Chapter 2: Lightning Strikes
Date: 7344459.M41
Location: White Scars Forward Base, Praetor IV
Night found the three Brother-Captains of the companies to be involved in the battle stood under a large palatine tent made of the skins of giant herbivores from their home world and decorated with symbols and runes sacred to both the chapter and the primitive spirits their ancestors had worshipped. The light rain that had fallen for the latter half of the day had all but ceased now, much to the relief of those assembled. Trying to maneuver their combat bikes and infantry when the field was a massive bog would have seriously compromised their edge against the more numerous and heavier armored Orks.
The chart table that emitted a holographic map identical to the one that they had viewed aboard the Wings of War stood in the middle of them, Garuss's carefully laid plan standing out clearly against the azure hologram, each critical movement outlined in phases which it endlessly cycled through, each squad clearly marked with a tiny banner denoting its company, type, and load-out. The rest of the companies were going about their various duties, tense and eager for the morrow's battle, their white power armor making them seem like bulky ghosts in the distance. Mauktaul shifted his weight, the motion causing the mud under his boot to squelch annoyingly, the sound prompting Dvun of the 6th Company to speak.
" Thanks be to Khan and Emperor for a break in the rain. I would not have liked to try and enact your battle plan out in deep mud. As it stands we will still have some difficulty, and the cleaning afterward will be tedious, but it will keep the men from becoming idle while on our way to the next conflict. "
There were murmurs and nods at his statement, most of all from Mauktaul, who, much to his internal chagrin, had failed to bear such matters in mind. It would be a long time before he made that mistake again, hopefully not before his death. Deciding to push the matter from his mind the Captain of the 3rd Company swept his gaze over his two fellow Marines, both of which he had fought beside for close to a century.
" I understand I will be expecting a lot from you, from your sergeants and from each and every Marine under our collective command, but I wouldn't have proposed such a plan had I not the utmost confidence in their abilities. I regret that our intel on the disposition and size of the Ork horde is suspect at best, but I anticipate being out-numbered at least ten-to-one. A pity for them that each of ours is worth twenty of their best, " Mauktaul stated with a ghost of a smile on his lips.
" You give the Orks too much credit, Brother, but to be truthful Nytroblud's boys seem a little cagier than the average Ork. Their Kult of Speed forces handle their traks well, and unlike much their misbegotten race they understand the purpose and reason for a feint, " Captain Skarl of 7th Company rumbled, a man big even for a Space Marine, his skin the nut brown of the tribesmen of the upper steppes back on Chogoris, his scars ridged lines along his cheeks and brow.
" Regardless, our scout bikes will be able to give us better information once it is light and we have precious few hours between first engagement and now. Let us brief our companies and speak less of the merits of one particular enemy over another. In the end they are all but obstacles to our purpose out here amongst the stars. The Emperor protects and the Primarch watches, " Dvun said in parting, ducking low under the edge of the tent's hem which still glistened with beads of water in the faint light. He was always like that before a critical battle, drilling his men over and over regarding their orders and contingency plans, but once he was actually on the battlefield he was focused solely on seeing those orders carried out, almost to the point of obsessive mania.
" Well said and well advised. See you tomorrow at dawn, " Skarl agreed, forced to push the tent's edge up as well as stoop to avoid it, leaving Mauktaul alone with his holographic map. The Marine Captain stabbed a button at one corner with a finger sheathed in thick ceramite and watched as the image on the chart table flickered out like a gutted candle. There was time enough for one final check on his equipment, a few prayers to the Emperor for guidance, and several of hours of sleep.
Mauktaul's hand was mere inches away from the haft of his chain spear when a series of explosions suddenly erupted far to his left, where most of the assembled land speeders from the three companies were at rest. Immediately Marines were racing to the scene and some sporadic bolter fire could be heard over the dying roar of the fiery blasts. Grabbing his weapon Mauktaul launched himself into a full run as well, clods of mud flying off the soles of his boots. The brilliant orange plumes were dissipating into grey smoke lost amongst the cloud cover that still hung brooding over the region by the time the captain had made it within sight range of the source of the explosion. Three land speeders lay in smoking ruin, the ragged metal edges looking as much melted as they were torn by the force of the blast. A full squad from his very own 3rd company were scanning the perimeter with their bolter rifles raised, and it was not so dark that Mauktaul could not see that they had been fired recently.
" Man down! Call for the Apothecaries! " one of them shouted over his shoulder, a sergeant by his markings, taking his eyes off the surrounding gloom for but a moment.
From his position Mauktaul could indeed see a white foot belonging to a power armor suit lying beside one of the heaps, and took up the call as well.
" Here, captain! " a voice called from close behind him, one of the chapter's medics only half-dressed in his own power armor suit jogging up beside him, narthecium field kit in hand. Knowing the medic would need no prompting to begin performing his duties Mauktaul stood clear and instead approached the non-com whom he recognized now as Sergeant Cassir, 5th squad.
" Make your report, sergeant, " Garuss ordered tersely, Techmarines swarming the vehicles with canisters of flame-retardant foam to douse any open flames.
" We were on guard as ordered, Captain, we had paused to exchange a few words with the Techmarine working on these speeders, and then Brother Vress said he spotted something to our nine o'clock, twenty meters out. We had barely got our heads and weapons turned around when there was a blur of movement and the sound of metal-on- metal. We opened up on the infiltrator as it fled, but seconds later the explosion had us all ducking. Once it was over we moved to this position and found two men down, another Techmarine and one of the speeder pilots from 7th Company. Nothing else to report sir, you can see the rest, " the grim-faced sergeant finished, gesturing with his head to the wreckage.
" Ork saboteurs, " the voice of Captain Skarl broke in, coming to a stop a pace away from Mauktaul, " the Imperial reports said they had suffered attacks at their rear flank from Kommandos using melta bombs during their assault on the Ork landing zone. Far too sneaky and under-handed for my sensibilities, " he snorted in contempt.
" But a valid strategy nevertheless. Sergeant, I will have your stripes if you don't tell me how an Ork managed to sneak to within spitting distance of the camp with you on
patrol! " Garuss snarled, taking a step towards the non-com and, while they stood at roughly the same height, Mauktaul seemed to tower over his brother Marine. The sergeant looked as if he had been struck, his expression of shock soon becoming one of staid acceptance. It had been his responsibility, after all.
" Captain, I accept full responsibility for the death or injury of my fellow Marines while they were under my charge. I should have been doubly vigilant when our camp was but two klicks from our enemy's, I figured that the flat terrain and with Ork's usual lack of patience, that…. " Cassir began, unable to meet his commander's eyes, but was interrupted in perhaps the only way something of this gravity could be interrupted by; another explosion. This one was far to the south of the camp and sounding like many, smaller reports than only a couple of large ones.
" By the Emperor! " Muaktaul said with equal parts rage and concern. Then, inclining his head towards his power armor's collar, spoke on the central vox system.
" Company sergeants! Apothecaries! I want every Marine with their eyes open and a bolter in their hands, secure my camp's perimeter! Squad bike squads, mount up and await orders to pursue infiltrators! I will not be picked apart piece-meal by filthy
xenos! "
His string of orders met a multitude of affirmations from all over the camp, Garuss then turning his attention back to the sergeant, but only for a moment. " Sergeant Cassir! You will face disciplinary action when time permits, right now get your squad out on the perimeter and this time keep your eyes open! "
" Yes sir! " the non-com answered morosely, double-timing it with his squad it tow to the outer edge of the camp.
" Apothecary, how fares our wounded? " Mauktaul inquired tersely, looking to the crouching medic.
" Not good, Brother-Captain. Techmarine Yilhenna died instantly from the blast, I can't tell where ceramite ends and bone begins. Brother Jhu'shan is still alive, but barely. He will require extensive cybernetic reconstruction and therapy to once again return to the field, if ever. He may yet request the Emperor's Peace once he regains consciousness, " the Apothecary stated grimly, his lips set into a firm line and his eyes raging with emotion as he grieved even now over the death and injury suffered by his comrades. Muaktaul merely nodded in response. Jhu'shan was well within his rights to request that he die rather than be an unproductive member of the chapter, barely twenty years of service rendered before this happened to him.
" Understood, Apothecary. Call down a Thunderhawk and get Jhu'shan back to the battle barge to see what they can do for him up there, as well as Brother Yilhenna's corpse and equipment. His gene-seed and weapon will serve the chapter still. "
" Yes, Captain. " the Space Marine medical officer confirmed, with solemn reverence grasping the handle of the pincer-like Reductor from his narthecium and beginning to pry charred metal from burnt flesh, seeking out one of the two Progenoids within Yilhenna's body. An unpleasant but necessary task, and one left solely in the hands of the chapter's Apothecaries. Mauktaul waited only long enough to be sure that at least one of the precious gene-seeds would be safely withdrawn before stalking off to the area of the camp where the most recent attack had taken place.
Rows of regulation tents occupied this side of the White Scar's forward base. They were only allotted four hours a night in which to sleep, and every Marine, thanks to rigorous self-discipline and the Catalepsean Node implant, could go up to two weeks without sleep if necessary. Such measures were pretty extreme, however, and Mauktaul preferred to keep his Marines at their very best before a major battle. A small cluster of White Scars with an Apothecary caught his attention and he strode towards them, eyes scanning the darkness past them and chain-spear held firmly to be used at a moment's notice. He received three brisk salutes from the trio of Marines, the Captain noticing that the two non-Apothecaries sported fresh wounds on their faces, looking perfectly alert and able otherwise.
" Report, " Garuss commanded to no one in particular, looking them over. The Apothecary had a pair of slender metal tongs in his fingers, a gory bit of metal clenched between the two pincers.
" Captain, " the elder of the two Marines began, lowering his hand to his side once again. " Ork infiltrators tossed a bundle of frags into the middle of the sleeping quarters. Everyone is present and accounted for, only minor cuts and scrapes like this to show for it, " he informed, gesturing to both his own face and that of his companion. " Against regular troops their would have been casualties, but they underestimated how tough both the tents and the Marines in them were, thank the Khan. "
Mauktaul nodded in agreement. He could do with a few less dead Marines.
" Did anyone get a positive sighting? "
The Marine paused in his speech momentarily as the Apothecary reached forward with the tweezers and deftly plucked another bit of sharp metal from one of the wounds, the man not even flinching as he did so, nor did the wound bleed, instantly clotting.
" Yes Brother-Captain. One of us spotted an infiltrator dashing back to the cover of the trees, and we opened up. Half of 4th squad went to up confirm the kill, with squads three and one providing cover. They are still there if you wish to see for yourself, " the injured Marine finished, pointing to the camp's southern perimeter, only paces away. An evenly spaced line of fully armored Marines stood along it, heads sweeping back and forth along the distant foliage for even the tiniest sign of movement.
" As you were, " Mauktaul said with a curt nod, " Get patched up and join the patrols. They'll be no sleep tonight men. "
" Yes Captain, " the three said as one, saluting again as the Apothecary finished his work.
Garuss moved further along the row of tents so straight they looked to have been pitched with laser guidance, coming up to the line of Marines and, as two of them twisted about so he could pass through, walked towards where several Marines had taken up a defensive half-circle. Around what, Mauktaul could not readily see. His boots sloshing and slurping in the mud he came to a stop several paces from them, looking to the ground to see what they had felled.
" Brother-Captain, one confirmed kill. Unarmored Ork with two frag grenades, a long knife of questionable craftsmanship, and a bolt pistol of some sort, " one of the three listed off mechanically, taking his hand off of his weapon only long enough for a lighting quick salute and to gesture at the neat pile of mud-splattered weaponry on the sodden ground. True to standard procedures the Marines had put a bolter round between the Ork's eyes and immediately placed the xeno's weapons well out of easy reach. One could never be too careful or sure around a supposedly dead Ork.
The outline of the corpse was difficult to see even with Mauktaul's enhanced vision, the Ork having smeared the entirety of its barely-clad body with a thick layer of mud so that not an inch of green showed. This would act as perfect camouflage against the dark ground, and would mask its thermo-graphic profile as well considering how thickly it was applied. Crouching down for a closer look Garuss peered at the inflitrator's teeth, its jaw slack in death. Even the Ork's many teeth and the inside of its mouth had been dyed black somehow, looking to be a permanent change than just for this particular mission. Mauktaul had never heard of such a thing, in all the myriad reports and stories he had heard of involving Orkish behavior. This Ork, and his fellows--as the Captain refused to believe that only one xeno was capable of all this--showed a patience and dedication to a very un-Orky form of warfare that troubled him greatly.
" Captain, I suggest we get back to the perimeter. I've never heard of an Ork sniper, but if I were them I'd use the death of a comrade to try and lure a commander out of position and attempt something, " the Marine who had saluted him warned, still scanning the shadows.
" Quite right, Marine. Bring the xeno as well, and his equipment so that it may be properly destroyed. There may be those in the Ordo Xenos who was interested to see if this Ork it a mutation or the dyeing was ritualistic. "
The Marines scrambled to carry out his orders, one clenching the inflitrator's weapons in one palm, leaving the other free to hold his bolter rifle. Another grasped the Ork corpse by the wrist and began to drag it, while the third slowly back-pedaled, sweeping the muzzle of his bolter over the darkened surroundings. Mauktaul walked with them, casting his gaze around as well, silently daring any lingering Ork Kommandos to show themselves. Had they, that last thing they would have thought was how brutal and swift an angered White Scar could be.
Date: 7345459.M41
Location: White Scars Forward Base, Praetor IV
Dawn was nothing but a grey promise on the planet's clouded horizon when the White Scars began their final equipment checks and mustered for deployment. Their scout bikes had torn dark, criss-crossing paths along the slate-hued mud of the plain as they performed their duties, confirming that indeed a large Ork force was gathered just outside the edge of the industrial complex. They were some three-and-a-half thousand strong, even the keen-eyes scouts admitting that the horde was such a shifting morass of green skin and roaring vehicles that their numbers could be slightly smaller than estimated. There also apparently didn't seem to be any reserves or artillery standing by, the scouts daring shoota fire to confirm this.
Brother-Captain Garuss Mauktaul was standing atop his custom built chariot, a heavily modified war bike with the rear of the normally two-wheeled vehicle expanded to include a space for the officer to stand and an angular, waist-high ceramite rim along the front and sides. The severed head of Tyranid Warrior head, a trophy of a past campaign, adorned the very front with a lightning bolt carved into its chitinous brow, adding its fearsome visage to the appearance of the unusual cycle. Other emblems and symbols decorated the outside of the chariot's protective rim, while the inside contained a vox system for relaying orders, hand-grips for steadying the rider, and a twin-linked bolter pistol in a metal holster welded onto the left side. The entirety of the rear component rolled on two thick tires of its own, sacrificing some maneuverability, but giving its skilled passenger free use of his long, deadly weapon without needing to control the direction of the vehicle.
Muaktaul could handle a standard combat bike with the same awe-inspiring skill that any fully-trained White Scar could, tearing open foes with a mixture of firearm and power lance and then slipping clear in the blink of an eye. However, since becoming a Brother-Captain, Garuss had found that his more obvious profile and ability to issue orders without having to first move himself clear of danger kept his men at their very best, and so cast aside the heady thrill of carrying himself forward in a thunderous charge like he had in years past. If it meant more Marines were alive after the battle, he would make that sacrifice time and time again.
All around him the White Scars companies had set up as they had been briefed, the thrum of their engines vibrating the air around him, the teeth within his mouth, the bones in his body. He shivered at the thought of the battle that was about to begin, reducing all of the complexities of life down to their most primal levels. Faith was no longer words in books or in sermons, but what you needed to live to see the next second of life. Courage was not some cold, distant thing spoken about over a grave, but coursed through the veins as thick as blood, urging the next step forward, the next strike. He and all his Brothers lived for this, and would gladly die for it too, as long as the day was won for the Khan and the Emperor.
" Placing the bait, commanders. You know what do to, " Mauktaul said over his armor's vox system, banging the haft of his chain spear on the chariot's floor as a signal to start forward.
" The riders of the White Scars will not fail, not now, not ever, " Captain Dvun responded, revving the engine of his combat bike to emphasize his words.
" This plan seems almost a waste to use on this rabble, but we will see it done, Brother, " Skarl 'tsked' over his own vox caster, standing atop the seat in his Typhoon variant Land Speeder.
Mauktaul steadied himself as the modified war bike picked up speed, coming up on the three Rhino transports, designated Alpha, Beta and Delta, that were the lynch pin of the first phase of his battle plan. The three armored troop transports sat a good half-kilometer ahead of the rest of the White Scar forces, seemingly alone and unsupported.
" Brothers, my share of honor for this battle I gladly give to you. You will be in the thickest of the fighting from the very beginning, and what's more you will be without the mobility that we prize above all else. You will feast with myself or the Khan after this battle, so give everything you have and be merry for it, " Garuss shouted as he passed between two of them.
" What is the terror of death, that we die our work incomplete, " a voice, grim and steady responded to him over his power suit's vox, sounding hollow as it bounced around the interior of the Rhino. It took Mauktaul only a moment to recognize it as Sergeant Cassir, still with his squad and in the steel bowels of Rhino Delta. He would likely lose his command once they were back aboard the Wings of War, but then again, there would be plenty of opportunities for him to prove his worth anew very shortly.
The mechanized chariot then departed from any sort of cover or support, steadily covering the ground between the White Scar forces and the cacophony of shootas, trak engines and bloodthirsty Ork screams ahead, a small speck of white against a sea of grey mud. They were just as the Scouts had described, ten times their number and barely controllable after their admittance to the city was denied, the Speed Freaks tearing restless grooves into the soft earth as they waited for the order to advance. Mauktaul's approach had garnered a fair bit of attention from the Orkish forces, as he had hoped. His apparent vulnerability would set the precedent for the Rhinos, some easy bit of carnage that the horde could sink their collective teeth into. Small divots of mud traced their way towards him, bullets thrown from some over-eager boy on the left flank. Mauktaul did not flinch as they sparked off the rim of his armored enclosure, more than certain that Ork's notorious inaccuracy and his superior armor would keep him from harm.
They drove until they came to within two hundred yards of the xeno forces, at such a distant every snarling face and every guttural word easily discernable.
" Slow, but do not stop, just as we planned, " Mauktaul said quietly to his driver, Brother Aphyr.
" Yes, my Captain. They will not over-take us. "
Aphyr turned the chariot so that it drove parallel to the Orkish line, excitement rather than fear slipping through his nerves at the prospect of what was to come.
Garuss swivled his head and torso to face the loathsome greenskins as more shots pinged against his vehicle and dug into the ground around him, but neither Marine gave any indication of trying to avoid it.
Finally, Mauktaul spoke, the speakers located on the sides of his armored stand carrying his voice along the entirety of the Orkish horde.
" I know you, Waaghh of Cappel Prime. I know your warboss as well; Nytroblud the Fasta, Nytroblud the Red, Nytroblud the Coward! " the Brother-Captain roared at the mob, receiving an angry wall of noise in response.
" Where is he? Why is he not at the very front of your lines, leading the charge? I come before you alone, unafraid, but where is your leader? Show yourself! " Garuss continued.
Shootas chattered, chewing up the ground around his chariot, and a few plumes of mud erupted nearby from poorly aimed rokkits impacting. One round from a particularly heavy caliber weapon struck Mauktaul in the upper torso near his shoulder, causing him to grunt in pain and stagger backwards, but he quickly righted himself.
" Brother-Captain? Are you alright? " Aphyr asked, his voice full of urgency.
Pushing past the pain which flared up with each new breath Garuss responded, quietly.
" Yes, Brother, keep driving. The Orks are beginning to waver. Stay the course. "
Mauktaul was correct, The Orks were no longer all facing forward, some of the larger ones craning their necks to see where their boss was along the massive lines. Nytroblud was canny and had a healthy desire to keep living and leading, but the discipline he instilled in his boys would evaporate to nothing if he did not come forward soon. Both the Marine and the warboss were playing a dangerous game now. Mauktaul had to last long enough to draw him out and force him into the fight. Nytroblud had to show himself and lead the charge, thus exposing him to the possibility of dying. He would not wriggle free of Garuss's grip like he had in the Cappel system.
Finally there was a stirring amongst the Ork ranks, wartraks parting as something moved forward from the rear echelon. A chant began amongst the greenskins, which Mauktaul could easily hear at this distance; the word "fasta" over and over again, growing louder and quicker with each shout. With eyes turning to see the arrival of the warboss the incoming fire on Mauktaul's chariot lessened, something he was silently grateful for. He did not fear death, but he knew that dying here and now would not serve the Chapter very well at all.
A large, crimson figure moved to the fore of the Orkish lines, looking to be made more of metal than flesh. Aphyr turned the chariot about so that they headed back down the line closer to where the warboss was making an appearance. He was a fearsome sight, a thankfully rare example of the skill both Mad Doks and Big Meks could achieve if they were allowed to live and learn for too long. Nytroblud rolled, rather than walked to the very front of the Orkish lines, having surrendered the legs he was born with to instead be fused to a wartrak permanently, giving him the speed he so desperately craved. Covered in metal plates from the waist up the warboss was about as thickly armored as a tank, a massive iron gob protecting most of his face while a single glowing red eye peered out from the darkness created by his helmet. Nytroblud's left arm had been replaced for something more single-minded in purpose as well, a weapon nodule consisting of a multi-melta and a heavy flamer, good for both ripping armor apart and burning infantry in close quarters. His right was still flesh and bone, but was sheathed within a power fist that humming with energy, the three thick hydraulic fingers whining as the warboss rhythmically clenched and unclenched his fingers.
Every metal bit of the warbosses' gear was drenched in red paint, from the peak of his helmet to the trio of exhaust pipes which constantly spewed black smoke on each side of his trak lower body. The only silver showing were from the various scrapes and wear a life of battle left on it, and that which had been burnt off around the barrels of his weapon arm and exhaust ports. Red was the color of speed among the Orks, and for someone like Nytroblud, a symbol of his personal philosophy. We are alike in that way at least, Mauktaul thought, we wear our colors proudly, letting friend and foe alike see us for what we are. That is the only parallel I can stomach making with this wretched alien.
" You appear finally, I was beginning to wonder if you really had died on Cappel Prime. Small matter, you've only exchanged a death on that planet for a death on this one, " Garuss snorted, speaking once again on the loudspeakers.
Nytroblud's answer was to emit a gout of roiling orange flame into the sky from his flamer, a growl issuing from his massive throat preceding his words.
" Shut yer gob, lily-pants. Youse wanted tha boyz 'ere fer a scrap, youse got tha boyz 'ere fer a scrap. Now, tha rest of yer boyz gonna join in, or dey tha ones that're hidin' now? " the armored behemoth roared back, drawing crude laughter from his fellows.
" They await your charge, xeno, I just wanted to see if your 'boys' were as fast as they think they are. Catch me, if you can! " Mauktaul shouted suddenly, Brother Aphyr recognizing the queue to begin heading back to the White Scars forces, immediately turning the chariot back towards friendly territory and gunning the engine. A spray of mud and a thunderous mixture of engine, shoota and screams followed seconds later as the Speed Freaks, recognizing a challenge when they saw one, eagerly set off after the lone vehicle.
" They're gaining, Brother, " Garuss informed his driver tersely, watching as the tracked vehicles of the Kult drivers grew larger and larger, the guns affixed to their steering columns chattering constantly.
" This mud slow us down, Captain, " Brother Aphyr responded as he altered his path slightly to try and throw off their pursuers aim, " we'll make it though, the Emperor protects. "
Frustrated that his already daring plan was becoming dangerously close to costing him far more than he wished to pay Mauktaul turned himself around and grabbed for the twin-linked bolter pistol, leaning against the back of the enclosure for additional support.
Taking aim with the weapon Garuss drew a bead on the nearest trak while speaking over his power armor's vox.
" Rhinos Alpha through Delta, coming in very hot, be ready. Whirlwinds One and Two, plot final firing solutions immediately and fire on my mark. "
Turning his full attention back to his own survival Garuss opened up with his bolter pistol, 10mm rounds ripping through the head and upper body of the trak's driver and sending the Ork vehicle careening away as the corpse slumped against the handlebars. His fellows were completely unperturbed by their comrade's death, cackling madly as they dodged around the slowing vehicle and continued to gain on the chariot. Decades of firing weapons while moving over uneven terrain had made Captain Mauktaul an incredibly proficient shooter, two more wartraks falling by the wayside as their desperate escape neared the Rhinos. Behind the Kult of Speed boys the rest of Nytroblud's forces had lurched forward, the more heavily armored Kans and Dreadnaughts, as well as trukks laden with 'Ard Boyz and Flash Gits to the point that their engines screamed in protest just to achieve forward momentum. The gap widened between the two chunks of Nytroblud's forces, now was the time.
" Whirlwinds, fire! Bike squadrons, wait for us to clear the Rhinos and then move up your respective flanks. It's clockwise, remember, clockwise! "
" I will kill the first Marine I see going the wrong way. Leave those sort of mistakes for the conscripts, not the Emperor's finest! " Captain Dvun threatened over the vox channel, meaning every word.
The distant whooshing roar of missiles slipping free of their tubes reached Mauktaul's ears moments after they were airborne, thick trails of spent propellant tracing their trajectory over the entirety of the White Scar forces and beyond. A short series of loud reports was heard then, the warheads on the missiles bursting apart in a shower of casings and dozens of dark specks falling to the ground below. These were Castellan missiles, designed to rapidly deploy a lethal mine field over a section of land to slow an advancing army's charge or retreat. Only the very tail end of the faster traks were caught by the mine shower, several of them bursting apart in a blossoms of fire, mud and body parts. This was a deliberate part of the Marine Captain's plan, cutting off the Kult of Speed members from immediate support by the heavier elements of the Orkish forces. The daredevil Orks cared nothing of what was happening behind them, still charging heedlessly forward, many of them likely thinking that the missiles had over-shot them and the White Scar's battle plan was beginning to fail. Let them think this as my Marines tear the life from their bodies, Garuss thought with a smirk.
The chariot was barely twenty yards ahead of the wartraks when they reached the Rhinos, Mauktaul beginning to issue more orders as they reached the waypoint.
" Combat Bikes, forward now! They are too close for me to risk pulling them back any further. I will remain with the Rhinos until the Cantabrian circle is complete and then join the firing line of Land Speeders. Rear Tac squads, begin advance. "
The one hundred combat bikes of the chapter's 6th company, fifty per flank, burst forward as their thick tires tore up the damp earth, riders eager to engage the Orkish horde as Mauktaul's chariot made a sharp left turn and moved along the small row the Rhinos created. Laughing manically the Speed Freaks set upon the unmoving transports with glee, launching rokkits, stikk bombs and jovial death threats at the white-painted personnel carriers. More than a few continued their pursuit of the chariot, the rest encircling the Rhinos as the Marines within them began to fire out of the gun ports. The transports shook and buckled as multiple impacts rocked their exterior, the going for the Marines inside as rough as Garuss had expected it to be. He had ordered them to be reinforced with ablative armor plates and to be filled with only minimal levels of fuel to lessen the effects a ruptured tank or fuel line might have, but still….
By the time the initial force of Orks had surrounded the beleaguered Rhinos the White Scar's 6th was roaring past them, the left flank going further forward and then turning to the right while the opposite flank began to turn left almost as soon as they nosed past the line of encircling Speed Freaks. Power lances outstretched to their left sides and braced with power armor assisted strength the charged blades began to find targets as the right flank bikers tore along the length of the amassed wartraks. Once they reached the end of the Rhino line they turned off to the right, just as their fellow bikers from the other flank were turning in for their chance at cutting away the Orkish riders.
" Assault squads, advance at best possible speed to your respective sides. Land Speeders advance, bolter fire only, seal the trap, " Garuss ordered over the sound of his pistol firing, scoring more hits on his determined pursuers.
Powerful jetpacks with short but effective wings affixed to the backs of their power armor the two Marine assault squads of the 3rd company jetted forward, the edges of their chain swords a grey blur as the teeth moved along the outer edges, promising grave injuries to any which felt their touch. Over fifty strong despite the losses suffered over the night, the line of Typhoon variant Land Speeders hovered easily over the muck, the heavy bolter turrets mounted under the nose beginning to fire on the wartraks as they advanced. There was little chance of damaging the already ravaged transports with their anti-infantry weapons, the density of the surrounding Orks acting as a sort of barrier as well. What had started as the Rhinos being completely surrounded and seemingly doomed had swiftly been reversed on the attackers, their rear blocked by the circling combat bikes of the 6th company, their front by the Land Speeders of the 7th, and their sides by the assault Marines who were just now landing and entering the fray.
The plan was not without its price, however. Rhino Beta nearly toppled onto its side as a rokkit punched through its heavily armored fuel tank, all fire ceasing from the gun ports as the Marines within were tossed around like leaves in a wind storm. Garuss gritted his teeth and clenched his weapons tight as he saw several of the 6th company's bikers edge too close to the mine field and suddenly be thrown skyward as their cycles tripped the sensitive mines or fell to concentrated wartrak fire.
" Tighten your circle, bikers! You've driven on worse, there is no excuse for sloppy handling! " both Mauktaul and Dvun practically yelled at the same time over the vox system.
By this time the slower Ork forces had encountered the mine field, pushing ahead heedlessly as they watched their fellows getting slaughtered and many of them falling to exploding mines. The ones who cleared the deadly field met the outer edge of the 6th company's Cantabrian circle, power lances and bolters punching and slicing Ork flesh and metal. Trapped and panicking because of this the Kult of Speed riders began to lose focus, either desperately seeking to escape or to do as much damage as possible before dying. Some rushed the Land Speeder line, many not advancing more than a score of meters before being felled by the combined fire of both the vehicles and the tactical squads that had by now moved in line with them from their position at the very rear of the White Scar deployment zone. Others had slightly more luck pushing out the sides, barreling past the assault Marines who still took their toll in lives as they dodged aside or upwards to avoid being run over. As it stood, almost a third of the Ork forces were now dead or dying, with only a handful of Marines down.
His power armor scratched and pitted from the amount of hits he had sustained, the rear left tire of his chariot little more than a few shreds of synth-rubber on a rim, Garuss was nevertheless alive and pleased things had progressed as they had. He had anticipated his enemies reactions well, and they had suffered because of it. Still, there was plenty of fighting left to do, his modified war bike coming to a lurching halt as he observed the Orks heavy armor element had mostly cleared the mine field now and were tearing into the bikers with a vengeful ferocity. It was time to begin phase two.
