AN: Yup, after nearly a year, I'm back. For the few who might have enjoyed reading this fanfic, I apologise for the hiatus. First year of Univ was... challenging, and although I did work on the chapter on and off over the year, I never was totally satisfied with the pacing, mood, and characterisation. Oh well, I'll have no progress if I just keep reediting my stuff, so here it is. But before that:
Review response:
mr I hate znt nobles kill em: Yes, the term Wormlords is the Imperial term (Or rather, the Arieli PDF term) for the Hunters. I figured that the Imperium, being much more Xenophobic then the UNSC, would definitely come up with a different term. The Arieli PDF in particular have special reasons to call them Wormlords.
"Tom, guard my back, with some Emperor sent luck, we might just survive this…"
"G-got it. Right behind you."
"And just use the bloody laspistol for the Emperor's sake!"
A cold gust of wind swept down the dark and damp alley. Eerie whistles and rustlings were heard as it swirled into the yawning mouths of pipes or collided with the restless objects within the narrow backstreet. It was hard to imagine that any place within a battle could be so isolated from it, and yet it was.
Just two buildings to the side of the alleyway a one sided firefight was being concluded. It was a main street, allowing for four lane traffic either way. A surviving PDF corporal had rallied a few desperate militiamen, but the Covenant assault force quickly overran them. As the militiamen were butchered by the superior firepower of a platoon of traitors, an Elite got close enough to engage the corporal in hand-to-hand combat.
It was a quick duel. The lizardlike xeno easily swerved away from the bayonet thrust to his abdomen, and severed the corporal's head with a quick slash to his neck.
Even though the scene happened less than forty meters away from the alley, the two individuals currently proceeding though it were only dimly aware of just how close they were to enemy combatants. As the two PDF troopers cautiously stalked the dimly lit passage, the only reminders of the not-so-distant war was faint rumbling of gunfire and the slight tremor of buildings, punctuated by distorted sounds of the combatants.
From a glance, they had definitely seen action recently. Their pale grey outfits were smeared with the brown of dried mud, and were worn at a few of the joints. The dull grey helmet that the front-most person wore was not only smeared with mud, its side had a long and narrow dent; a telling sign of a bullet had nearly found its mark. The helmet was of simple design, thin plated with a vague resemblance to the helmets of the Armageddon Steel Legion; it was built more to protect its wearer from concussion causing debris than from bullets and shrapnel. Its dubious protective qualities did not do much to console the second trooper, who was helmetless and dejectedly wondering if his bright blond hair would make it easier to target his head.
"Try to keep up, and don't to make too much racket." Zoe instructed. Even as she did so, she deftly moved forward, her swift steps keeping her away from the dubiously colored puddles but at the same time placing her body behind the cover of whatever obstructions there were as she weaved her way through the alleyway. Tomas tried to follow suit, but struggled to keep his balance as he navigated pass the many pipes and piles of junk. Luckily, Zoe adjusted her pace for his convenience. They continued to swerve and turn for a few minutes as their made their way through the numerous backstreets. After a while, Tomas got the hang of the fancy footwork. Something occurred to him.
"Zoe, do you know where you're going?" He asked.
"Not really. But I know the general direction and where not to go." She answered, "We want to stay as far away from the main roads as possible, but if we meet a hostile patrol in here, we're pretty much screwed. That's why I try to take turns that would lead us deeper into this complex." she took another turn that led them down a flight of grey stairs. "So keep your ears and eyes peeled."
Tomas gulped. Narrow and winding corridors basically meant that any encounter would be quick and bloody. "Do you have any grenades left?" he asked, as he ducked to avoid a protruding pipe.
"Nope, that's why I'm so worried." She rounded yet another corner, but then abruptly stopped. "Ah… damn." She swore.
"What's wrong?"
"See for yourself, we're almost in the end of this alley." Zoe edged back behind the corner, her hand signaling Tomas to take her place. He moved to the point position with alacrity. Sure enough, there was an exit no more than a few meters from his corner. On the other side of the exit was a road, far smaller than the wide boulevards of the primary intersection Tomas had just fought in, but at least twice as large as the minute alleyway he was in.
"Well," came Zoe's voice from behind him "we could try backtracking to the trisection we passed a few minutes ago." He'd been with Zoe long enough to know she didn't like it. Chances were that that route would be a dead end, or even connect to a major road, seeing the direction it headed to.
"We could try our luck with the undercity…" He pointed at an old, black colored manhole. Realizing just how dangerous it was even as he did so. A repressed groan from Zoe was proof enough that she held a similar perspective. "Forward it is then." He concluded.
They edged their way towards the exit moving as carefully as they could. Just like all the other passageways they had passed, there was the random junk and furniture discarded here, along with the messy jumble of pipes that protruded out of the walls. One of the larger pipes was painted a bright red, and hugged the wall. The way it snaked its way upwards reminded Tomas of Emil's prominent vein that always bulged out whenever he got too passionate about something.
This very unprofessional moment of personal reflection was brought to an abrupt end when the sounds of splashing water and stomping boots alerted him to the presence of other people. He froze, his eyes darting from one source of questionable cover to the next. The sanctuary of the corner they had recently rounded was too far away now. Desperate, he lunged for the pipe, and flattened himself on the wall behind it. Looking back he spotted Zoe, crouched behind a small pile of garbage.
Neither of them had cover that would be much help in a firefight, nor was their cover exactly concealing. The weight of the bulky laspistol became all the more apparent in his hand. The only hope was that none of the strangers would pause and take a close look at the generic looking entrance. He tried to flatten himself into the wall even more. Belatedly, he remembered that the uplifting primer had a litany for these situations – the Litany of Stealth. Sadly, the sergeant never did bother to look it up. Tomas silently rattled out the litany of protection instead.
Then, just as he started the first figure darted past the entrance. Though Tomas could not see the figure directly, the dim lights of the road etched a silhouette on the grime-encrusted pavement of the alleyway. More and more shadows raced past the narrow widths of the alley, accompanied by the resounding sound of boots as they clambered forward to meet their objective. As they passed, a smattering of discernable words echoed down the corridors. Move… Arieli… Fed'arakh!
Fed'arakh. The Master God of the Shaleen Covenant. If there was any doubt as to the allegiance of those soldiers before, there were none now. He wasn't sure how many had passed, but there was at least a squad's worth of soldiers, maybe even a platoon. As the echoes of the enemy faded, Tomas was faced with the question of what to do next. Then he heard Zoe's whisper.
"Do you hear anyone else coming?" She inquired.
He tried to do the ear's equivalent of squinting, but wasn't rewarded by any new sounds. "No… I don't think so."
"Then we should follow them." Even as she said it she was already slipping past his position, for once looking more focused on swiftness than concealment. Before he knew it, he was already tailing her. She made a quick left and right glance as she reached the secondary road. Apparently it was all clear, for after a quick 'follow me' gesture, she double-timed in the direction the traitors had went.
Silently vowing to keep a lookout at the street behind them, Tomas followed suite. Though he was itching for an explanation, he knew that chances were she had sound reasoning.
It was mildly relieving that they were heading deeper into the complex, or "The Sprawl" as local jargon called it. Being a road designed to (barely) accommodate a groundcar, the turns it had were not as sharp as the passageway Tomas had just walked through. As they traveled, in a pace that Tomas surmised was the fastest Zoe dared to risk, she finally satisfied his curiosity.
It was pretty obvious, she said, that the enemy soldiers had moved with purposeful direction. Either they were retreating to a preset retreat point, or they were moving to reinforce their comrades-in-arms. Hopefully, their rush meant that their friends were in dire need of help, or at the very least, that there was a larger group Tomas and Zoe could link up to.
During the span of a few minutes, in which they had to halt a few times as the unit they were stalking got too close for comfort, the sound of warfare became gradually more defined; A sound of an explosion, the bolter's bark, and finally brisk staccato of autoguns. A blasted gatehouse came into view, and the group ahead of them spread out before moving into the fray. Somewhat more cautiously, the duo crept forward until they reached the gatehouse.
From behind the shelter of one of the crumpled steel gates they bore witness to an ongoing battle. The area was in a roughly round shape, and had wide thoroughfares with what it seamed to be multiple bazaar areas. There were a few buildings, but they were uniformly less than 10 stories tall, much shorter than the towering skyscrapers of the area around the walled plaza. Smoke could be seen rising from several locations father in the complex, and the intense noise of fighting made it clear that there was an engagement going on not far from the gate.
Moving swiftly, both of them quickly reached the first building. Emblazoned with the monocle wearing skull-servitor of the Supreme Auditor's Office, it was six stories tall and was painted grey, with equally dull architecture. Down the street of the structure, in one of the bazaar fields, a full-fledged firefight was raging between the myriad uniformed Shaleenis with the grey and blue of the Arieli PDF and Adeptus Arbites. For once, it was an even battle. The enemy had their way in the terms of heavy weapons emplacements and cover, but the defenders were making use of their superior knowledge of the terrain and Arbites weaponry to the fullest. The burning wreckage of one of the Covenant Beholder APCs attested to the effectiveness of Krak-armed grenade launchers, and as he watched a Traitor position was obliterated by a frag grenade.
Any attempt by the erstwhile loyalists to seize the initiative though, was denied by the suppressing fire of two autocannons and a heavy stubber; who's angry wrath kept the two sides in a bloody stalemate.
Peeking from the side of the Auditor's Office, Tomas felt a rising sense of thrill and trepidation. All the attention of the hostile forces was directed to the front, and to the flanks. None of it was directed behind them… and that's where he and Zoe were.
"They don't know we're here!" He said excitedly, "We… might turn the tide!"
Zoe's countenance was grim as she answered. "Still, there are only two of us. Against at least forty of them." She scanned the confronting forces. "We need to make it count, and even if we succeed, things will still get hairy…" Her gaze rested on him, her eyes filled with determination. For once, he could return it.
A smirk formed, somehow in harmony with the rest of her expression. "Any ideas, rookie?"
He felt his own lips mimicking her as he answered. "Yes… as a matter of fact, there are."
The master map in the control bunker was bustling with activity. Her overworked staff darted from one edge of the room to another in their noble effort to keep up with the garbled flood of data in order. A trio of Mechanicus Adepts warily hovered around the sparking vox amplifier, which was inexplicably working. Fatimah made a mental note to have the Magos bless her boot as well, in case she ever needed to get any machinery working in a hurry. Meanwhile, the Guild and Administratum representatives had left to muster whatever men and materiel they could scrounge up.
Some of them hadn't seemed terribly impressed with her plan, but then again, working with what she had instead of what she wished she had was the reason she was still alive and fighting. That and she tended to plan for the worst, an expensively earned lesson from Investigator Saul and the Arbites. To think that without Vadir and Saul she – and the rest of the 2nd Army – would be rotted carcasses in the plains by now, was a chilling thought.
An anguished moan resounded through the bunker. Instinctively, Fatimah, and nearly everyone else in the vicinity sought out the source of the noise. As the room grew quite, even those who didn't hear the moan were attracted by the sudden silence. Collectively, their eyes homed in on fuming form of Lieutenant Samina, who was in the middle of an ongoing aneurysm. Ignorant to the undeclared limelight, she continued to clutch a dataslate in such a way it looked as if she wished she could rip it to pieces. She slammed down the dataslate on her desk and was about to call one of the Tech-priests, when she realized he was already staring right at her, and so were his fellow brethren. A look of dawning realization and horror slowly spread as her eyes swept the room.
A long and distressingly awkward silence stretched around the bunker. Fatimah was at a decided loss on how to handle the situation. In fact, she was shocked that Samina, of all people, would snap under pressure. Samina had always worked and acted like the penultimate Mechanicus bookkeeper, a rare example of a bureaucrat whom actually got stuff done. She was a zealous workaholic who was obliviously antisocial, mostly since she never knew what being "social" was, and never bothered to find out. Give her an input with background materials, let her record and crunch the data, and voila~, a complete and comprehensive report. She had never shown any indications that she had ever felt overwhelmed in the past… Then again, this was the first time the pile of dataslates actually got quite that high.
Pushing the wandering thoughts aside, Fatimah switched to damage control mode. Samina's sudden awareness of socially awkward situations was both relieving and alarming, and Fatimah would talk with her later. For now though, Samina had to get out of this without too much embarrassment. After all, her position as logistics coordinator made her pretty damn important; the last thing Fatimah wanted to deal with was misallocation of supplies.
"Lieutenant Tredian, what is the status of the SACs in the Grey Area?" She asked, forming her words with careful and clear deliberation. God-Emperor, from the way he was staring at Samina you'd think she had sprouted horns and fangs.
The Lieutenant in question snapped out of his reverie, his body following the lead of his head as both parts swiveled to face her. "Ah, um… The SACs general?" He said sheepishly.
"Yes the Secondary Administrative Centers in the Grey Area, lieutenant. The ones linked to the main transit stations, which we are using to launch our counterattack. What is the status of that area of operations?" She said. Seriously, it was times like this she understood why the lad had been kicked into staff duty. He wasn't exactly dim, but his reaction time was notoriously moody.
"Er, right away General!" Tredian fumbled with his dataslates. The other people seemed to finally take the hint and edged back to their working positions. Good, almost there… Investigator Saul was looking at her with a bemused expression, but then again, he always seemed to regard her command staff as a source of free entertainment. So was Samina, only with abject gratitude all but written in her pale features. When did you suddenly get so bloody emotional? Damn it, I think I liked you more when you actually acted like a member of the Mechani-
"May 'Siah be praised! I've never seen such a quick change in blood pressure. Truly, your fleshy body is unique! You must volunteer to be studied with the utmost haste!" Came a booming and immodestly eager voice.
Emperor's mercy, not YOU. Fatimah inwardly groaned.
Yet there he was. The Adeptus Biologicus adept was already confidently striding towards Samina, his plain brown robe failing to ward of the renewed attention of the bunker staff, partially because it did little to conceal the wires, gears, and hissing pistons beneath it.
To her credit though, Samina didn't look all that frightened at his appearance, as her expression was one of relief. Then again, she was ex-Mechanicus (and was technically still a Mechanicus menial).
Upon reaching Samina, the figure gazed at her, before scanning the pile of dataslates on her desk. The adept made a clicking noise and appeared to scrutinize Samina, before his mechandendrite knocked her in the part of her head that had been replaced by data-wafer compartment. That caused a few unhealthy looking sparks fly out from it. "Hmm… It appears that this lady's synchronization adapters have been slightly overtaxed. If she goes on any further her organic brain could suffer damage."
He turned and regarded Fatimah, and she struggled not to flinch. His face was a mess of flesh and metal, with a gratuitous amount of wires. It just wasn't… consistent. Yes, that was definitely the way to describe him. Most cogboys could be relied on to replace as much of their bodies with gears and metal, but Genetor-Adept Drevenni looked as if he had undergone the transformation into a machine, and then tried to reverse it since he didn't like it. This notion was accentuated by the fact that the silver steel mask he wore had patches of drab pale skin stitched into it… and its photoreceptor sockets were hollowed out – to make room for eyeball containing vats. The eyeballs were suspended in the slightly yellowish liquid, but were punctured in the back by numerous metal fibers that rotated and swiveled them around.
"May I request permission to send this menial to the medicae? She direly needs it… and I can't conduct any studies before she is in optimum condition." The voice was undoubtedly mechanical, but it wasn't monotonous. Which was weird as he had a grille in the place his mouth should be. As for the request itself Fatimah didn't really know what to make of it. Samina didn't look alarmed though, and Fatimah decided to take care problems as they came.
"Permission granted, Adept Drevenni." She answered.
"Splendid!" His voice boomed again, before continuing in a more modulated tone. "Rest assured general, this is little more than a result of strained nerve centers coupled with overdue maintenance. I have handled many menials before, and this is a common occurrence before their nerve systems are augmented." He would have continued had the Magos not cut him off.
"Affirmative Genetor-Adept Drevenni, now please deliver the object to the medicae. Omnissiah's blessing be with you."
"Ah, affirmative Magos Torretas. I shall be on my way." And the adept left with Samina in tow.
The Magos pointedly went back to his duties with a static hiss that could have been a grumble. Fatimah was unsure whether this was caused by the Genetor-Adept or the already foul mood of the Magos. Regardless, this time the room seemed more than eager to follow his lead, with the exception of the tech-priests, who had huddled together. One of the good sides of coming in contact of Drevenni's face, Fatimah concluded.
As she watched the bunker swiftly slid back into its normal hustle-and-bustle. She soon received the status of the Secondary Administration Centers. "The first wave of forces from the outermost SACs has managed to infiltrate enemy territory. Second wave is reporting disjointed bombardment and containment efforts." Lieutenant Tredian reported. He gestured at the previously overrun parts of the Lower District, which now had numerous PDF tags. A few were engaged with hostile forces, but the encounters were sporadic and only signaled localized coordination at worst. He whistled. "One thing's for sure, any trucks or transports they have are going to have a hell'ova time ferrying supplies to the front lines."
"SACs within the proximity of the front lines report heavier resistance, a few have been contained and face termination." Another one added. His face was a mess of auburn hair and unshaved whiskers, from which a single, black-pocketed eye poked out.
"Well, my Arbiters might be a tad green, but I doubt unsupported infantry could keep them pinned down for long. Though this could get hairy if the Covenant manage to divert their vehicles to the besieged SACs." Investigator Saul stated. His gloved hand pointed at a secure SAC area, before moving to one encircled by Covenant unit icons. "The forces from the SACs that have broken through could move in to break the back of any of the containment forces still holding."
Fatimah sighed. Her palm rubbed her forehead as she made her decision. "No, those forces are needed to disrupt the front lines and drive partitions between their main assault units. All the SACs need to look after themselves. They'll hold, I doubt the covenant could bring any heavy vehicles to bear on the beleaguered areas if we preoccupy them."
Even though the promptness of the Covenant reaction was quicker than what she hoped for, it was not as swift as she had feared. Operation Spearbreaker was progressing well. Thanks in no small part due to the Arbites contingency plans.
When the siege of Descartes had started, Fatimah, her retinue, and the rest of the Descartes Defense Council (DDC) had been stunned when Investigator Saul of the Adeptus Arbites had presented dozens of preplanned siege scenarios to them. The theme of each scenario was different, from the revolt or subversion of the planetary government and PDF (to her indignant chagrin), to Ork and Chaos incursions. PDF integrity, threat severity levels, expected siege duration, and a plethora of other variables were obsessively compiled, deconstructed, and studied by generations of zealous arbites analysts who had assiduously mapped out all the contingencies they could.
As it went, their current situation, i.e. besieged by a unknown xeno empire, with PDF concentrations and competency levels not heard of a mere three decades ago, and with government funded fortifications as well as near fanatical support of the local populalion and mechanicus was not one of the mapped-out contingency plans the Arbites had prepared. Still, by taking inspiration from many of the proposals, a suitable and solid defense scheme had been hastily devised. One of the aspects taken from the Arbites was the use of the Secondary Administration Centers.
The original scenario had been dubbed as "Empty Castle Ambush" by the Arbites, and was designed to counter Chaos and Dark Eldar slaver incursions. It called for the utilization SACs and their network of underground trains as transport hubs. Since many SACs were embedded in the deep slums or hab-block sprawls of the Lower District instead of being near the main roads, any fast-paced advance were prone to overlook them. Both air superiority and heavy artillery support could knock out any given SAC in short order, but the former had been negated and the latter severely impeded.
The Administratum and the Planetary Government had set up the SACs under joint cooperation a century ago, after a public pressure campaign by citizen-action groups (and quite possibly an Arbites terror and blackmail campaign behind it). Usually, the land clearing hurdles would be an unsolvable nightmare all in its self, but when the Arbites notion of "Riot Control" was 'Shotgun Shells and Phosphorus Rounds' instead of 'Rubber bullets and tear gas' even the most persistent illegal squatter quickly found other preoccupations – such as being dead. Doing exactly what their namesake implied, each SAC had numerous administrative buildings that helped take pressure off the central administrative centers. They also universally had a PDF station as well as a constabulary, which was the planetary arm of civil enforcement. The SACs also served as feeder system, with underground links to the major subway stations.
Even now, strike forces were employing the SAC transport network to bypass the main enemy forces. Their primary objective was to confuse and shatter covenant coordination before the onset of the second phase of Operation Spearbreaker.
"General, the engineers and tech-priests have completed their work in the downtown area. They're preparing to pull out as we speak." Major Feraldi reported. Although his uniform showed signs of wear and tear like the rest of her staff, his thick curly mustache was somehow invulnerable to the perils of the universe. The rest of his body, on the other hand, apparently didn't receive such ridiculous amounts of the Emperor's protection, and the rotund major looked just as haggard as anyone else once his mustache was taken out of the picture.
Fatimah smiled "I take it the tech-priests managed to overcome their qualms?"
The Major snorted with unmistakable disgust, and was undoubtedly going to say something demeaning only to blanche once he realized the Magos was glaring at him. "Why so uptight Major?" came the caustic voice of the Magos, "Now, if you are under physical stress I am sure I could help treat your malady with this acupuncture subroutine Adept Drevenni has kindly… recommended for me." The Magos said, his red photoreceptor orbs sneering at the poor major.
Fatimah didn't know what akupunktour meant, but it didn't take a genius to realize that the meter-long lascutter mounted on the Magos' mechandendrite would be solving any aches in a clean and medically sane fashion anytime soon.
It was very good thing indeed that Feraldi had worked under the Arbites before he retired. Quickly changing to the game face of any good constable when confronted with two Arbites with differing opinions, he looked vaguely in her direction and the Magos, and gave a through rundown of the current downtown situation. "Some of the Tech-priests were adamantly against it at first… even after the Magos voxed them. But when they realized that the covenant armor was steaming toward them, they managed to find their priorities." At this Feraldi cleared his throat, and looked uneasily at the Magos, but then continued when the Magos didn't cut in. "The outrider scouts report that Covenant armor is already making a headway into the downtown area. They're definitely going to try a pincer movement on the siege regiment while it's still engaging their plasma mortars. Disengagement orders have already been sent, but as you said before, timing is crucial."
Feraldi then continued his update. The Arbites gun servitors had finally arrived at the downtown area. Investigator Saul had nonchalantly granted their use to her, but she was certain that the Arbites still had other means of defending their Courthouse even without them. Still though, those gun servitors would be instrumental in holding down the fort long enough – until the covenant heavy hitters got on the scene.
Looking at Feraldi, she was honestly amazed at how well he had managed to pull through. Come to think of it, I'm genuinely surprised at how well this entire army had pulled through. Just think of it. Barely three years ago I was simply the newly appointed colonel of one of the many reserve regiments mustered under the Castellan Emergency Provision. By virtue of having a link to the noble house Ormos, forcefully sent off to fulfill their obligations to the crown and Administratum. "The Blue-Blood Commission Charter" they called it. As if having a speck of noble blood ever made my life easier. People always approached or avoided me for the wrong reasons, as if Grand-Aunt Isabelle actually cared about the life of low-marrying mongrels like my mother and her family. Struggling to get that teaching position at the Universitariate only to carted off to the army simply because everyone else who mattered didn't give a shit about my existence. Well, I guess they did, if only enough to think of sacrificing me.
She still remembered her trepidation and fear. Being forced into a position she never even dreamed of – given a rag-tag command even by the standard of most reservist regiments. Rushing down the corridors to her first briefing in a neatly pressed grey uniform that felt stiff and confining – wondering if female officers were expected to wear perfume or not. How hopeless she felt when she first laid her eyes on her second in command and the rest of her so called 'staff'.
Well, we made it so far. At least, some of us have. Hopefully, the rest of us would survive this. Emperor, let that actually happen. I don't want to flee yet another burning city filled with the undug graves of those I care about.
"General Fatimah! Commissar Halliman says he's as ready as he'll ever be. Green light for the frontal counter-attack has been given!" Lieutenant Tredian exclaimed.
"All regiments situated in the center positions are blinking green as well general!" Said the whiskered lieutenant.
She looked at Investigator Saul. He nodded his head. Now or never isn't it?
She squared her jaw. "Alright then! Tell Halliman the second phase has started." She gazed back at the tactical display map. "Its time we showed them a proper Arieli greeting."
Emperor help us all, let this work.
His laspistol discharged with an ultra heated crack, catching the autocannon gunner in the base of the neck. A burbling spasm was all that escaped his mouth as his body reflexively jerked in response to the lacerating pain. Before the loader could react, Zoe had closed up with him and bayonetted his abdomen. He grunted in pain, but it quickly turned into a gurgle when Zoe emptied the remains of her mag into him. The discharges were only slightly muffled by his flesh, but in the midst of the battle, they didn't have to worry about the sound of their armaments. Zoe's boot kicked dying loader against the Autocannon shield plate, removing the bloody gun muzzle from the twitching body. She stepped back and deftly swung her autogun, and its bayonet sliced through his neck.
By now Tomas had pushed away the corpse of the gunner, and had already aimed the autocannon at the heavy stubber positioned below. Situated at an elevated platform which was once a stage, the autocannon was over-watching both friendly and hostile positions. It had taken some time to get there, but this was the most prominent position – and it was at the rear flank of the enemy ranks. Zoe was ruffling through both the dead bodies and soon produced two grenades. With another fluid motion she slid behind cover as she primed and threw the first grenade at the closest traitor-filled foxhole. Taking his cue, Tomas pulled the trigger.
A thudding cacophony crashed through his ears as a stream of shells slammed into the forward heavy stubber position. Within moments it had been shredded, it's firing team an unrecognizable pulp of viscera. Knowing every moment was important; he quickly swerved the gun to the next enemy group. Fire from both sides had slackened as they both tried to figure out what the hell just happened. A sudden bang followed by shrieks of pain signaled the explosion of Zoe's first grenade. He opened fire again, this massacring a squad of traitors taking shelter behind a pile of rubble. The confrontation had been such a sudden one that few of their foxholes were properly dug, if they were dug at all. Most of the cover being they used was merely rubble or other objects that conveniently blocked the line of fire from the loyalist side of the plaza – making them fully exposed to the gleaming barrel of death he was wielding right now.
A sharp hiss came from the cannon shield as a lasbolt impacted it. It was followed by another… and yet another. Another detonation, this time a concussive clap, pained and slow groans were heard, and the fire slackened. "I don't think we'd have to worry about grenades for now… unless one of them was an Olympics slinger before he got himself damned." Zoe remarked.
"Then keep it that way!" Tomas grunted, "I think I need a reload!" Even as he said it, a carapace-clad Arbiter dashed out of cover, followed moments afterwards by a gaggle of PDF troopers who fired wildly as they ran. Like a breaking dam, more and more figures clambered over their cover to join their comrades while others sprayed the remaining enemy positions with suppressing fire. It was nowhere near enough though, as the final hostile autocannon and covenant forces fired out their ordinance into the dead man's land to stem the tide.
A faint click was heard as a new ammo belt was inserted into the cannon chamber. "Done!" Zoe yelled, once more busying herself with the age-old tactic of spray-n'-pray. The wreckage of the covenant Fang APC blocked the view to the last autocannon, but Tomas did what he could and fired the autocannon in a wide arc as he tried to hit as many enemy positions he could. His haste caused the shells to do little real damage, but it kept the traitors from engaging the loyalists. By now the incoming fire had turned into a steady platter of pings and hisses.
"Shit! Tomas, I've got bastards going in for a grenade!" A burst of fire sounded next to him as he struggled to swivel the cumbersome gun to face their flanks. "Hurry up! I don't know how long I could keep their heads down!" Zoe's autogun was going full auto now. Almost there… The fire impacting the cannon shield was intensifying…
The staccato discharges of the autogun abruptly stopped, followed by impassioned cursing. Then… the traitors were in his scope. There were four of them, with four more sprawled dead behind them. Two of them were already reaching for their grenades.
Solid slugs punched gaping holes in the leftmost traitor, pitching him backwards through the air… The second one met a similar fate just as he was reaching for the grenade pin. He centered on the third one, who was shirking away from his deceased companions as if trying to evade the inevitable. He pulled the trigger once more.
CLANK! The barrel failed to eject a round. In a moment of panic, Tomas pressed the trigger again, only to get the sound of screeching metal from the autocannon. He looked at their two remaining assaulters. The one he was aiming at was crouched in a fetal position, shaking slightly; the other had frozen in place, and was balefully staring right at him. Their contact only lasted only for the swiftest of moments. The man, with a wild cry of desperation charged forward as he dropped his lasgun and pulled out his grenade. Cursing in unison with Zoe, Tomas yanked out his laspistol from his belt, and fired a lasbolt just as Zoe fired a burst into the man.
His lasbolt flew wide, and instead of hitting the body, it cut through his grenade-holding arm, making it fly backwards in an arc. Zoe's burst, on the other hand, hit him squarely in the chest area, ending him. The frag clenching hand landed not far from the last traitor, who was still curled up and covering his face. As the severed arm hit the blood-slick pavement, the grenade fell out of the hand and rolled closer to him. Perhaps sensing it's proximity, the man finally looked forward, his horror filled eyes uncomprehendingly gazing at the primed frag grenade just before it turned him into a red mist.
Tomas stared at the half-gone corpse. Somehow relating to the poor man's predicament, and hurting inside as well as he was once more reminded that their adversaries were quite often distressingly human. He did not let himself ponder for long though, as he knew they were still in combat. Refocusing himself he snapped off a few shots at a group being pinned between their fire and the fusillade of their advancing allies. Hm… Zoe didn't even have to prompt me this time. I guess I'm getting better at this.
There was still the odd ping and hiss against their shield, and their fire was severely reduced as without the autocannon. But the tide had already turned. The Arbites had already gotten close enough to use their grenade launchers. Claps and booms were heard as they methodically wiped out the resistance. The opposite flank, which had a functional autocannon still held, but his and Zoe's flank had already been completely rolled up and the center positions had already caved in. Once the fighting in their area had diminished, he noticed an Arbitrator jogging up to his position. Behind him two bright blue uniformed constables and a squad of PDF trooper, one of them was lugging what was unmistakably a vox set.
"Well, that went about as well as we could hope, didn't it?" He said.
"Let's hope that lasts." Came Zoe's reply.
AN: Well, thats that. Hope you enjoy it. I might manage a few more chapters, as the holidays are coming.
For the Shaleen Covenant, they are, at first sight, very similar to the Halo Covenant. They have been up gunned and upgraded somewhat though. Why? Well, 40k, that's why. I don't want this to be a steamroll-fest. The main difference in their rank and file army is that I have completely eliminated the grunts, as they are effectively high maintenance Grots (As in they breed slower, they actually need to breed,they need methane gas, and they can't be turned into emergency provisions). Both them and the Jackals have been replaced by the Avians (Description in Prologue). Also, the upper echelons of Covenant Society as well as their religion (And thus, their motivations and goals) have been tinkered with, but I'll be holding on to their details for now.