most likely killed once it became apparent that help had arrived. Probably for refusing to swear allegiance to their new masters. The same thing will have happened in the rank and file. Only there's no way to tell without more detailed communication data." Most of the officers still seemed if not nonplussed, unsure of what he was describing. To them the Imperium was humanity and any further subdivisions an unnecessary complication.
Thankfully, the Shas'O had no such difficulty in redefining the borders of his universe. "There are only two salient points we now need understand from this information," he said, immediately recapturing the audience's attention. "One, we are caught in the grip of a dual fronted and likely coordinated enemy who will seek to exploit their new advantage. And two, that our enemy has changed and should no longer be presumed to act and behave as we have come to expect." He deliberately turned to each man as he spoke, making sure that no one was left unclear.
"You've all seen the reports and various data points from the orbital battle. There is a savagery in their actions that belies all reason and I have a feeling that before we are done, we'll have had to unlearn many of our former preconceived notions of warfare." A few of the Shas'el seemed discomfited by the idea but held their tongues. Surely Tau superiority would see them through this as it had every other engagement, every other war? A crazed rabble of barbarians would be no match for the Mont'Ka.
Looking back to the Gue'vesa Keper nodded his thanks. "Is there anything more you wish to add, Gue'vesa'ui?" Seemingly slightly nervous now, Morden shook his head.
"I'm sorry sir, I'm no expert. The average infantryman of the Throne is purposefully ignorant of such things. All I can tell you is that what little I heard from rumour and snippets of command chatter. The men up in the hive have sold their souls to the gods of the warp. They're damned, 'root and stem' as my commissar used to say and they'll drag us down with them if we give them half the chance." His face, Keper noticed, had turned even whiter while he'd been talking. This he had learned, was rarely a good sign.
"I understand. The Greater Good thanks you for your service in this matter." Keper was about to dismiss them when Morden seemed to remember himself.
"One last thing, something I was told a long time ago." A genuine tremble entered his voice as the command echelon once again turned to listen. "Tell your troops that whatever they do, don't get taken alive."
The entire room seemed to quieten following this dire proclamation and the Shas'O quickly ushered them out lest their nerves be shaken any more than necessary. They marched from the room, some of them already laughing at the superstitious nonsense the Gue'vesa had spouted. So busy were they trying to appear unperturbed they missed the final warning muttered under the man's breath. "By the God-Emperor, don't let them take you alive."