Cincere Tempestas Chapter 9
The thunder of bolters filled the air, mixed with the screams of the dying and the hoarse roar of chainswords, issuing from burned-out ruins and collapsing buildings. In the carcasses of ornate playhouses and delicate spires they fought while beautiful apartment buildings went up in flames, but neither side cared about that.
On one side were bands of ragged cultists and mutants, fighting best they could. They were confronted by a wave of blue clad Astartes, clearing the way for their armoured support. They were the Storm Heralds Third Company, massed together for a united assault through the city and stopping for nothing. They met the foe blade to blade in the flaming wreckage and cut them down in droves, giving no quarter and sparing none. In their wake the PDF advanced but they were hard pressed to keep up with the Space Marines.
Marching through the street below Captain Toran looked upon the battle and felt impatience gnawing at his guts. Third Company had come together as one to launch this all-out assault and they were making swift progress, yet not swift enough for his tastes. He assessed the battle and called out, "Sergeant Lorath advance up the right flank, clear out those tenements now! Sergeant Zeax, redeploy in his wake I want covering fire down that road branching to the south. Sergeant Matheus your Tacticals are moving too slowly, clear those buildings and move on!"
Third Company hastened to obey and Toran gritted his teeth, no matter how fast they moved it still felt too slow. Not for the first time Toran wished for aerial support but one glance upwards disabused him of that notion. The sky was filled with the swirling contrails of dogfights and battling aircraft. Imperial Thunderbolt fighters duelling with Hell talons and Hell-drakes. The aerial battle hadn't stopped since the moment the Astartes had arrived and the Storm Herald's gunships and aerial craft were fully committed to the fight above. To call down even one gunship could cost good men their lives, no matter how impatient Toran was he wouldn't do that to fellow warriors.
Toran kept on walking, sweeping the street with his bolter. Behind him rolled a line of vehicles, Predators, Whirlwinds, Hunters, a Vindicator and a single Land Raider, the Pride of Lujan. Their firepower would be essential when they reached the enemy base, but here in the narrow streets they were vulnerable and needed infantry protection. He had scouts and Initiates sweeping the surrounding buildings but there were a million places an enemy could be hiding and they had not the time required to sweep them all.
Toran saw a pile of rubble as high as his head and he snarled in frustration as he called, "Sergeant Matheus, move ahead and scout beyond the rubble while we bring up the Vindicator. Hammer of Heretics, bulldoze a path for the column, everybody else conduct overwatch as it uses its dozer blade."
As the tank went to work shifting the debris, Chaplain Furion came to stand beside Toran and said, "Captain, you appear to be in great haste today."
Toran sighed to vent his frustrations and admitted, "I don't want us to fall behind the Ashen Knights."
Furion nodded his skull helm and asked, "Were they that bad?"
"Not bad, but incredibly arrogant," Toran answered, "They take the idea that they are better than us as a fact of life, like it's only natural that they will surpass us."
From behind them Novak called, "Never going to happen! Those upstart whelps have no idea of the horrors that await them in the galaxy, of the trials ahead. Maybe they are tall and powerful but one solid knock and they go over."
Arvael agreed, "They are woefully inexperienced and too accustomed to fighting from a position of superior strength, they have never met a foe stronger than they are and so cannot imagine any such foe exists. Their overconfidence is their greatest flaw; they consistently underestimated us and the Word Bearer threat."
Memnos joined in muttering, "Did you see the modifications they made to their own bodies? Blasphemy upon blasphemy, Id like to get my hands on whoever came up with the idea to change the gene-seed, I'd throttle him with my own Chains."
Furion stepped in to say, "My understanding is that would be the Primarch. These Primaris were created on his order and with his full sanction."
That shut Memnos promptly up but the vox crackled as Sergeant Orath's voice rang out from the rear of the column, "From what I hear they don't have any Terminators. I don't care what new toys these whelps have, nothing beats Tactical Dreadnought armour."
Toran shook his head, he was letting discipline slide with this talk. He shouldn't be letting his Marines openly disparage another Chapter, strange as they were. He drew in a breath and said, "Enough, we are all fighting the same enemy here. Let us focus on our goals; we will demonstrate our worth with our deeds not petty jibes."
Arvael mused, "Is that why you're letting their spies tag along behind us?"
Toran smirked under his helm and said, "Those Reivers? Yes I know they're there, they think they are sneaky but they are not. I fully expected Lord-Marshall Achilles to want to keep an eye on us and I want him to see how real Astartes conduct themselves."
From ahead the Vindicator rumbled forward as it finally cleared the debris and it drove on. Toran made to follow it, climbing over the shifted piles of rubble as the rest of the tanks moved on. As he reached the top he surveyed the surroundings, seeing the torn and ruined buildings all around. In the burnt out windows he saw the flashes of scouts moving and on the roof-tops Assault Marines leapt from perch to perch. They were carefully sweeping for potential ambushes but Toran knew all too well that in a city there were far too many places to hide. It would be all too easy for an enemy to avoid the scouting parties. Pushing forward was a risk but a necessary one and Astartes never let the odds intimidate them. Toran stood up and called, "Matheus sweep and clear ahead, everybody else move out."
As the column resumed its advance Arvael looked to his side, at a large building with a torn facade. Once its frontage was braced by square pillars of the classical style favoured in M.36 but now it was a slope of broken rubble. Arvael shook his head and remarked sadly, "That was the Principle lecture theatre of Oriella. So many lauded scholars spoke within, why Uthred Harriman himself presented his seminal thesis there in M.36. His lectures on the beneficence and magnanimity of the Emperor's rule were the talk of the planet; they were recited word for word by his devotees for millennia. I have read his books, they were most insightful."
"Don't get distracted," Furion advised, "Focus on the mission. If you require someone to hate then look no further than the Traitors, all this destruction is their fault."
"Speaking of which," Novak interjected, "Where the Frak are they? All we're seeing here are cultist dregs. Where are the Sorcerers and Possessed Marines? Where are the Daemon Engines? I don't like this one whit."
Persion wondered, "Perhaps the Ashen Knights drew them off, maybe the Traitors judged them the greater threat?"
"No," Toran said as the column began to cross a junction in the road, "Something is off, we are facing scant opposition here. Scouts report the Traitors have pulled back for some reason."
"Heretic scum," Jediah spat, "They attack when they should withdraw, withdraw when they should attack and waste time sacrificing prisoners. Their tactics make no sense."
"No sense to us," Arvael countered, "Rest assured though they have a larger purpose, Traitors always do."
"He's right," Furion stated, "Underestimating the enemy is the surest route to defeat."
Toran was about to say something but at that moment a flash came from down the roadway they were crossing. Before it had even consciously registered Toran was throwing himself aside, as a trail of Heavy Bolter rounds chewed up the ground where he had been standing and it was not alone. From a wide and squat building erupted an onslaught of firepower, a blitz of shells, las and missile fire coming right at them. Fireballs bloomed and lascannon blasts gouged terrific craters into the ground as Toran saw a pair of Brothers torn apart by the unexpected barrage and he shouted, "Ambush!"
The Company wasted not a moment with confusion or questions as to how the ambushers had evaded their scouting parties but instantly responded with a slew of firepower. Bolters thundered and heavy weapons responded with full fury, craving great craters into the building. Ferrocrete rained down but the structure of this particular building was strong and it held true.
Toran cursed the vagaries of urban warfare but instantly assessed that this building had clear lines of fire on all sides and thick, reinforced walls. It was an Administratum complex and like all Imperial buildings it was constructed to a military standard. The weight of fire was considerable and preternaturally accurate. Experience told him there were at least three squads of Astartes heavy weapon troops within and if the enemy had any sense at all they would be reinforced by at least as many close combat specialists.
Another las beam took off the head of another Brother and Toran cursed, "That fire's too accurate, it's the Traitors!"
"Look's like we found them at last!" Novak yelled as he spat rounds from his pistol.
Furion raised his voice, "Captain, request permission to take three squads and flank them!"
"Negative, there's no cover anywhere," Toran shouted, "Bring up the Pride of Lujan, unleash the Terminators!"
Under heavy fire the Company parted and into the gap rolled a massive machine. It easily eclipsed any other vehicle in the convoy, with wide tracks, a forward assault ramp, a twin heavy bolter and twin god-hammer pattern lascannons upon each flank. It was a Land Raider Phobos and from within it came Orath's vox-call, "Beware the Emperor's mailed fist!"
The Pride of Lujan roared as its engines threw it forward, leaping to top speed at a startling velocity. Instantly the incoming fire shifted, attempting to bracket the Land Raider. Toran could hear the hull ringing with impacts as a furious onslaught smote it but the Machine was the product of ancient sciences Mankind no longer grasped and its hull held true. In return the Lascannons spoke their anger, lashing the building with devastating fire, blowing windows open to spill eviscerated crimson-clad bodies.
More enemy fire rained down and Toran yelled, "Suppressing fire!"
The Company's heavy weapons spoke, wracking the walls with devastation as the Pride of Lujan roared onwards, contemptuously ignoring all incoming fire. The Administratum building loomed over it, a solid wall of reinforced Ferrocrete with no gate or doorway on this side but the Land Raider didn't seem to care. The driver steered right at the nearest wall at top speed, headed for an inevitable collision .
One second before it impacted the Lascannons spoke again, burrowing deeply into the wall as the Pride of Lujan smashed into it, bringing all its weight and momentum to bear. The wall exploded under the impact, blowing inwards to leave the Land Raider embedded in the building like a metal splinter into soft flesh. Even from here Toran heard the crash of the impact and a second later the sizzle of Thunder Hammers and Lightning claws impacting Ceramite as the passengers disembarked and Sergeant Orath roared, "Face me Traitors!"
The incoming fire slackened off and Toran bellowed, "This is our chance: Charge!"
Third Company rose up as leapt forward, a wave of blue Ceramite charging towards the enemy with all their fury. Toran felt his twin heartbeats accelerate and his body filled with hyper-adrenaline as he drew his sword. Furiously he ran and pushed himself harder, racing for all he was worth to reach the foe.
As they ran he saw Assault Marines soaring overhead, heading for the rooftop like blazing comets as Lorath called, "Faster! The killing has already started!"
On Toran's right Furion raised his Crozius high and called, "The Emperor expects victory and we shall not fail him! No mercy, no respite, no fear!"
As one, Third Company rolled forward, hearts thundering and weapons roaring. It was a glorious charge, one that would have been worthy of remembrance on any Chapel's walls and Toran knew it would sweep away any resistance. As the Pride of Lujan rolled back, to clear the way for the infantry, Toran gripped his sword tighter and whispered to himself, "I hope the Ashen Knights are watching, I want them to see how this is done."
