Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40K or any of its associated characters, all copyright goes to Games Workshop for an outstanding(ly expensive) game and universe. The Original characters are mine though.
Chapter 1: A Dagger in the Dark
Hive Planet Hirand
Spire Kigsik
2200 Hours
A group of three Valkyries roared through the dusk sky in a loose Arrowhead formation, their dark grey hulls rendering them as nothing more than a trio of shadows to the naked eye.
The ground sped by far below at a dizzying pace as a pair of F75-MV engines on each bird propelled the aircraft at nearly 1000 kilometers per hour.
"Stalker Actual, Nomad 1-1. We are roughly One-Seven-Zero clicks out from the Target Area, ETA 10 mikes. How copy over?"
"Nomad 1-1, Stalker Actual. I copy all, has there been any change in the situation, over?"
"Negative, Stalker. Last report from Oracle was that there was nothing new at the DZ. We should be able to get in without anyone being the wiser. Over."
"Roger that Nomad, Stalker out."
1st Lieutenant Jonathan Wolfe turned to his First Sergeant and raised both of his open hands; 1SG Rorke nodded and began final gear checks before the drop.
A simple press of a button on the side of his carapace helmet activated Wolfe's vox unit, he quickly switched the broadcast frequency to the general platoon band,
"Alright men, you guys already heard the mission brief from me earlier. But in case some of you feel asleep in your comfy chairs, I'll go over it again."
A small adjustment copied the map read out from his data slate onto the HUD's of his platoon.
"Oracle managed to get eyes on a traitor guard camp not too long ago. Based on what we can see, the northern section contains facilities capable of housing and maintaining some of their heavier vehicles, so we can expect to see some heavy armor."
The display zoomed in on the traitor guard encampment; the possible vehicle bays were then highlighted.
"There is also a clearing large enough for an orbital dropship in the center of the camp. We're not expecting much in the way of aerial resistance, the Navy Flyboys have that well in hand."
"Also, there are turrets ringing the base, they look to be tarantula turrets with a mix of twin-linked heavy bolters and twin-linked multi-lasers. The turrets are mainly concentrated on the primary approaches, but there are others scattered around, so be on alert. I'm marking the positions of known turrets on your displays now."
The map display zoomed in on a group of bunkers on the eastern section of the base, "Our objective tonight is to neutralize the heretics' ammo and weapon supplies. To that end we have identified these five bunkers as our targets. The presence of the motor pools lends credence to the speculation that this is where the armored elements of the Covenant of Blood might be re-supplying. If this is indeed the case, then it is imperative that we take out those ammo dumps."
The display panned eastward for a few hundred meters, "Nomad flight will drop us off at DZ WALKER, from here we'll meet up with elements of Oracle. They will give us more up to date Intel on the objective."
"Remember boys, this is a stealth op. We make too much noise and we'll bring everyone and their pet daemon down on our heads. We estimate their response time to be roughly fifteen minutes. After that, expect anything and everything to be thrown at us. Good Hunting gentlemen."
With his brief completed Wolfe took a moment to reassess his equipment.
A quick glance at his HUD showed no breaches in his carapace armor; his hands automatically went through the motions of inspecting his Ryneworks-Pattern Hellgun, smooth, precise motions confirmed the lack of any cracks in the outer casing, a brief tap on the power supply ensured that it was secured in place, a button-press brought up the smart-linked sight feed and displayed it on his HUD.
After securing his Hellgun a hand idly brushed across his chest, mentally counting and sorting the grenades that hung off of his Load Bearing Vest.
The hand moved downwards and pulled out his sidearm, the slug-throwing pistol was neither as advanced nor as sophisticated as the rest of his equipment. However, it did feature a suppressor, which was invaluable for covert operations like the one occurring tonight. While his Hellgun might have superior range, accuracy, penetrating power, and overall combat potential; his simple pistol allowed him to quickly and quietly neutralize humanoid sentries without having to close to melee range or giving away his position with the blue-hued beam of light from his Hellgun.
A quick motion released the magazine from the weapon and pulled the slide back into a locked position. A cursory inspection showed that the weapon was clean and functioning properly. The magazine was slid back into the weapon and the slide released, the safety was then engaged and the weapon holstered.
Wolfe's eyes panned over to the chronometer displayed on his HUD, five minutes had passed since he ended his conversation with the pilot. His cyan eyes panned over the eleven other men in his Valkyrie, there was no question about their skill in battle; they were all chosen from their regiments because of their prowess in the art of war. Some days he wondered why he was even needed, the platoon could handle itself in combat with effectively no input from him, other days he cursed his rank as he sat in his office signing off on requisition slates, After Action Reports and Operations Orders.
He caught the eyes of 1SG Rorke, who gave him a thumbs up, the men were good to go.
"Stalker Actual, Nomad 1-1. We are coming up on the DZ, doors opening."
The rear door of the troop bay lowered on hydraulic arms, while the side doors next to the crew chiefs slid open as well.
Wolfe felt the Valkyrie come to a hover and motioned to his men, "Ropes, Ropes!"
Three centimeter thick Nylex ropes were kicked out of the hovering dropship, the ends coming to a rest a foot from the Rockcrete ground.
"Go, Go, Go!"
The Grenadiers took to the ropes in groups of three. Thick assault gloves protected their hands from the incredible friction heat of the rope as they slid down to the ground.
The first group hit the ground in less than five seconds, immediately rolling out from under the rope and into any available cover; the second element was already halfway down.
Wolfe mounted the rear rope and pushed free of the troop bay of the Valkyrie, the short slide to the ground left his fingers uncomfortably warm as he moved into cover.
"Nomad 1-1, Stalker Actual. All boots on the deck, over."
"Stalker Actual, Nomad 1-1. Solid Copy, Boots on the deck, moving to holding pattern, out."
The ropes disconnected from the Valkyrie with a short snap and fell to the ground in a coil.
The whine of the VTOL's engines increased in pitch as the aircraft further defied gravity and accelerated away into the midnight sky.
The world took on a greenish tinge as his low-light optics on the side of his helmet relayed sensor data into his HUD. A yellow waypoint flashed into existence as he studied his surroundings. His men were barely visible as their black and dark grey uniform colors allowed them to fade into the debris at night.
1SG Rorke motioned to him, a moment later his vox opened up, "Eel-Tee, Second and Third squads have our flanks and are ready to move. I've already marked the RV, Oracle should be waiting for us there."
"Thank you Rorke, we have little time to spare, get the men moving."
A few brief motions and the squad quietly swept from their positions and into the city, the men stayed out of direct light and constantly scanned the various shadowed windows and doors. Hive Spire Kigsik had long since been evacuated; Imperial units in the area had permission to kill anything not wearing an Imperial uniform.
Thirty meters from their RV, the point-man clicked the Vox and raised his left hand in a 'halt' before slowly moving into cover.
Wolfe crept up to the man, "Report."
"Two man patrol thirty meters ahead, they've got flak jackets and autoguns, no IFF ping."
Wolfe nodded before turning to two of the men in the squad; he tapped his suppressed sidearm and pointed at the patrol. The men nodded and slunk off into the shadows ahead. A moment later a pair of muted coughs was heard and the patrol died silently with their voice boxes shot-out. The bodies were dragged into an alley and dropped into a pile of refuse.
A brief inspection of the equipment carried by the patrol yielded little, "Poorly maintained Flak armor, auto gun with ammunition, combat knife and not much else. No personal effects, no communications equipment."
Wolfe nodded, "Good. That means they won't miss these guys for a while yet. Dump them and let get going."
The group moved up, not long after, Wolfe found himself staring down Oracle as he gave the answer to the challenge phrase.
"Light"
The infrared targeting laser swept off of him as the sniper resumed his vigil over the street, "Stalker Actual, Oracle 1-1. Stalker 2-1 and 3-1 have already arrived, over."
"Copy that Oracle 1-1, we're making our way over now. Out."
Wolfe studied the interior of the abandoned hab-block that became Oracle's ORP, "Has there been any change in the objective?"
"Yes Lieutenant, last we checked there were heretic armored units in the depot, we counted three Leman Russ' and a score of Chimera APC's. The vehicles are in the Northern section of the facility, it is likely that their crews are there over seeing their vehicles as well."
"We will also disable the power to the turrets. That should by your teams enough time to infiltrate the compound and detonate the ammo caches."
Wolfe took a moment to contemplate the change in the situation, "Roger that, we'll call in Nomad if we need the AT, otherwise, we'll stick to the plan. Third and Second will deploy on the base's Western perimeter, they'll plant secondary charges on any sensitive targets, fuel and barracks. First will enter from the eastern perimeter quietly plant the Det-charges and get out. I will be deploying with First, 1SG will be with Second and Third. Any questions?"
The men remained silent.
"Very well then. Oracle, we'll be moving into position. Neutralize the turrets when we give the go."
"Go."
A dull *thud*, timed to match the monolithic report of a basilisk battery nearly 40 kilometers away, goes unnoticed. The one kilogram armor-piercing incendiary shell similarly goes unnoticed, as it punches into the transformer station that siphoned the power from the generator into the defensive turrets. A brief show of sparks, ignored due to the already poor maintenance, signaled both teams to begin.
Second squad crept forward in the shadows as Third squad kept vigil, remotely detonated charges were quietly emplaced adjacent to fuel tanks and empty vehicles, random debris was added on top to camouflage the explosives. With their task complete the men slunk back to a safe distance and waited for the signal.
First squad quickly moved forward making for the ammunition dump ahead of them. Unfortunately, they had thirty meters of open ground to cover.
Wolfe slammed into the Permacrete outer wall of the first bunker and took a moment to catch his breath, a momentary peek around the corner showed a lack of guards in the area. A quick pair of vox-clicks caused the men to smoothly move to breach the bunker.
The building was empty of inhabitants, but Wolfe's eyes panned across hundreds of lasguns and autoguns, he also picked out the empty slots. There were enough rifles missing to arm a whole battalion of troopers.
A quick inspection of one of the weapons showed that the imperial sigils had been crudely filed away. Seemingly random icons were instead scratched into outer casing of the weapon.
Wolfe's lip curled in disgust as he turned away from the defiled weapons and observed his men.
Demolition charges were quickly placed to catch the largest amount of weapons in their blast, and to bring the building down on the rest.
The team pushed to the next bunker, this time encountering a massive amount of frag and krak rockets. The process continued, each bunker seemingly dedicated to a single weapon type or ammunition type.
"Golden Throne…."
Wolfe's eyes widened at the sight before him, several one meter tall black conical shapes stood out in the confines of the final bunker.
"Corporal, what's the count?"
"Sir, there's seven warheads total but…"
Wolfe stalked over to the man, "What?"
The trooper shakily gestured to the final warhead, "Sir, that's a Vortex warhead, I've not the faintest idea how the crazies managed to get their hands on one."
Wolfe paused for a moment before he came to a decision, "I'm breaking radio silence, everyone standby."
"Hawkeye, Stalker Actual. Do you copy?"
"Stalker Actual. Send message, over."
"Pinnacle – Empty Quiver, I say again Pinnacle – Empty Quiver. Over."
"Stalker Actual, say again your last, over."
"Pinnacle – Empty Quiver, over."
"Hawkeye, I count seven, I say again, seven warheads. Six Thermo and one Magic, over."
There was a brief pause over the line before a new voice spoke up, "Stalker this is Hawke, we cannot let those warheads be used against us. Secure them for transport if you can, blow them if you can't. How copy over?"
"Solid copy sir."
"Good, Hawke out."
Wolfe turned back to the squad, "Set up the charges, we're blowing the warheads."
"Corporal, can you rig those things to blow?"
The armored figure of the man shrugged, "There's not much I can do to the nukes. Regular explosives would crack the seals but it won't detonate the device. I don't have the codes or the time to crack the detonators, but I can rig that Vortex to go off with our charges just fine."
"Get to it, we're on the clock."
With the final charge placed, Wolfe tapped the vox back to Oracle.
A shout and a gunshot cut him off.
Wolfe dove for cover and brought his Hellgun to bear, on one of his own men standing over the corpse of a dead traitor guardsman. The grenadier pulled his combat knife out of the body's neck, wiped the blood off on the brown-grey fatigues and slid it back into its holster.
A soft growling could be heard as the heretic weakly grasped for his killer's ankle. Hate and bloodlust glinting in his eyes and etched across his face as he feebly attempted to exact revenge on his killer.
The grenadier brought his armor-clad boot down upon the questing hand with a sickening crunch, before firing a single shot from his sidearm into the body.
The solid slug escaped the barrel at subsonic speeds and proceeded to remove the grey brain matter from the heretic's skull and spray it onto the ground beneath him. The blood pooling under the cooling corpse was almost black in the low light.
Wolfe strained his ears, attempting to hear if anyone had noticed the commotion. He was not disappointed, shouts could be heard as sentries roused the unaware and the sleeping, the base's alarm began to blare and spotlights snapped on around the base. He could faintly hear the distant rumble of vehicle engines roaring into life as tank crews shouted to each other in an attempt to coordinate.
"We've been compromised. All elements are to fall back to the RV. Oracle, knock out the spotlights, or we're not making it five meters before getting shot to pieces."
First squad stacked up on the inside of the bunker door, a heartbeat later the spotlights went dark the promethium generator that powered them disabled with a shot straight through its vital components.
The squad advanced out of the bunker swiftly, azure beams sliced through the night air and neutralized the traitor guard forces that threw themselves at them piecemeal.
The high-powered energy bolts easily punched through the poorly maintained flak armor and into the flesh beneath. The intense heat and energy flash-boiled the impacted area and the results were explosive and bloody. Each flash of azure light is accompanied by a mist of vaporized blood and pieces of dismembered limbs.
Wolfe tore across the thirty meters at a dead sprint, diving over the rubble on the far side. He grunted as the wind was knocked out of him from the impact.
Taking a moment to catch his breath, he observed his men getting on line with him and returning fire on the heretics. His attention was understandably attracted to the mass of traitor guardsmen firing upon his position from the bunkers. His eyes were then drawn to the hulking silhouettes of a trio of Leman Russ tanks and a pair of Chimera APC's.
A massive explosion rocked the area. Flaming promethium sprayed into the air and rained down upon the facility, distorted human voices roared out in pain, in rage. Some rolled on the ground in an attempt to douse the flames that rapidly swallowed them whole. Others turned their weapons on their comrades in blind blood lust and rage, eager to spill blood before their deaths.
Wolfe was grateful for the Mark XI re-breather currently sealed to his tri-dome helmet. The smell of burning human flesh never did sit well with him.
In a more immediately useful sense, the re-breather also allowed him and his platoon to breathe as the ever-increasing flames began to suck the oxygen out of the surrounding area.
The armored vehicles that were bearing down on Wolfe and First Squad stopped, as if wracked with indecision. Some began to turn back to the fuel depot, others continued to advance to the ammunition dump.
"Nomad 1-1, Stalker Actual. Requesting Airstrike. Over!"
"Stalker Actual, Nomad 1-1. Negative, there is too much thermal activity down there, I can't see who's who. You're going to have to mark your position or the targets, over."
"Roger that Nomad 1-1, Marking positions with Blue Flares, Hostile forces are between the Flares, Attack direction North. You're cleared hot over!"
Wolfe took a moment to inform his platoon, "The Heat's coming, get blue flares between you and the enemy!"
A moment later a blue flash arced over the rubble first squad was using for cover and landed in the middle of the open field. Two more blue flares lit up in the distance, on the other side of the camp.
"Stalker Actual, Nomad 1-1. I have your position, I have your targets. We are coming in hot. Keep your heads down. Out."
Wolfe tuned his vox back to the platoon channel, "Everyone is to fall back to the EZ. We are not staying here. Oracle should have already secured the site. Let's move people!"
A distant sound, like thunder, could be heard approaching. Slowly at first, but soon the rumble rapidly turned into a roar as three pairs of F75-MV engines each pushed 14 tons of the Emperor's Divine Wrath at 500 kilometers per hour.
The fires cast a faint light over the approaching gunships, crimson optics and targeting sensors seemed to fade out of the darkness and smoke like the eyes of some daemon of old.
Nomad 1 began the attack run, opening up with his multi-laser, peppering traitor positions with energy bolts, before engaging with FFAR. Sixty-four dumb-fire rockets tore out of the twin rocket pods on the Valkyrie at nearly 1200 kilometers per hour.
The High Explosive Dual-Purpose Warheads made the rockets very effective against a broad range of targets.
A Leman Russ tank caught two in the rear armor. The high explosive warhead detonated against the engine block, shattering the rear of the vehicle and sending flaming promethium and shrapnel flying across the kill zone.
Another rocket detonated in the middle of a group of infantry. The one kilogram warhead simply erased the heretics in the immediate proximity.
Those further out had their muscles and tissues blasted off of their skeleton by the initial shockwave and their skeletons charred by the following fireball. The remaining heretics outside of the immediate kill zone were blasted off of their feet and burned by the detonation.
The barrage had barely cleared the craft before the crew chiefs let loose with the Heavy Bolters mounted on the side doors, raining 0.75 cal mass-reactive projectiles into the disoriented and shocked mass below.
"Nomad 1, Winchester."
Nomad 2 immediately followed in after Nomad 1, his nose-mounted Las-cannon spoke with a deafening crack of ionized air and speared a Leman Russ through the turret. Smoke began to pour out and a second later a massive fountain of fire shot up out of the tank as the ammunition inside cooked off.
"Nomad 2, shack, enemy armor knocked out."
The Valkyrie flashed over the traitor mass rippling off its rocket pods as it went. The volley of rocket fire slammed into a Chimera APC as it was traversing its turret in an attempt to engage the VTOL craft.
Explosions racked the armored vehicle, optics shattered, weapons rendered inoperable, armor cracked and shattered, and spalling turned the inside of the vehicle into a death trap as thousands of razor-sharp fragments of admantite shredded everything within.
"Nomad 2, Winchester."
Nomad 3 dived down and focused on the remaining armored vehicles in the area. A full barrage of rockets tore through the relatively thin roof armor of the vehicles and several bursts with the Las-cannon finished the last vehicle. Nomad 3 pulled out of his dive and resumed position in formation.
"Nomad 3, Winchester."
The three Valkyries sped off into the sky, leaving the objective a cratered and flaming hell. Burning wrecks of Leman Russ's and Chimera APC's littered the central parade ground. The fuel dump was surrounded by flaming promethium; the burned and charred bodies of the traitor guard lay in their hundreds.
There was no structure over two feet high left standing, only the ammunition bunkers remained intact. But even they had great craters gouged into the roofs and sides caused by stray heavy weapons fire.
In a span of thirty seconds, the sprawling facility was reduced to a moonscape dotted with flaming ruins of what once was.
"Stalker Actual, Nomad 1-1. Enemy armor neutralized, estimated seventy percent casualties among the remaining ground forces. Be advised, we have spotted a sizable enemy force advancing to the facility. Over."
"Nomad 1-1, Stalker Actual. Roger that. Do you have an estimate on the enemy force size, Over?"
"Uhh, I'm seeing a full column of armor and what looks to be at least two platoons of foot soldiers, over."
"Also, be advised. We are close to bingo fuel. We can loiter for ten minutes, fifteen at most. After that, we're not gonna have enough to make it back to base."
"Stalker Actual confirms all. We are on our way to the EZ, ETA five minutes. We'll see you there. Out."
"You boys sure took your sweet time. Second and Third squads are loaded up and ready to go. Oracle is split between Nomad 2 and 3."
"Oh stuff it Anderson and get this bird in the air."
The previously idling engines whined as the 14 ton aircraft rose into the sky.
"Yeah, yeah. Wolfe, auspex reads that the enemy reinforcements have finally reached the facility."
A change in pitch could be heard from within the troop compartment, the faint whine became a thunderous roar as Flight Lieutenant Anderson opened up the throttle. The troops inside felt a faint force pushing them sideways towards the rear of the VTOL before the inertial dampeners compensated.
"Good. Rorke?"
"Gladly."
An armored thumb firmly pressed down on the activation stud. A brief vox pulse shot out of the Valkyrie's transmitter in the direction they were traveling from.
The silence lasted for a heartbeat.
For the briefest moment a bright multi-colored flash outshone the rising sun and a shockwave could be seen racing outwards at the speed of thought. Then everything began retreating backwards towards the blast, dust, bodies, wrecked husks of tanks were all thrown back into the gaping maw of the warp. The passengers within the aircraft each grabbed a handhold as the Valkyrie struggled against the insistent pull of the vortex.
"Everyone hold on to something back there, this is gonna be a bit rough!"
The airframe groaned and trembled as the whine of the engines grew into a deafening roar. Wolfe looked out the open rear door of the dropship back towards the hole in reality he had torn open.
Suddenly the multi-colored warp spectacle winked out and the Valkyrie jerked forward as if the elastic cord holding it back snapped.
"Hawkeye, Stalker Actual. Mission complete, all Ghosts are returning to the Grave, over."
"Hawkeye copies all. Orbital imagery confirms the destruction of the objective. You'll be pleased to note that the resulting blast and vortex caught roughly 96% of the heretic forces responding to the alarm, along with what is believed to be a squad of Traitor Astartes. Out."
An armored fist smacked into his shoulder, he turned to see Rorke's scarred face bearing a satisfied smirk, "You've been playing with expensive toys today boy?"
Wolfe nodded an affirmative and gave Rorke a brief pat on his armored shoulder before sitting down on one of the seats inside the troop bay.
His hands came up to fiddle with his helmet, a faint hiss of breaking atmospheric locks accompanied the removal of his black helmet.
Cyan eyes stared at the blood-red visor of his facemask, a moment passed and he hung his helmet off of his canteen on his LBV.
His eyes scanned over the interior of the troop bay, his men were conducting equipment checks, trading jokes and stories about the events that occurred.
A quick look at the chronometer on the inside of his wrist determined that he had roughly two hours before the Valkyries returned to base.
Wolfe closed his eyes as he leaned back against the armored hull of the Valkyrie. It was best to catch sleep whenever he can. One never knew when they could get a full night's sleep in the field.
A small smile graced his face as the gentle rumbling of the Valkyrie and the muted roar of the engines slowly lulled him to sleep.
'Sleeping on Duty, Commissar Ralios might have me shot.'