Chapter thirteen
The planet will look up and shout, "Save us!"
And I will say, "Yes… deploy the virusbombs."
Saint Mariken
'KAAAOOOS!'
Roared the damned Storm Swarm in body and soul as they threw themselves against Accrearres's defenses in the dark hour before dawn. Tens of thousands storming upwards, brandishing every weapon they could get their appendages on, kicking up grass, dirt and wilting flowers and scorched earth, past burned hovels, coals still glowing amidst the ash, past the dead, only just rotting, some of them partially eaten. The outposts, manned by natives and a few Saints, barely had time to respond. Guided by mutants capable of seeing at night the enemy was upon them just as the first alarm was raised.
'Pol we're under attack! Do you copy? Pol?' Voices whispered back sweet, cloying damnation to Terrador, so he threw his fallen machine-spirit away where it crashed into his weathered guitar. The sound of breaking wood sending a twang of regret into his heart before Terrador closed his eyes, exhaling unsteadily. Pol would find out soon enough. Opening his eyes with fatalistic acceptance he raised his gun over the lip of the fox hole and looked. All rusting Warp was advancing upon him, vomited forth from the darkness. Amidst screams and desperate full auto fire the outpost fifty meter further was being overrun. Its death burned pic perfect into his retina with each blue flash. Terrador knew he was going to die, spiritually it liberated him, he was going become a real Saint of the Emperor. Somehow it seemed as if he was looking at himself.
'Stand, stand for the Emperor you rusting interns. Stand!' Terrador ordered, firing his weapon in short bursts, genuinely concerned for the souls under his command, who are about to die, like a true officer of the Divine Hierarchy. officer. First two shots shooting overhead, adjusting his aim Terrador fired again. This time hitting a mutant with milky spider eyes twice in the chest the abomination went down flailing, trampled by the Ork behind him. Charging it raised its crude axe high, wielding something else in its left hand. Firing again Terrador hits the Ork once in its chest, partially melting the patchwork chainmail and making the area surrounding it glow red hot, burning the thick leathery skin underneath. Yelling in pain the Ork's charge hardly faltered its bestial assault but fired the large powder soloshot in its left hand in a flash of red light. Whizzing past him the lead ball bored its way through the chest armor of a native guard just behind Terrador. Firing again one shot hits the Ork's triceps, almost ripping it from the xeno's shoulder in a red puff. Further behind the missed shot hits a laughing pink daemon, shrugging off the lasbeam it increased its mockery.
By now the Ork was mere meters away, beady red eyes glowering at Terrador in bestial joy. Pulling the trigger he opened up in auto, destroying its right shoulder, blasting its chest open and evaporating part of its thigh, sending it to the ground. Praising the Emperor Terrador hunted for another target to his left where a Storm Sworn rider with an eight pointed star burned into his forehead was beating down on a native soldier, his soldier. The latter threatened to fall under its hammerblows, he pointed his lasgun, only for the wounded Ork to fling itself at him in savage triumph. Biting down into Terrador's neck, hard. Terrador saw himself cry out in pain before pulling the pin from a grenade on his belt. But the Ork shook his head so violently that he was send flailing through the air just as the grenade detonated. Having just enough time left to see the shrapnel kill the Storm Sworn rider and the native soldier he died content; knowing he had denied the enemy a kill over his soldier. Swooping in a daemon manta swallowed his soul, its teeth shredding him spiritually for a millennium as a prelude to digestion.
'DAKKA!'
Soloshots rippled across the front of the Swarm as they came within range. Cannons carried by human and gretchin slaves under whip thundered, often squashing them if they had overeager Ork masters. Shattering against the walls or even embedding themselves into them a total of thirteen natives and Saints died. Either by direct hit, shrapnel or falling down the wall. Twenty nine others were wounded, those with Flak armor much less severely than those without. Overshooting cannonballs demolished the largely wooden houses, killing the awakening families within. By now not only Pol, but also Sytse and Neeltje and their respective platoons, even the entire city, were all well awake in the nightmare, manning the walls in all haste. First a dozen, then growing and growing number of lasguns until more than two hundred and fifty lasguns shot down at the Swarm, hardly suppressed by their ranged weapons, and hitting hundreds. In tandem an equal number of arrows took flight as the natives joined in the defense of their city, their bastion. At most wounding an Ork, not killing it, or even stopping it, though that was actually one and the same thing.
'Keep trying until you can reach Tjitse. Frak it, send a messenger by foot. And Twan as well, he's closest. We need reinforcements.' Pol almost shouted as he rushed up the stairs up into a tower, at the top of which Terraphile carried the platoon banner. Five meters away, atop the wall, a heavy stubber crew opened up in between four lasgunners, one of whom carried a voxcaster on his back. Reaching the top of the stairs he entered the tower, a wooden ladder reached up to the top from which, Pol knew, other Saints and natives defended Acrrearres.
Each shot from the stubber and each crack from the lasguns echoing within, drowning out Jo's reply. Standing in the entranceway Pol lowered his visor, pulled out his boltpistol and chainsword, prayed to the Emperor and stepped forward.
And was immediately hit with hot lead to his shoulder, dropping the, thankfully unactivated, chainsword to his feet. Unbalanced Pol almost fell down the side of the wall but Jo grabbed him, painfully, at the bludgeoned shoulder.
'I'm okay.' Pol hissed as he fired his boltpistol over the battlement into the dense Swarm below. 'Flak armor took the damage. The Emperor Protects.' In gratitude he emptied his weapon while Jo grabbed the chainsword and held it up for him. Quickly reloading he took it. It felt heavy and made his arm hurt more so, he rested the tip against the ground.
'Aim just above the firing line, kill them before they can fire their weapons.' Pol ordered while he and Jo opened fire, practicing what they preached. To his left he saw four grappling lines flying over the battlement, three managed to make hold. Quickly natives moved to dislodge it while a Saint stuck out his gun over one rope and fire downward, two arrows harmlessly hitting his armor but a lead bullet maiming his right hand. Screaming in pain the man lets go of the weapon and clutching his wound. No sooner had the natives loosened one hook or two ladders were put against the wall. The stubber had to reload.
'Use grenades against anything touching the walls, bring up flamers! Have weapon teams focus on their artillery.' Pol ordered pulling the pin from a grenade and dropping it down a ladder.
'You heard the lieutenant!' Jo shouted, running hunched over to the voxcaster while the stubber opened fire again. 'More-'
'MOAR DAKKA!'
The Storm Swarm demanded, firing their full, rather impressive, arsenal. More than fifty soloshot artillery pieces fired, mostly damaging the city and their own relentless assault but still doing some damage to the humans. Other cannons exploded, killing their crew and all around them. More dangerous still were the fat rockets carried under cover of smoky darkness and confusion. Coughing in the smoke and dust, ears still buzzing, Pol clutched the edge of the battlement, pulling himself up just in time to see those that didn't explode launch. Blinking he'd swear that small orkoids were attached to the tip, clutching something that looked like a steering wheel. Large explosions blossomed around the city's defenses. One struck down the plateau of the tower to Pol's left, smashing through the wood, crossing the room underneath and exploding against the rear inner wall, demolishing the top. Less impressive weapons added insult to injury, arrows and lead, stones from catapults and massive ballista fired bolts capable of piercing Flak armor as Pol saw, the Saint clutching his hand was impaled and dramatically flew of the wall. All the natives were dead or dying, the stubber gunner clutched his face screaming, blood gushing from his face, loader trying to do the impossible with a medicae kit. Two rifle Saints, those closest to the tower had vanished into the dust cloud, never to be seen again, only the voxman remained, Jo close by. Grabbing his chainsword Pol granted himself the luxury of closing his eyes for a prayer. Standing up he revved the weapon, seeing a wounded Ork, missing part of its face, burned and bleeding from its side, climb up using the metal chain off a grappler. Pol took his opportunity, bringing the down his chainsword, chewing down through what remained of the Ork's head, shredding its brain beyond the ability to function.
'Loader, start firing the stubber, he's a real Saint now. That's an order you hear that soldier. Jo! Where is Twan?' Shaking the Saint did as he was told. Pol was satisfied to see the Saint maintain his senses as the stubber's fire was directed at the wall's base. Jo dropped on one knee next to the voxman.
'Get me Twan.' Jo said, holding out his for the horn. Sparks flew as Pol's chainsword bit through the iron chain, sending its load sprawling to the ground. Quickly looking around for anything coming over the walls between him and tower he saw the stubber and Saint burn in Warpfire.
'Give me Twan trooper!' Jo ordered grabbing the horn. Grinning maniacally, eyeballs rolled up all the way into his socket the voxman grabbed Jo with both arms. And jumped head first over the battlement, screaming past the climbing Swarm into damnation below Iiikhen'Tuh prophesized through his meat puppets…
'MOAR KAAAOOOS!'
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Both Steadfast's machine-spirit and captain Osissis, with whom it was in direct communion, are calm, sharp and focused, like a predator ready to fight for its territory with approaching rivals. From the ravening immaterium they appeared, occulted behind Warp distortions.
Two hard to classify ships, roved ahead. Ahead, by 1031 kilometers, the first had large spikes sticking out near the front in a circular pattern, creating the suggestion of a wicked mouth. In the center there was an image in radioactive paint, displaying an Ork skull with one eyesocket enlarged, inside the eight pointed star of Chaos. Like a cloud of flies 81 'fighta bombas' flew up from it. The flotilla was blissfully ignorant of its name until it began broadcasting it in a loop; Uhmy'iiitaahz. The second one they all knew. Centered on a large derelict Imperial bulk carrier was added a mad array of different parts, structures, sections and even large segments of other ships, taken from its victims, some of them Xeno. Mutants Flagship, captained by the grotesque monster calling itself the Mutant-Emperor of Mankind, linked to more than seven mutant insurgencies and one ongoing revolt in Fa.
Following just behind were three Infidel heavy frigates, their hulls somehow chameleonic and alive. Two weren't recognized and refused to display its designation. After some delay Ophelia Ranger recognized the third one from its own archives, Herald of the Unknown Birth; sworn to the Chaos God Tzeentch, last seen none months ago at the spinward edge of the Maelstrom, nine sectors away…
But it was the final thing that sends a chill down Osissis's spine and into Steadfast's reactor core. A dead mass of chthonic darkness ominously tumbled towards them. It ran no lights, emitted no other radiation save in infrared, just above the background level. What little they got from auspex hinted at the corpse of a grand cruiser. Inside the Warp it howled like the grave of lost voidborn. If the Inquisition knew what it was then they weren't sharing.
Under his direction the flotilla's bulk was forming up in Under Debate's L1 point. The Ophelia Ranger only 'suggestion' had been to defend City #2 as it was the site of an ongoing Imperial Guard action. He had promptly accepted it. Stef's Scions screened ahead of Blazing Light as they took position in Under Debate's L4 point, mostly in the path of the Chaos fleet though slightly to the side. Ship o'plenty's captain and onboard commissar had been informed of their duties.
The Emperor's Victory will be hard-fought. So Osissis did something he normally wouldn't do. Inform the muddwellers of the situation.
'We need the prayer.' Osissis said to himself before strengthening the medium of his voice by increasing peak energy during transmission, making his throat feel hoarse while the message burned through the planetary interference at the muddwellers below. Included was a message calling the last of his children to come home across hard vacuum. Hidden beneath it by Magos Pulleyard himself was encrypted data from the Ophelia Ranger for the muddwellers at Ciy #2.
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'Scion Prime to Blazing Light vac-comptrol. Squadron Scion is refueled and recharged, pull all umbilicals, do you copy.' Stef used her voice, like ancient Naval custom dictated, instead of using her implants, the struggle was yet to commence.
'We copy Scion Prime, pulling umbilicals.' Replied a clear female voice. Probably slightly younger than me Stef absently muzed as she felt a slight stir, physically as the umbilical was pulled. Mentally as all power was now internal. 'Blazing Light you're cleared for lining. Electropulting will commence once Orator squadron is finished.'
'We copy.' Stef said, speaking for the entire squadron, as they listened in.
'Connecting your squadron to personal fight-attendants.' Vac-comptrol said absently.
'Scion Prime this is Lancer, I'm your fight-attendant.' A slightly smoke damaged voice said. Must be a heavy smoker because the rest of him said youth to her.
'I'll call you Smoky.' Stef said resolutely while slightly firing her thrusters, moving into position. Only a few g's, she'll have to use her thruster later on.
'Uhm…' Smoky hesitated. 'Copy?' Stef added equally resolutely. 'U-understood Scion Prime.' Stef smiled, as she knew the other Scion's were doing as well, some beneficial fun.
'First time Smoky?' Stef inquired privately while countering her own momentum synchronizing to Blazing Light. She knew Smoky's answer, he wouldn't be experienced enough to guide her through a running electropult.
'I have the privilege Scion Prime.' Smoky replied crisply, not trying to make excuses using Blazing Light's class. Stef's smile didn't wane. Smoky had some talent.
'Both squadrons ready and in position.' Vac-comptrol notified, turning on the waypoints marking the boundary of the electropult. It was only a basic rig. The waypoints even radiated in the visible spectrum, and would provide only a few g's. But the frigate was designed for frontier duty, the only reason it even had it. Stef snapped to attention like a true vac predator, grinning. Here, not in atmosphere she came to her right.
Smoky took over and spoke through his own implants.
'Electropulting in six...-' Stef's pulse quickened, to better distribute her body own and machine-spirit added biochemicals while shutting down several biological and machine functions so that others could peak over 100%.
'-…five…-' Looking over the data provided by Blazing Light's auspexthat the prey was still where it should be. Flaring her nostrils Stef focused her own auspex and looked at where the enemy would be, making Scion Prime's machine-spirit rattle like a coiled snake.
'-…four…-' She felt her squadron, as ready as she was, geared up for the fight.
'-…three…-' Victory in your name my Immortal God-Emperor of Mankind and Machine. Please protect my ship.
'-…two…-'…
'-…one!' I'll make you proud Stef swore as she was accelerated alongside Blazing Light's starboard side.
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Pol shot the next Ork coming over the wall through the head, but three more were already climbing over as well as one chainmail clad Storm Sworn. Two of the Xenos threatened to cut off his route to the remaining tower. Rushing back he swiped his chainsword over the battlement destroying the right hand of the nearest Ork. Merely grumbling the beast, mark of Chaos burned on its forehead, lashed out with its right claw grabbing Pol's shoulder, threatening to pull him down like Jo.
'No!' Gritting his teeth Pol lets go of his boltpistol to better brace himself while his weapon chewed through the Ork's arm. Using it as a lever he barely managed to hold his ground. Having cut of the limb, sending the Ork falling down into the savage horde below, he was just able to bring the weapon up again to block the second Ork's axe. It was a monster of Chaos. Well over two meters with five huge tusks and two long barbed tongues whilst wearing crude leather armor made from flayed human skins imprinted with soul destroying runes. Grinning wickedly Pol used the downward motion of his weapon to force the surprised Ork's axe down into the stone.
'Blood for the Emperor.' Pol spat in supreme hate and contempt as he stepped on the flat of the axe, forcing it further down while slamming his spinning teeth into the right of the Ork's neck, using the momentum to dodge its tongues. Making a virtue of his empty left hand he used pressed his palsm against the plasteel case of his weapon's rear, pushing it closer and closer to the beasts spine, ripping the desecrating armor apart. Chunks of meat flying down his chest Pol roared into his enemy's right ear.
'Souls fo-' Punched, hard, into his shoulder by the Ork, the worst of the blow taken by his armor, Pol was send flying across the battlement. Reflexively grabbing the lip and pressing his chainsword against the stone for momentum he was slowed down but would still have gone down if luck wouldn't have it that a mutant was climbing up a ladder at just that moment. Kicking it in the face with plasteel shod boots Pol arrested his momentum and managed to scramble back up. The Ork had turned around towards the tower, thinking the human lost and didn't see him coming. Quickly swinging his weapon against its neck Pol continued where he left off.
'Souls for His Throne!'
Indulging himself Pol stood triumphantly over his fallen foe, almost instantly, but still too late, he knew it was a mistake. An arrow and two lasbeams shot just past him. Quickly he jumped over the Ork's corpse towards the tower. Feeling a growing darkness behind hi he only dared to look back when he was inside. Perceiving something Pol quickly averted his gaze in terror.
'Lieutenant, Up here Pol!' Instinctively latching on to the Terraphile's voice Pol flew up the wooden ladder. At the top of which another Saint carefully aimed and fired at the doorway, covering him. Reaching the top Terraphile reached out to quickly help him up Pol looked down and saw a part of the daemon enter, a flayed contraption of human bodyparts reminiscent of a centipede. Looking deadstraight into both Saints' terrified eyes Pol pulled out a grenade. There wasn't time for an Ode to Timing.
'Grenades down the hatch. Do it for the Emperor's sake!' Pol added, seeing the two Saints hesitate. 'On 3…2...1 and close it' Dropping three grenades and a detstick down they stepped back, one saint kicking down the hatch. Waiting for the grenades to detonate Pol drew his backup lasgun.
Contained, the blastwave bounced inside the tower, blasting the latch door from its hinges, first slight upward before falling down. The natives fighting at the battlements yelled in distress, thinking their end at hand, but in truth the thick stone easily held the blasts.
'Weapons ready.' Pol led by example, leaning forward and looking down. The room was completely covered in acidic blood, it ran down the walls and dripped from the ceiling, dissolving anything organic that it touched. At the bottom some mutilated slabs of meat squirmed, slowly moving towards each other, coalescing.
'Open fire, Purge the Unclean.' And the Saints opened fire until all the remaining parts were mush and Pol dropped in another grenade for good measure. Eyes wide Terraphile jumped forward, grabbing Pol with both hands, forcing him down just as a gargoyle swooped by.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly Pol walked away edge of the tower's battlement. Breath shuddering he looked out across the battlefield, weeping silently, prohibiting himself from looking weak before the troops. Off in the distance, both on the left and right flank the Saints were holding the line, however tenuously, killing the damned by the dozens. Flamers had turned large sections ablaze even as the city began burning in their rear. Stubbers and autocannons cut them down by the line. At least ten thousand already lay dead in front of the walls. Yet they kept coming. By the thousands and having lost none of their insane determination they flung themselves at the humans.
And at the section of wall entrusted to him they were pouring over the walls by now. Somehow managing to control the emotion in his voice, swallow his pride and steel his soul against any blasphemies uttered over the vox he keyed his microbead.
'This is Pol hailing all, declaring broken spear, I repeat broken spear, my position has been overrun. Does anyone copy, over.' At first there was only suggestive static but it soon cleared making the voice across it sound crispy clear.
'Pol this is Tjitse, I'm patching you through to Wazer.'
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Dhon and Dheremie sat in their respective cockpits waiting for their signal, more than a little anxious given their cargo. Each carried of haphazard payload of ten tonnes placed into two containers. Their respective loadmasters, strapped into a harness attached to the craft via rope, were horrified at their role as ad hoc bombardiers, having to operate the door and the winch build on the inside of it to help unload their payload, before going back home to help protect their families on the Steadfast.
'Transports, we have just received word from orbit, Tjitse just gave the all clear. You are ready to go, do you copy?' Lotte said through the vox, power amped up to clear most of the 'static', looking rather relieved that the stuff was being carried away. The two pilots looked at each other through their canopy, shaking their head at the muddwellers attempt at flight control before giving the thumbs up.
'Transport to guard, we copy and are on our way. Out.' Dhon and Dheremie closed their link simultaneously eager to be done with this. Increasing engine power they lifted off form the grassy field as the top of the sky was beginning to lighten in the east, obscuring the stars while the gas giants on the horizon turned a faint pink.
'Martyrdom must have made you even more of a crazy bastard Tjitse you rusting intern.' Lotte reflected bitterly, thinking about Gerard, about what she lost, mourning in the early morning. Homini Rex pushed his cold nose against her hand before licking it and looking up at her. A sad smile on her face Lotte scratched his neck.
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Dirk, plasma gun strapped to his back, and riding like a natural on Saldean, his new and rather likable horse, followed following four native guides through the narrow, sloping streets of Acrrearres. Following him was cadet #2, arrogance leaking through his impassive mask at his new hat. The morning appeared like twilight due to the smoke rising from the front and beyond. Terrified and confused the civilian natives filled the streets, slowing them down. Dirk's guides tried to order them towards Blachernae as they pushed through, some even tried to stop them, pleading.
'Emprah, Emprah.' Some of them shouted. Dirk laughed and pulled his laspistol, firing it in the sky.
'Emprah, Emprah' He repeated. Shocked and awed the natives pulled back, clearing the street. Surprised the horses reared and galloped down the street. Blissfully unaware of the danger of Saldean falling Dirk grinned, adrenaline rushing through his veins moving towards Neeltje's and Freterik's position.
Once there he was too use his synchronized chrono to make sure they synchronized battle hymns and psalms with the rest of the company's vox systems, resisting Chaos' more insidious attacks. Upon his discretion he could add the blaze of his plasmagun to help hold the line or lead one or two squads into a counter-attack towards the center. Off course in conjunction with the main counter-attack. Spearheaded by Nova Ignis and Face-eater Julia and Twan would storm straight into thousands of Chaos Orks. Red followed identical orders on the other side of the city with cadet #3 as his shadow. Still Dirk had correctly concluded that he had the more difficult task of telling Freterik exactly how Wazer had proposed to help.
War Plow
drove down the street Red Marquis to its side. In pairs most of Julia's other chimeras followed behind them. Dieuwke's armored sentinels advanced through the streets on their flanks. Near the front Nova Ignis followed. Mar stood atop, naked, displaying his righteous ink, the Book of Illumination hanging from a chain around his neck, while wielding two large chainswords with one shots flamethrowers attached. The company banner behind him, fixed into Nova's back. Bellowing along with the Beseechment of Martyrdom sung by the machine-spirits though the voxhorn.
Inside most of the interior had been taken up by vox amplifier from their Engiseer connected with it. Wazer sat in Tjitse's chair, connecting her own bionics to Nova Ignis's machine-spirit. She was in fighter mode, a strange one but that didn't faze her. Focused upon the vox and auspex she was busy leading in Dhon and Dheremie using her boosted signal. When they were close she'd signal Pol. Who would dial into a particular frequency and use a laspack to boost the signal at the cost of the machine-spirit. Dhon and Dheremie could then line up and if one signal was suddenly behind them but another one still straight ahead they were in the sweet spot.
It was her idea, mostly, safe Tjitse's decision on the payload. Stupid muddweller.
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Those cannonballs that didn't impact against the walls flew into Accrearres, adding to the devastation, killing friend and foe alike. Impacting behind them, driving the native civilians to Blachernae, the attack penetrated deeper. The swarm had moved their artillery closer. Nearby a cannonball smashed through a badly damaged three storey building, collapsing it in dust, killing the last surviving occupants and the gretchin swarming over the roof.
'What!' Freterik yelled over the screams, battle and music across the street to Dirk. Firing his boltpistol at a blue daemon standing atop the damaged wall, managing to hit its illusion and a nearby gretchin. His squad mates firing at daemonic entities in the sky or Archenemy mortals in the streets below while their support autocannon sweeped across the walls. Dirk's plasmagun purged a shadowy mass of beaks, talons and tongues at the base of the wall, igniting a nearby hovel. To his right one of Neeltje's squad fired down the street as well or provider covering fire. In the street shotgun assisted spearmen barely held the swarm, backed up by the cadet. Bodied piled in , covering the dirt with bodies as blood ran down gulleys. Ducking for cover and feeling the heat radiate out from his weapon Dirk waited as a flamer roared nearby, intensifying the screams. Heart pounding and whetting his dry lips Dirk stood up to repeat himself, firing miniature suns at the top of the overrun tower where Storm Sworn archers shot down arrows.
'An enemy fleet has appeared.' Dirk said, quickly adjusting his aim. 'As a goodbye gift Tjitse got two of their transports fly over and push out tones of banewolf chems at Pol's position!' Slugs began ripping apart the wood next to Dirk, shattering the sparse interior furniture. Ducking for cover he saw that a stubber was firing at him from another section of the wall. A mutant Ork had wrapped finger covered tentacles around the weapon. Keeping his head down Dirk checked if his chem-mask wasn't damaged.
'What!' Freterik yelled, reloading his weapon. Splintering the wall in a cloud of dust an Ork swarmed in, followed by a swarm of gretchin, slavering mutants and beserk Storm Sworm. They killed the two nearest Saints before anyone reacted. Firing three bolts into the lead Ork's chest it went down while another Saint blasted in full auto, killing gretchin and destroying the arm of a Storm Sworn.
'Get a grenade down there.' Freterik ordered killing a Storm Swarm with his bolts and holding off an Ork using his chainsword. Wielding two swords a four limbed mutant with no apparent mouth swooped low around his left, only just blocked by a native swordsman.
Keeping his head Dirk fired, spheres of blasma burning through the outer stone walls of the house from which the Swarm poured, expanding in a cooling spray of starmatter, killing the enemy and igniting the interior.
'Sir, I said…'
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Pulling out one of the last laspacks Pol placed it next to his cap on the ground. Asking for the machine-spirit's forgiveness he pulled out his combat knife and got to work. Using the point he opened up the heart of the machine cutting two of its electric arteries. Then he worked on the laspack, removing its outer casing, before breaking open Terraphile's lasgun, excising the powersetting organ and cutting that open. It was then a matter of joining the cap's arteries to the organ and directly linking that to the laspack. Finished he keyed his back-up microbead.
'This is Pol calling Wazer, I'm ready. Do you copy, over?' Pol said, ignoring the diminished whispers across the vox with the Imperial battle hymn of Tempestus playing in the background, even the static was reduced.
'This is Wazer reading you clear. Wait for my signal…the Emperor Protects lieutenant.' Wazer added hesitantly.
'He does the faithful sub-lieutenant.' Pol replied.
Having followed the Navy's instruction Pol waited for Wazer's signal, looking across the red sky at where he anticipated the transports approach. In between the hellish noise made by the swarm the Imperial battle hymn of Tempestus could only vaguely be made out, but was the sweeter for the both of them. Silently standing guard over him Terraphile proudly holding the banner aloft in one hand and keeping gargoyles at bay with a laspistol in the other as they occasionally swooped in through the smoke.
Pol kept quiet for a while as he prayed to the Emperor Omnissiah, gently caressing the remains, trying to sooth it.
'A fine weapon Terraphile, fir for a dutiful soldier, the Emperor Omnissiah will tolerate it beyond the Eternity Gate with saint Mariken as intercessor.' He finally said, throat hoarse, referring to more than just the single machine-spirit.
'Thank you sir.' Terraphile said softly. They waited in silence as around them the battle raged.
'Now Pol, now!' Wazer said across the vox, just as Pol began to make out the quickly approaching whine of jet engines. Immediately he activated his mutilated machine-spirit, sending its voice for all to hear across the spectrum, declaring itself target.
Less than ten seconds, that seemed like minutes, later the transports flew over only a few meters higher than the tower. Reflexively Pol followed their trajectory, from the corner of his eye, fleetingly seeing shapes fall from their rear as they screamed past.
Spinning, the canisters impacted the ground, breaking open in a green cloud of toxic chems, reacting energetically to anything organic. Roaring in pain and fear the Swarm felt their body's starting to melt as the mist rolled over them. Silence followed in its wake, drifting slowly down the city to eventually collect at the wall and decay. Flowing softly past any obstacle it entered nook, crevice and orifice. One of the canister's fell beyond Accrearres' walls, shattering amidst the attackers. A small puff in creeping further down the mountain flank, through the swarm of the damned.
'Yes! It worked, the Emperor be praised Terraphile…Terraphile?' Pol asked, looking around. Though the banner lay against the battlement the Saint himself had vanished silently.
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'On target S1-A2, I repeat on target.'
'Roger sub-lieutenant. Beginning orbital boost.' Dheremie said.
'Copy that, God-Emperor speed S1-A2-4, you to S1-A2-3.'
'We'll come to pick you up later Wazer, try not to get any mud on you.'
'Thanks Dhon, but I think it's too late for the latter, out.'
Wazer closed the link, slowly breathing out. Having finished her part she put her head in her hands, feeling lost and powerless. Steadfast, her home, was in danger, and she was stuck here, in the mud. A Swarm of Xeno's, Heretics, Mutants and Unclean held at bay by a bunch of kids from some backwater.
Raising her head skywards , beyond Nova's armor, beyond the dirtball, to the stars where Stef and her home and the God-Emperor fought Wazer prayed. Suppressing a bitter and painful tear in silence.
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'Bandit destroyed. Thanks for the assist Stef.' Scion Secundus signaled before diving on a damaged fighta-bomma, pushing closer to Uhmy'iiitaahz. Stef, grinned savagely into her implants before diving . Ejecting the spend, red hot energy pack, 77.5% remaining, she had better uses for her heatsinks, 39% full. 0% damage. 0% missiles. 87.5% of her squadron active. 79.5% for the other five lightning squadrons.
'Your second kill.' Smoky said superfluously. 'Marauder squadrons are 57 seconds out of Mutants Flagship's estimated point defense.' Smoky said usefully enough.
'Confirmed Smoky. How many free?' She said, pushing closer to Uhmy'iiitaahz, into the dogfight, but not yet committing to anything. Smoky didn't reply what she expected.
'Firing solution.' Immediately Stef clamped down on her filters. Three seconds later the Blazing Light's potent energy beam fired through the void, only just missing, again.
'One internal, three external. Four missiles, one internal.' Good enough, Stef committed herself.
'Link them to me, I'm attacking.' A half decent attack run would keep the Orks committed here, giving the marauders a clear run. The vac equipped lightings were linked to her, the voices of their pilots and machine-spirits present alongside hers. It was Scion Secundus, Hawk Secundus, Hawk Tertius and Reaper Tertius.
'Break through and follow up behind me, pattern AD-3, target Uhmy'iiitaahz' They confirmed. Serf managed to break through fairly easily, jamming and evading a swarm of poorly guided missiles.
'Scion Secundus is engaged. The others all broke through…Mutants Flagship is launching fighters.' Smoky sounded surprisingly calm, given that it shouldn't have been able to do it…
'Marauders are-' Smoky began but was overwritten by Stef.
'Link-one focus on attack run.' They all confirmed, even Scion Secundus. But Stef didn't, couldn't, she was squadron leader afterall.
'Marauder data.' And smoky provided only slightly filtered data, almost raw, as he continued providing data on more immediate issues.
'Sev…eight bandits broke off and are in pursuit of Link.'
'Link, vector su-0.0, np-0.9, engagement in 2.2.' They would flow around the advancing Uhmy'iiitaahz at its sunward side in an arc. Providing a possible corridor for the Marauders, straight at the Ork carrier.
'Smoky inform the Marauders of this option.' Stef didn't pay any attention to what smoky said afterwards. She was far too busy fending off the fighta-bommas with her Link.
Hawk Tertius didn't make it.
By sheer chance the bandit dogging Scion Secundus had suffered a catastrophic failure. Freeing it up to pursue the pursuers. Firing its missile it made a kill and then, using its lasguns it killed two more, breaking up the swarm. Still Stef found herself doggedly pursued.
A lasbeam clipped the ablative covering Scion Prime's right wing. 13% damage, including the empty missile rack underneath, non critical. Heatsink 44%. Hawk Tertius saved her from a pursuing bandit. But found itself pursued instead by an opportunistic bandit, dying before Reaper Tertius could swoop in to save its tail. Missing thrice, 70% remaining, 54% heat, Stef made a kill.
'Scion Secundus maintain pressure on remaining bandits. Rest of the Link continue run.' Stef said before turning privately to Smoky.
'Marauder status.'
'17.5% remaining. An estimated 12.5% will be able to Link-up in three minutes. Mutant Barge's bandits aren't pursuing those attempting to link up, but are advancing onto Blazing Light.' A hint of Smoky's worry carried into his implants.
'We'll have to part company soon then.' Stef said matter-of-factly as she and her Link burned hard to point themselves toward Uhmy'iiitaahz's flank. Smoky was as good as unfamiliar rooky fight-attendant's came, but she strongly preferred Steadfast's mindtrix with its slaved fight-attendants. Smoky was silent.
'I understand.' He eventually said. Stef barely managed to keep her laugh down, she didn't want to insult him. Something may have bled through as Smoky sounded slightly offended.
'Damage and casualties are beginning to accrue. Fuel is running lower and lower. Missiles are gone or low. Worse, you're running hotter and hotter. Our facilities are far too limited and we're under attack. You'll have to return. And stay there to go torpedo hunting.'
'Correct Smoky. You're a good fight-attendant, with some more experience you'll be a fine one.'
'Thank you Scion Prime. The first marauders are ready to Link-up.' Smoky said proudly.
A single oversized but battered squadron was all that remained from more than eighty Marauders. There was little communication as they continued their attack run. Seeing Uhmy'iiitaahz grow in her auspex Stef realized she could have seen it her naked eye if her lightning had been atmosphere equipped. It was an irrelevant thought and she quickly discarded it when they entered the edge of the engagement range. Lightnings, screening ahead of the Marauders, fired what missiles they had.
Uhmy'iiitaahz perimeter defense was unsurprisingly Orkoid in character. Rapid fire coilguns, better suited to take on destroyers blasted at them, missing the small, nimble craft by a wide margin though actually managing to take out a missile. The remaining impacted harmlessly against Uhmy'iiitaahz's brutish but effective armor. Massive banks of rockets fired from its flank which were, unknown to the Link, were gretchin guided. Streaking silently across the void. After making some quick but important calculations the lightnings zapped the rockets on course with the Marauders, keeping their path as clear as possible, even trying to draw them in. Going over the data Stef made an Emperor inspired judgment call. Painting a target using her lascannons on a missile impact scar, at what was, hopefully, a flightdeck.
'Fire on my point.' Momentarily fire ceased as the lightnings made complex calculations and adjustments with their machine-spirits. With pin-point accuracy they repeatedly hammered the same area with their lasbeams, weakening the armor before taking on the rockets in desperate knife ranges. Hawk Secundus went silent mid-sentence, struck by a gretchin rocket. Philosopher Sextus died, just after firing its torpedoes in.
'May saint Voidwalker intercede on behalf of these torpedoes.' Orator Quintus remarked as the other Marauders fired their torpedoes as well. As the Link began their burn back for Steadfast continuing to evade the perimeter defense the torpedoes struck home. The first two opened up the flight deck while the third demolished the interior, igniting fuel and ammo. Three more streaked inside, opening up more of the ship while the last one was hit by a coilgun slug.
Praising the Emperor in a wave of vicious relieve the Link overshot the Uhmy'iiitaahz's as small secondary explosions ripped through it. It fired another salvo of gretchin rocket after them as they sped past. If they wouldn't have to turn around it would have been easy. 74% heatsink didn't help either.
'Excellent shot Link.' Smoky cheered before continuing more seriously. 'Mutants Fla-firing solution!' Smoky cried out. Stef clamped down on her filters just in time. Using the damage caused like a signal light Blazing Light fired its main armament again. Streaking across the void the bright blue energy beam cuts through the Uhmy'iiitaahz's weak shield, its armored flank andmelting its innards or exposing them to the vacuum, Blazing Light crippled its enemy whilst Mutants Flagship drew closer.
(-+-)
(-+-)
Sybrand lay flat on the roof, firing repeatedly into a Warpbeast before it blindly charged, falling down into the toxic street below to slowly dissolve. Following its movement down he saw a Storm Swarm, branded in its evil mark, aiming a soloshot. Two quick shots took him down. Just as Mariken Marches ended and Exaltation in Duty began.
'Send in the natives.' He ordered.
'Understood. ' Emprah, Emprah. Dog-soldiers you.' He pointed at a group of chainsword armed natives while speaking a butchered variant of their language. 'Attack, attack, kill Storm Swarm.' Motioning at them to attack, firing his lasgun from his hip, covering their tentative attack. They were more afraid of their allies and their own arcane weaponry. Strange toothed swords that growled unnaturally and tried to free themselves from their hands if not carefully handled. Saint administered chems helped to overcome their fear and fatigue, though they are ignorant of the Emperor's blessing.
Only two of them were winged by Storm soloshots before they reached the edge of the four storey building via the terrace of an adjacent building.
It had been build on a lip of granite extending from the mountain, providing a solid foundation for its high structure, from the top of which hung the burned corpses of Altweerd and his house. To be sure a Saint from Pol's platoon covered it from further up the slope. Sybrand stood up to join Lieve as another Saint arrived to take over his position. Moving over the rickety roof section as fast as he dared he received word from one of Julia's squads just as he arrived by Lieve.
'Sybrand, we're in position, ready to grapple up at your word.'
'Understood Fatidicus. You are cleared to go. Keep an eye on them Gier.'
'Always sir.' Gier said as he watched Fatidicus go up.
Using their new weapons the natives cut their way through the reinforced door while the Saints covered the windows. In the surrounding area Saints hunted on the upper floors and roofs for any sign of the enemy, mostly gretchin and Warpbeasts. In the streets below a faint sludge pooled through which chimeras and sentinels travelled, adding their fire support.
Ripping open the door the first two natives through died of soloshots. Inside followed a moment of frenzy, in which four natives, one Ork, a mutant and a Storm Sworn died in various stages of dismemberment. The smell of blood inside mixing with smoke outside.
Silent, safe the growling of chainsaws and the music of battle, they looked over the charnel. White-faced a youthful native, younger even than Lieve and the other interns, threw up before running away. They let him.
'Cover the doors.' Sybrand said, resolutely walking into the blood calming the machine-spirits Picking them up and giving them to a native he noticed that Lieve only stared at the carnage, wide eyed.
'Back, go to Blachernae. Blachernae.' Sybrand said as he motioned at the native impatiently before grabbing Lieve's arm.
'Snap out of it Saint. Don't spook the natives. We can't speak each other's language except for body-language.'
'This is…is…'
'Not now Lieve, not now.' Sybrand looked into the young soldier's eyes. 'Save it for after the battle, then you do what you have to do. Not now. Now you have Duty, as a Saint of His Victory. Recite the Litany of Hate, take a few of these primitives left and kill everything inhuman. I'll take the rest right, and we move up. Meet with Fatidicus' interns. And for Throne's sake, when I say, cover the rusting doors you cover the rusting doors.'
No need to wait around in a place like this and keeping his gun pointed at a door as Sybrand led his party.
Further inside the house they heard the sound of fighting between Saints and Storm Swarm. Sybrand took it as a cue and pointedly tapped his microbead.
Walking through the right door Sybrand entered a servants living room. Furniture thrown around, broken pottery and crumpled, broken textile covering the ground, and the dead couple muffled into a corner. Crimson of their blood mixed with the vibrant colors of their clothing. They looked handsome and young, only recently married or something, holding hands even while their dead eyes looked at each other. It stirred something in Sybrand, from a past that never happened. Why didn't they flee towards Blachernae?
Instantly driving the emotion from him was a high pitch screech coming from a two mouthed lump of gretchin. Charging from beneath a lump of blood clothes, strips of flesh handing from its teeth and wielding two wickedly carved blades the gretchin covered the ground quickly, evading two shots from Sybrand's lasgun which further shattered a broken table instead. Slashing with its knives it drew blood, cutting into Sybrand's calve even as he punted it in the face, sending it tumbling across the floor. Two shots, one hit, no more gretchin. At first glance.
Cunningly taking advantage of the distraction another gretchin had snuck closer. Only noticed when it began stabbing ankles left and right, doing relatively little damage due to native armor, though it would require disinfection later on. Killed by a panicked native, at the cost of his own foot in a ground ward swipe. Sybrand ordered, as far as language permitted, one native to bandage the wounded one and return to them. The wounded native attempted to refuse, actually trying to walk it off.
'The Emperor Protects the Saints of His Victory.' Sybrand prayed before moving deeper into the house, keeping his gun at the ready. Exiting the living room he walked into a small corridor bending to the left, a window slit to the right. Wall and window showing signs of lasgun damage. Squatting down he made sure the natives did as him.
'Now careful, no black on black, no friend on friend, no…ugh never mind.' Moving forward, past the window he didn't stand up until he peeked around the corner. The corridor continued for another nine meters with three doors on both sides. At the end stood a staircase going up and down while also branching to the left in another corridor. Shots cracked upstairs.
'You and you, take the left door. And you and you take the right door. The rest of you wait with me until bad things happen. Understood, no? Well I war plow your mom and sister. Now attack, attack, kill, kill, Emprah, Emprah.' For a moment Sybrand felt conflicted; harsh and cynical yet protective and caring. Must be what the Emperor feels Sybrand considered before pushing it away like a real Saint. He needed to focus, badly.
Like true amateurs the natives rushed in, not even timing their entry properly. And his failure as their superior to do it for them. There was nothing though, they shouted as such before coming out. Moving forward Sybrand halted before the second set of doors ordering a repeat but using different men. Again there was nothing. Moving forward a trio of shots fired through the left corridor. Giving the signal Sybrand sends more men to check the rooms. Only the right side gave the all-clear. From the left room came no sound, even as their compatriots called in their native language. Keeping the door in his sight Sybrand quickly grabbed a grenade, then, reconsidering, grabbing another one. Pulling the pin he threw them both into the room. Waiting for a few tense seconds during which there was no reaction until the double explosions, joined with a loud roar. Before Sybrand could further react a native rushed past him, revving his chainsword quickly followed by two more. Looking down his barrel into the room he was just in time to see the two Orks dismembered. Two native soldiers, necks snapped lying on the floor. One of the soldiers, face twitching and blood spattered all over his clothing, turned to a dead body on the ground. Carefully taking the man's head between his arms, hugging him and rocking back and forth. Family. The same jaw.
'The Emperor Protects the Saints of His Victory.' And Sybrand moved on.
Just as he reached the end of the corridor he waited, keeping his gun trained at the staircase before looking around the corner into the corridor on the left using a Guard issue mirror. An Ork jumped down the staircase, carrying a looted lasgun. Firing its weapon while still unbalanced the beams whipped past Sybrand, hitting a native behind him. Shooting thrice he killed it, another Ork charging in behind him, coming right for him. Two shots, hiting the Ork once in the chest Sybrand's battle bred reflex brought his weapon up horizontally, blocking the cleaver but rendering itself beyond repair. The Ork's momentum pushed Sybrand against the ground. Using his battered gun to keep the dying xeno at bay as it snapped with its tusks Sybrand was hit by the beast's rancid stentch. A sickening aroma of month old sweat, stale beer, mushrooms and rotting food. Tears running down his face Jaws chewed through the Ork's spine in revenge. Raising his chainsword in defense he blocked a wounded Ork that had followed the first one down the staircase. Two cracks from a lasgun and the beast went down. Pushing the dead Ork up with the help of another native Sybrand saw Lieve approach through the left corridor, covering the staircase, followed by more native soldiers. Helped with getting the corpse off Sybrand got up and drew his backup weapon, a laspistol. There was movement upstairs and Lieve opened fire up the stairs.
'All hail!' Faticidus shouted.
'The Saints- no wait!' Sybrand shouted as a native rushed past him. Only taking a few steps shots were fired. Jaws froze, stopped dead in his tracks as lasbeams shot overhead. Only for the native coming up behind him to run into him, chainsword chewing through the chainmail on Jaw's back. Jumping back he fell on his own back, losing control of his unruly weapon it chewed through his throat and jaw. Flailing in pain he destroyed his right hand. Letting go of the weapon it turned itself off. Dropping his gun, safety on, and jumping forward Sybrand pushed it away.
'Get a medicae here Lieve.' Sybrand ordered, pushing down into the gushing wound, grabbing his small medicae kit with his free hand. Lieve didn't hesitate and used his micro-bead. Depowering his weapon Jaws stepped further down the stairs, Faticidus following carefully behind him.
'This guy is also wounded and we got one of ours upstairs, Lieve was it?' Lieve nodded rapidly as he talked to someone.
'Three wounded and some minors Sunny. The Emperor protects, no realy Saints here.' He said before growling something about 'the brightside' before snapping to attention.
'Yes lieutenant…yes lieutenant…yes lieutenant I understand.' Lieve said as Sybrand stood up from the dead native, making a prayer for the warrior's soul.
'Sunny, only two wounded now.' Turning to Sybrand Lieve looked in his eyes. They were unfazed, completely normal. And that scared him.
'Dame Julia is coming here, getting a view from the top floor, she's getting an autocannon up here as well. There's a problem. Some Swarm bastards that overran Pol's position stole at least one their chimeras and are stalking the streets. Alluminum Valk apparently took out one of Twans chimeras. She wants you to go up and take a look Sybrand.'
'Understood. Fatidicius take care of things down here will you?'
'Sure. Do you know if they're bringing in any food Lieve? Chems work we'll enough but some actual breakfast would be good.' The Saint asked as he had one of his men check up on Jaws.
'I have no idea.' Lieve said as he took a small container from one of his pockets. 'But I do have some candy.' Gratefully the Saints took a proffered treat, even a few of the natives shared in.
'Comf ohn less goh up.' Sybrand motioned for Lieve to follow him. Going up the stairs they passed two Saints, one of them with a wounded shoulder, though he seemed stable, two dead Orks and a Storm Sworn nearby. Lieve offered candy and Sybrand decided to take another one as well. He also grabbed one of the lasguns laying on the ground.
'Mine fell to the enemy.' He added as explanation.
'The other one is mine.' The wounded Saint, twenty or something, said between his teeth. Sybrand grabbed the other one. Reciting the Litany of Reloading he acquainted himself with its machine-spirit. Continuing in silence they came across more corpses. At the very top they found a luxurious set of room. It was the site of the native guards' last stand. Dying against impossible odds in protection of the family of the house. The mother lay dead over her two daughters, both of them shot in the back of the head with two soloshots. Dead before they knew what hit them. The Commissar had granted the same mercy to the ginger boy they captured before executing the rest. Approaching a balcony they looked out over Accrearres's savage frontline. Grabbing a simple magnocular from his kit Sybrand put it infront of his eyes.
'Cover me.'
(-+-)
(-+-)
The Swarm's artillery continued firing blindly into the city. Accrearres burned on both its sides, the rising smoke columns rose, fusing into one well above the ground. Creating cover for Warp spawned abominations prowling above the battlefield. The fire helping to keep the chem cloud away from them by sucking in air, hindering the Swarm further, if the Saints there managed to avoid them. Sybrand wondered what would have happened if the center had been burning as well. Would the cloud have been carried right up the city, screwing things up badly? Did Tjitse know this beforehand?
Plasma fire drew his gaze towards the right flank. Looking at the source he Neeltje, Freterik and Eefje on the right flank had been pushed back a good eighty meters away from the walls. Looking to the left he saw the glow of Red's plasmagun on street level, the Saint himself hidden from view, firing at something closeby in rapid succession. Anke, Tjeerd and Sytse fought there as well but were pushed back further than the right flank, well over a hundred and ten meters, it wasn't very far far from leveling with the center where Julia, Twan and the remains of Pol's platoon fought. Fifty meters away, more than two thirds of the way in, there was multilaser fire. It fired inward, towards the Saints. Aluminium Valk?
Hearing movement Sybrand put down his magnocular and turned around. Julia, Eomund, the admirably self-controlled blond kid from Tjitse's failed parade, cadet #1, two Saints carrying a disassembled autocannon and two more carrying ammo and a large voxset arrived in the room. The Saints setting up their gear at the balcony.
Sybrand and Lieve quickly saluted. Julia motioned them inside the room for Sybrand to give his findings. As Mariken's March began playing again and the autocannon opened fire Sybrand almost had to shout, but managed to quickly and accurately inform Julia. She looked off in the distance.
'Our left flank hasn't been pushed back. We're shortening the line and Tjeerd's platoon has been pulled back to Blachernae. Eefje as well, but if Tjeerd goes by his reputation-'
'He does.' Sybrand said, it was a smart move on Tjitse's part. Displeased the cadet stepped forward looking into Sybrand's eyes.
'Do not interrupt your superiors again.' Raising an eyebrow Sybrand looked at him for a moment.
'Understood.' He said before Julia resumed.
'He's sending them into the tunnels, after the civilian refugees. You've seen it; think it can hold all of us?'
'Probably, what I saw the base is about the size of a small city.' The cadet subtly put his hand on his holster. Sybrand expertly suppressed his laugh. They were forbidden from revealing anything beyond the first level of what was underneath Blachernae. Of what Tjitse and the Commissar are doing there.
'We're making the Swarm pay heavily for every meter while we burn Accrearres to the ground. And then use the base's tunnels to regroup beyond the mountain's base, regroup with Lotte's force and counter-attack up the mountain. Haak disagrees and-' The sergeant has no place questioning his superiors orders.' The cadet said harshly.
'Don't interrupt me again cadet. Haak thinks we should retake the walls instead. Your opinion on the plan?' Julia's smirk was invisible to cadet behind her. Though not an officer Sybrand was a sergeant from the old regiment. In mutual agreement with Nuyens he agreed not take a promotion so he could serve under the heroic young officer's command. On Sherxis Gerard had once referred to him as Tjitse's nursemaid and the company's best hope. Nova's beverages were a soldier's luxury that made it all worth it though.
'Ruthless and effective, very much in Tjitse's character, though it won't get him king of the year award. At the cost of the city our company will keep its casualties down. The walls are too battered to be much use by this stage, especially with the chems. Plus if we're not busy retaking them right now with all our reserves committed, we won't do so anytime soon. And I don't see too much merit in a halfway option.' Julia nodded her agreement.
'Do these people know exactly what Tjitse's plan is?' Sybrand asked though he knew the answer, he wanted the lieutenant's reaction. Julia shook her head, her face rigid and cold, this wasn't the time for weakness.
'Pyt's at Blachernae overseei-' Multilas beams impacted the balcony.
'Suns and Eagle!' Eomund yelled out as he dove for cover and the stream of fire destroyed the vox system, killing at least one Saint, and severely wounding the other as well. The Saints curses muted when the autocannon returned fire. The gunner and loader escaping death by inches as the enemy targeted them. Until the multilas fire stopped, quickly followed by the autocannon.
'Rusting Orks, desecrating everything they can get their claws on. Once they're purged our own sentinels and chimera's can flank the Orks via the chemcloud. Any suggestions to audit them Sybrand?'
'Can you miss your meltagun lieutenant?' Julia looked at her weapon, stroking it before taking off the strap and handing it to Sybrand.
'Only if I get it back sergeant.'
(-+-)
(-+-)
Meeskers walked through the chems, his scout sentinel designed to be silent. Across the sound of battle and the Great Wolf's Hunt he wasn't heard. Keeping half an eye on the chem surface, making sure it stayed well below the edge of Majestic Prowler's cockpit. The level had dropped as the chems flowed down Accrearres. Collecting in pools where it was trapped and couldn't flow any further. Pushed around gently by weak winds or rising in great plums only to fall back down again when houses collapsed or cannonballs impacted.
The good news being that Accrearres' stench was suppressed.
Hunting, alone after Fury's execution, through the shadowy streets the twin suns were only now rising high enough to dispel the darkest shadows. When he heard about Aluminum Valk he quickly turned off his lamplight. Searching via auspex, and sound.
A meltagun's distinctive hiss-roar made Meeskers focus his ears. Less than twenty meters away. Close to what he presumed to be a blacksmith on his auspex. Loud cracks indicated otherwise, multilas. Auspex went hot. It was moving. Coming closer.
Meeskers stepped backwards into a cul-de-sac, careful of not dissolving. Finger on the trigger. Then the disjunction came into view. Sound and image did not correspond. Image turned left, deeper into the city closer to the wall. Yet its engine sound rumbled only a few meters further away, turning to stationary as the image of Aluminium Valk did. Meeskers breather out, there was no indication he was seen. Aluminum Valk fired at the Saints positions further up. But the sound came from near. The damage was all too real though. Meeskers ignored the image, listened, and pulled the trigger.
Aluminum Valk exploded, pierced by Majestic Prowler's lasbeam, just a few meters away from Meeskers, the heat washed over him, making him squint. The location of its illusion birthed the sound of the explosion and consuming flames. Meeskers smiled predatorily, exhaling deeply through clenched teeth, a savage euphoria rushing through his veins. This is where the Emperor wants him to be, this is what the Emperor wants him to do.
Meeskers looked once more at his prey as he stalked off, and blinked, stopping dead in his tracks. Ignoring the burning wreck he cocked his head, slowly approaching to get a better angle. But the smoke obscured it, picking up speed he began to move closer, rejecting the whispers across the vox until he was positive.
(-+-)
(-+-)
At L4 Osissis' gamble hadn't backfired as horribly as he thought. Mutants Flagship had closed the distance, damaging Blazing Light with its weapon batteries. The Blazing Light's lance had cut through its shields, yet had done little damage to the large and bulbuous space-faring tumor. Getting inside its firing arc the Mutants Flagship had ceased its weapon battery fire, launching boarding craft and even two boarding torpedoes from two ziggurat like protrusion on its…whatever. Stranger are its two gargantuan harpoons. Confirmed to have been looted from a Mechanicus mining ship it shot a flexible, thin, relatively, but very long and incredibly strong cable. Mutants, with or without vac-suits, carrying heavy packs of melta charges and repurposed construction gear hooked on to the line, zipping towards the crippled Imperial frigate on the other side, beginning the process of assimilation.
At that point Uhmy'iiitaahz turned upon Mutants Flagship using its rapid fire coilguns and fighta-bommas. Mutants Flagship returned fire and pulled back its own motley assortment of attack-craft but maintained the cables.
Not pondering upon the way's of the Xeno and the Mutant Blazing Light seized its chance. Osissis prayed on behalf of ship and crew for the Blazing Light's Protection.
Turning to his own section of the battlespace he focused upon the one and a half kilometer long Ship o'Plenty picking up speed. Going to do its Duty unto its very destruction. Osissis respected it and its crew. At best sacrificing themselves, taking an Archenemy ship with them, at worst being little more than a glorified decoy.
Ahead the ominous specks of the Chaos fleet approached, hundreds of thousands of kilometers away but approaching fast. Firing torpedoes their weapons were closer and approaching faster. Each a hundred meter long powered by a plasmacore that doubled as a warhead. Armored and protected by a few simple point defense emplacements and directed by a will, whether Xeno, Machine or Unclean he did not know.
Opening moves, that's what it was. The torpedoes would be evaded or intercepted, but forced the Navy to change its position, to react in somewhat predictable manners, opening themselves up to follow up attacks. It's very much a mathematical game, and for once those muddwellers at city #2 were useful.
Their solutions were part of the reason why Osissis had send the Ship o'Plenty forward. Disrupt their positions, their firing vectors, their plans, if they had any.
And to see if the dead ship really was that, a dead ship.
Osissis received a mental note. Stef's squadrons would be ready to launch in three minutes. More important was that one of Steadfast's eight remaining marauders would be unable to launch, it had begun to fall apart after arrival, its machine-spirit holding on tenaciously until its crew was safe.
But the losses wouldn't distract them; instead it would sharpen their Hatred.
(-+-)
(-+-)
Ignorant of the general situation, bleeding, tired with no ammo and only bayonets left, the platoon banner, symbol of Duty, hanging like a cape around his shoulders and repeating the Litany of Hate Pol stood upon the battlement in the fullness of his of Faith.
His moment of battle mysticism ended when a harpoon shot in between his legs, grappling hooks shooting out to secure it against the battlement.
'Yo, Lieutenant Pol over here, over here!' Meeskers shouted into a voxhorn, flashing Majestic Prowler's lamp and honking repeatedly. Standing atop the debris of a collapsed dwelling the sentinel stood at its full height, well over the chems. After his initial, open jawed, surprise Pol didn't waste any time moving down the cable. There was a tense moment as a gargoyle appeared to swoop down upon him but Meeskers drove it off using a back-up lasgun. Pol reached the sentinel, hauling himself up on the sentinel's cage smiling widely at a mirroring Meeskers.
The Emperor Protects
'Here, I think you can use this better than me Lieutenant.' Meeskers offered Pol the lasgun which the latter eagerly took after safely stowing away the banner.
'Bringer of death, speak your name, for you are my life, and the foe's death.' Pol spoke the Litany of the Lasgun as a greeting to the weapon's machine-spirit, tracking it across an imaginary horizon. Meeskers guided Majestic Prowler back into the city.
'What's your name trooper? Call me Pol by the way.'
'Well Pol I'm Meeskers Haegijer.'
'Meeskers, thank you for saving me. Without vox and hidden by the smoke I didn't think anyone would see me and I wouldn't have made it back on my own to continue my Duty. I'll convince Messen to give you some more rations.' Pol said searching for something unholy too kill in the Emperor's name.
'Actually I'm just a bayonetchucker in lieutenant Jan's uhm Julia's platoon. Honno died just after Tjitse was martyred and I uh…took Majestic Prowler here…' There was a sad undertone in his voice as he lovingly petted the sentinel. 'For a review in the damned audit. So…if you co-' But Pol interrupted him.
'You're one of Messen's Saints Meeskers. Absolutely.' Pol said firmly. Meeskers petted Majestic Prowler, intensely relieved. Coming closing in on the Saints' right flank, the closest Imperial troops, they could make out Exaltation of Duty over the fighting.
'How did you find me by the way?' Meeskers was quiet for a moment, there really wasn't a good way to say it so he'd just have to say it.
'Aluminum Valk fell to Swarm. I granted it mercy. And then I saw you in my crosshairs.' Voice heavy with emotion Pol finally replied.
'I understand.' He coughed, regaining more control. 'How's my platoon?'
'Better than Jan's. Twan, Julia and some of Tjitse's staff counterattacked into the Swarm and you already know about the chems.'
'True, I helped guide the Navy in. Is Tjitse with Twan and Julia?'
'I…well…' Meeskers checked to see if there weren't any commissars around as Majestic Prowler walked on, ignoring the few individual Storm Swarm they came across. Pol chuckled, firing at and killing a Storm Sworm in red laminar armor, sending the skittish gretchin into hiding. A smallish Ork hesitated before jumping through a window into a house. The mutants followed quickly enough, only a Warpbeast attacked, flinging itself forward and being crushed underfoot.
'Trooper watercooler says Tjitse found something big underneath his new palace and that he's still there.' Pol simply uhumed, as an officer he already knew about that, but couldn't let Meeskers know. 'We're all being pulled back to it that's for sure. Thinks we're going to sneak through the tunnels underneath, link up with Lotte and attack these bastards in the rear after we made them bleed.'
'I understand.' Things must be bad if Tjitse is willing to sacrifice his prize is what Pol didn't say. No need to alarm the dog-soldiers. Turning a corner they walked into a long street at the end of which there appeared to be fighting. Pol fought off a gretchin jumping down, though considering its wounds it was probably kicked off, knocking it over the side and onto the ground in between the dead. Meeskers got on the vox, heralding their arrival to the Saints. The end of the street was packed with Storm Swarm, mostly Orks, throwing themselves at some natives in a spear wall around the corner. From the surrounding buildings Pol could also make out fighting including a Warpbeast that was barely contained. Shotguns boomed in the mêlee. Switching on his lamp and chuckling maniacally Meeskers stepped onto as many of the panicked enemy as he could. Pol's contribution was mostly for show until they made their way past the spears. Gently, relatively speaking, pushing them aside the formation was jumbled, Pol preventing the Storm Swarm from exploiting it.
Past the lines they made their way to a small square, little more than the courtyard of a merchant. There they found Freterik, Dirk close by, at a command post doubling as medicae station, open air mess hall and concert as the Imperial Battle hymn of Tempestus was sung by machine-spirits. Another Ork salvo pushed it into the background before resurfacing.
'Pol, I thought the Navy got you. Those interns can't do anything right.'
'I'm happy to see you to Freterik.'
'Yeah well, I suppose you want to go back to your platoon.'
'And miss you? Well, if the Emperor demands it…' At which Freterik gave a barking laugh.
'I informed Tjitse, your platoon should know you survived by now. Dirk here is coming with you, some of your platoon's machines fell into damnation and Sybrand apparently lost Julia's meltagun. Wish I could send that cadet with you. What's his name Dirk?'
'He uhm doesn't know it lieutenant. It's a prize until after his final exam. His designation is #2.'
'Oh, and when's this final exam then?' Pol asked, indulging his sin of curiosity.
'Now.'
(-+-)
(-+-)
A message from the Steadfast gently nudged against her mind, its sides softened, low priority. Sparing a glance she saw that it was about the Blazing Light, poor Smoky, before focusing. A trio of missiles, hers, 0% remaining (right pod damaged), 20% heat, and Scion Secundus and Quintus, flew across the void towards the massive torpedo many kilometers away, approaching fast. Missiles nearing the torpedo the weapon unsheathed its point defense turrets, laser and coilguns, in defense. Tracking their targets and firing they revealed their position to the lightnings. Seizing their opportunity they fired their las cannons, 95% remaining, 22% heat, at the turrets. Destroying two las and one coilgun turret on the torpedo's flank before pulling up hard, staying out of the weapon's potential blast radius. Three follow-up fighters from her Scion squadron fired their missiles into the torpedo's blind spot before peeling off themselves. The one remaining coilgun turret locked on to one of the missiles and managed to destoy it quickly. Turning to another missile it started firing, missing. Stef clamped down on her auspex's, receiving signal that her squadron did likewise. Striking the torpedo at least one missile damaged its plasmacore, breaching containment, sending a jet of plasma through the weakspot one millisecond before the entire weapon catastrophically failed the next.
Congratulating each other on their teamwork the squadron extended its radiators. The other torpedoes and fighters were far enough away too risk it. Stef opened the Steadfast's message, it was about the Blazing Light. Capturing her falling heart Stef shared the information with her squadrons. Mentally applauding she had a slaved fight-attendant in the Steadfast's mindtrix translate and relay the sentiment to the captain, humbly asking for it to be delivered to the Blazing Light.
A large hololithic display of the battlespace floated inside the Steadfast's inner sanctum, Under Debate's auspex blind spot filled in by the muddwellers. Its machine-spirit displaying information normally invisible to the human senses. Radiation, electro-magnetic fields, Warp overlay, groundside data, Lagrange points and gravity currents.
For Osissis, and for most serving in the inner sanctum, it was a ritual. Enmeshed as they are via their implants. Only the youngest cadets were not yet so blessed. Stef's request, however justified, warranted only little of the ship's attention, especially now that Ophelia Ranger had its second a firing solution on the Herald of the Unknown Birth. It fired its lance just as Osissis passed the message along to City #2 for it to relay to the Blazing Light.
The muddweller below actually had the gall to start making suggestions. Wanted him to land transports to pick up some muddwellers and ferry them over to Blazing Light, muddwellers and their sense of scale. Receiving Ship o'Plenty's communiqué with its findings on the dead ship. Completley ignored by the Chaos frigates, safe for some distant potshots, barely flaring its shields, it had reached the derelict from, Emperor willing, safe distance. But everything came back cold. Reluctantly Osissis asked for its troop and transport capability. Anything could tip the balance on Blazing Light. And if need be the armed transport could go toe to toe with a crippled frigate. It might actually win.
Osissis flared his nostrils. Detecting a large explosion at the Herald's bow both ships held their psychosomatic breath as data flooded in. Somewhat disappointingly the lance had cut through the shields only to detonate a freshly fired torpedo. They got a return on some floating debris, but couldn't tell if it was from the torpedo or the Chaos frigate. Distant weapon batteries fired, going wide of Ophelia Ranger but forcing it into slightly more predictable trajectories, increasing the chance of a future hit.
A confirmation arrived from Blazing Light. Inside its guts Naval armsmen fought a desperate battle against the mutant boarders. An existential fight for the ship as it had managed to destroy Mutants Flagship. With the both of them fighting Blazing Light threw its bow sunward, actually using Mutants Flagship's harpoons to steal momentum. The cost was armor plating, exposing its innards to Mutants Flagship, as well as a few hundred boarders. Fighting Uhmy'iiitaahz it didn't, couldn't, take advantage and finish it. In an even more daring move the frigate continued to pull, apparently trying to escape but threatening to overshoot. Instead its exhaust destroyed Mutants Flagship's shield and then carving its way across its twisted surface even as Uhmy'iiitaahz continued stomping on it. Too much. Secondary explosions bloomed in its rotting guts as it began to fall apart. Shortly afterward it exploded as its reactor failed, killing the monsterous Mutant-Emperor.
A genuine contribution to the Emperor's war-effort in the sub-sector. Uhmy'iiitaahz, crippled, even before Mutants Flagship clawed back in death-throes,was beating its chest in a delusion of victory. Despairing at the death of their dark messiah the mutant voidcraft threw themselves upon Uhmy'iiitaahz in suicidal revenge. Burning and heavily damaged the Ork's survival was up to chance.
A plasma warhead detonated two thousand kilometers away, destroyed by Reaper and Hawk combined. Only a few minutes later an infidel's first salvo got in a lucky hit against Steadfast's shields. Osissis hissed in sympathetic pain and rage, lip twitching. Containing the urge to rush forward and bring them into range of Steadfast's two short ranged but potent lances Osissis kept the course. Waiting until the moment momentum would inexorably carry the enemy into the carefully hidden killzone. Not for the first time Osissis was glad that the Eldar cruiser had been devoured. He really hated the Eldar.
(-+-)
(-+-)
Pyt flashed his picrecorder, again, for something like the ten millionth time by Wazer's count. Freteriks platoon stood upon Blachernae's platform in the noon heat and relaxed after the last flash.
'One more.' Pyt said, keeping his camera in place. Only the presence of cadet #2, guarding the last of the native treasury, kept them from collectively groaning. Ten million and one. And the 79 fit survivors went down with their blackened machines.
'Isn't the machine-spirits memory full by now?' Talking loudly over the sounds of fighting and the Beseechment of Martyrdom Wazer didn't look up from her Duty, noting down numbers in a large parchment codex. A drop of sweat ran down her nose and fell down. Ten million and two.
'Nope.' Pyt said bluntly but not unfriendly. 'It's a wonder of the Emperor-Omnissiah. These are historic moments dame. And I'm blessed by the Emperor to record them. These pics will resonate through the ages of this world. Truth be told I can't wait for tomorrow morning. When we come out of the tunnels at the mountain's base and make a glorious charge with Lotte's forces in the Swarm's back. It will be a glorious charge.' Awed by his sliver of immortality Pyt fondled his recorder before turning back to Wazer. 'Make sure you have everything in order, we're going down next as well. So you'll have to carry a bag as well.' As to lead by example the muddweller swung a brown bag over his shoulder, heavy with Emperor knows what. Standing up and wiping the sweat from her brow Wazer sighed, if there was one thing worse than being on a dirtball it was being below its surface. Down some dark hole into the ground, down there…
The rest may be blessed with Ignorance but she knew, she knew, the alien death below… Motioning at the blonde kid the soot stained boy jumped up from his position and ran towards the front. Telling Julia, Sybrand and Messen that their ride was coming up. Turning around Wazer started walking away.
'I'll inform Sunny that he'll have to prep his patients. It's now or never. You get this as much in order will you?' Without waiting for reply she continued on. She felt sorry these muddwellers. She couldn't imagine how it would be lose her home. For Steadfast to be overrun and burned by the damned… She shivered, a city wasn't a ship off course. But still.
Pushing past the plastic curtain she entered a short funnel. Closing her eyes and pressing a button, a potent ultraviolet sterilizing her sweaty skin. Exiting through another curtain at the end she entered the infirmary. Here lay those that couldn't be moved to the main infirmary below. The typical medicae smell was pungent with death and the sounds of the dying.
Looking at their faces she saw the fear of the sinner and the acceptance of the humble. Some even looked hopeful. Sunny hummed along with the Beseechment as he danced in between the beds, two field medicae's supporting him. Sunny turned around at the new arrival.
'Mar? Oh, its you. Not that I'm not happy to see you dame Wazer.' He beamed at her before his face darkened. 'Though we'll have to start moving them to the throne room then. Oke mo's, give them enough sedatives and painkillers for the trip. Could you help me keep trooper Claesen down. He doesn't like needles.' Smile back at its previous level he put on thin white gloves and took an empty syringe from the gurney. Filling it with a good dose in front of the trooper's eyes as he started whistling. Definitely brain damaged in the crash last week. Emperor help her, it was a life time ago. Holding down the weakly struggling Claesen down Wazer prayed while Sunny deftly injected the chems.
'He's a recent arrival from the fighting. I didn't have time for an IV drip yet.' Claesen quickly sank down into a half-sleep, a stupid grin on his face as Sunny handed him his adamantium balls. For the first time his smile had fully dissipated. 'I hope Mar shows up quickly.' But as he turned to another patient it quickly resurfaced. 'Could you start unlocking their wheels dame?' Wazer looked confused for a moment, wheels? But then she understood and got to work. Doing what she could to feel useful on Undeb. Doing what she could not to look the Saints in the eyes. Too real.
'Who needs last rites Sunny?' Wazer turned around, jumping back in shock and stiffing a yell. Sunny looked wild-eyed before whooping and applauding with gloved hands.
'Nice, nice. Well done preacher. Father Piers would've been proud of you. You're a real Alter Autocrator. And this is the man in most dire need of your benefices.' Sunny said radiantly. Mar beamed back at him, blushing. Which made him even redder. Naked, covered in tiny wounds and covered in so much blood that it dripped onto the floor, forming a small puddle Mar stood proudly before turning over Claesen. The Book of Illumination around his neck still worked, giving off a red glow with dark shapes moving behind it. Bending over the Saint he began the last rites.
Wazer turned around and exited as quickly as her weak legs could carry her. Reaching the throne room she saw the first squads of Saints reach the throne room. The boy and Eomund led the last native warriors back. Their eyes were hollow and distant. The sounds of battle were louder and closer.
Klaas carefully pulled the remarkably intact company banner down from Nova. Thim looked up to him from the ground, sipping some ice water, ready to drive it into the throne room once it was removed. Supported by Dieuwke, cadet #1 and Mar lieutenant Pol's Saints would hold back the Storm Swarm at Blachernae itself. Facing off alone against them until the last ride down. Leaving the place ready to detonate.
Approached Pyt the man turned around to her. 'The platform just reached the base, it should be coming back up soon.'
'I can't wait to get down there.' And she meant it.
(-+-)
(-+-)
Circling each other at ever closer ranges the ships were rapidly approaching knife ranges. After a near direct hit by a torpedo the Ophelia Ranger found itself having to switch to its weapon batteries in Under Debate's orbit against Herald of the Unknown Birth. With both their main armaments useless it came down to their modest weapon batteries. In the slogging match the light cruiser could take the punishment better than the frigate. Slowly the Ophelia Ranger was winning.
The other two frigates had their hands free to focus on the Steadfast. The trio's dance was far more complex than the pair's. The Infidels weapon batteries whittled away at the Steadfast's shields and body but were more accurate at shorter ranges. Any torpedoes launched could cripple the light cruiser, but any fired at range had a good chance of being evaded or intercepted by the lightnings. But for the Steadfast to use its potent lances it had to get close. Right into their torpedoes. The glancing hit it managed to score on Delta had crippled the Infidel's auspexes.
'Zero.' The fight-attendant's monotone thought informed Stef as she was launched back into the void. Her Link quickly followed, launched from their own tunnels.
'Target Gamma-2.' She informed her Link, turning her craft onto an intercept course to the approaching torpedo. Feeling it up with her remaining weapon pod as a few kilometers away a salvo of anti-ship slugs mostly went wide. One impacted against the Steadfast's voidshields, its energy drained.
'Overwritten by captain's orders. Link Stef you are instructed to intercept target Delta-3' Instinctively but bewildered Stef began to execute her new orders. Steadfast could evade Gamma-2 without too much trouble, but would open itself up for a repeat from Gamma at almost point blank ranges. Too close for anything fancy Stef concluded.
'Fire, shoot it down. Protect the Steadfast.' Leading by example Stef launched Scion Prime's one missile and fired away with her las cannons, sharing the intimate firing details with her Link. But the torpedo's prow was well armored. Even the missiles that got through hardly nudged it off course before it course corrected. They kept firing even as they rushed into and through its blast radius, to no avail.
'It got through Steadfast, get ready.' Stef cursed physically while informing the Steadfast's through her implants. They wouldn't have time for another pass. Meanwhile she and her Link began evasive action to dodge the torpedo's point defenses.
Able to turn around just in time to see the torpedo enter the Steadfast's perimeter. Weakened by the voidcraft the Steadfast's concentrated point defenses destroyed the torpedo. Momentum carried the explosion forward before dissipating, only brushing against Steadfast's skin. Osissis waved the pain off in contempt, evading another torpedo and gunning for Delta.
This was it. Osissis gave the signal. The last handful of marauders launched, accompanied from his bulk by transports, hopefully confused for something more dangerous by Delta. While Delta could make the most out of its handicapped auspexes Gamma took advantage, entering a firing trajectory. A few seconds later all parties launched.
Osissis, intently focused upon the battelspace, tracking trajectories, chuckled. His chuckling grew into open laughter when the Infidels noticed the eight anti-orbital missiles shoot up from the mudball's polar regions.
'Hehehe. Damned Heretics, don't you know the Emperor Protects? And sometimes he actually works through the Guard. Hahahaha.' Osissis began to laugh louder as the Emperor's wrath began to consume the fallen vessels.
(-+-)
(-+-)
Green lightning flashed across a storm and smoke filled sky. Thunder and the Beseechment of Martyrdom battling for dominance. The twin suns hanging bleakly in the sky as they raised the temperature. Continuous las and auto fire from the remains Pol's platoon was answered with the sporadic fire of soloshots, looted lasguns and heavy stubbers from the Storm Swarm. Not nearly enough to suppress the Saints' determination. Across the razed buildings the Storm Swarm advanced endlessly across the killzone towards Blachernae, the ground covered in a carpet of the dead with blood running downwards in small rivers.
'Blood for the Emperor, souls for His throne!' Mar repeated endlessly as he chewed up the Storm Swarm trying to break through the main barricade into Blachernae. By now he was soaked in blood and covered in chunks, standing ankle deep in blood.
'Blood for the Emperor, souls for His throne!' Pumped on faith and fire, and some Saintly chems, he glorified the Emperor. Cadet #1 stood almost two meters behind him, shotgun in her hand, blasting anything that got past Mar. The latter unaware of Dieuwke's sentinels trickling back to the throne room.
'Blood for the Emperor, souls for His throne!'
Cadet #1 didn't have much time to contemplate their tactical situation as an Ork with its face half chewn off got past Mar, trying to attack him in the back. After Emperor knows how long Pol called the final retreat.
'Blood for the Emperor, souls for His throne!' The lieutenant came down the stairs leading a squad of Saints, splattering into the blood. Promethium tank empty the flame trooper had switched to a lasgun but refused to abandon his dear weapon. Lasfire and bayonets holding the Storm Swarm at bay while the cadet braved life and limb to inform Mar.
'Blood for the Emperor, souls for His throne!'
Pol murmured the Blessing of the Bomb as he set the final detcharge as lasbeams and soloshots flew past him. Nestling it between the stone archway some mutant remains.
'Move Saints, move now!' Pol ordered his men back as he kept to the rear, occasionally turning around for potshots at the howling insanity chasing at their heels. Mar was silent, mouth parted and in a world of his own as he ran beside them. Making their way through the formerly grand halls to the throne room, passing the scattered remains of almost fifteen hundred years of history, the Saints felt hopeful, almost exuberant. Explosions rippled behind them bringing down part of Blachernae.
Entering the throne room Mar revved his chainswords again.
'Blood for the Emperor, souls for his throne!'
Triumphantly leaving two dead frigates behind Osissis directed the Steadfast closer towards the dueling couple. The Ophelian Ranger by now had a firm advantage over the Herald of the Unknown Birth so Osissis took careful aim. But then his auspexes started going dark and a tremor reverberated down Steadfast's Warp core. Diagnostics indicated nothing wrong with the machine-spirit's senses or processing. With dawning horror Osissis realized that the corpse-ship had drifted silently like a specter between their respective positions and was beginning its unholy feast.
Blood and other viscera dripped down the roof and walls, human entrails draped over the furniture and broken bones sticking into eye sockets and rib cages, flayed skin plastered against the walls and floor. Broken and shattered Dieuwke's sentinels were arranged in an eight-pointed star on the platform. In the center stood a small boy with three horrific mouths and no eyes holding hands with a large, horribly mutated Ork, teeth pushing through its eyeballs creating festering wounds that cried puss. Shredding the last of its matterium vision Iiikhen'Tuh spoke through the monstrous Ork in the innocent voice of a young human child.
'Eye iz cunnin', climmin' up da roks en all.'
And then both its puppets began to laugh in mocking victory while the platform began to descent.
(-+-)
(-+-)
As the one, and only, human being to have made a connection to the base's machine-spirit in almost fifteen hundred years Tjitse, and only Tjitse, had been allowed by Inquisitor Herder to communicate with it, to inload its forbidden data. On the surface he handled communication and anti-orbital weaponry for the Navy. Below the surface Tjitse quested for data caches of forbidden knowledge to be inloaded and packaged, trying, and gloriously failing, to be Ignorant. Of Xeno's and the Dark Age. Of the Fall and the Unconsumed Embryo of Damnation. Of the Archenemy and the Ordo Malleus. Of their Chamber-Militant and interrogator Arres. Strangely, the death of the Ophelia Ranger reassured him, as opposed to the Steadfast's. At least he wouldn't die hooked to an Inquisitorial excruciator, trying to purge the sin of unholy knowledge from his soul.
Blam!
Tjitse almost jumped out of his comptrol chair as Serf's head exploded, covering the right side of his head not protected by meshgear. Hope saved the Astropath's weak soul from the Warp entity tunneling through its brain and into the comptrol room. Tjitse sensed the boltpistol, it almost pressed against the back of his neck.
'Status.' Hope demanded.
'Peachy.' Tjitse replied calmly as his mind entered the new corridor inside the machine-spirit, following it deeper and deeper into forbidden territory. Hope's gun did not waver. Or fire. Tjitse pressed on, not stirring a soul as he reached further into the alien depths with the fingers of his mind. Listening to translations of translations of translations he groped for meaning as he gave the carefully phrased command to save, or damn, or both. Seeing it turn and twist and activate things beyond his human understanding. In the deep abyss kilometer high pylons rose from the crushing depth, eldritch sigils burning on its surface untarnished by the passing of time, the freezing ocean around it devoid of life safe the rapidly dying micro-organisms. Further within the system grand green lightning storms ravaged the upper atmosphere of gas-giants, so fortuitously named Powers by the natives. Ancient Xeno defense systems, buoyant upon the deep gas currents and hidden by hard radiation, rose from their deep slumber and aimed at their anathema. Half asleep they listened for word from their copies, finding none due to the occulting whispers from the inheritors, before individually firing, cutting the corpse-ship's realspace body apart, while the strengthened barrier locked out its warp part. Uneasily they were being lured back to hibernation.
Quickly rising to the surface of his mindscape Tjitse launched the rest of his weaponry in desperation before coming up. Whizzing and clicking the chair opened up, pulling the audio, visual and haptic accessories as he disconnected his datacord, internal chrono ticking away at a blistering speed. Standing up on weak legs he wiped the cold sweat from his brow, the only sparkles coming from it, a relief, considering what to say.
'Commissar we should-' Tjitse began but was interrupted as the massive adamantium blastdoors began to buckle and twist, groaning tortured words.
'Fuck…' Tjitse finished.
'All hail…ME! I'm…back…for…you…TJITSE!' Red hot adamantium gave way, falling down into the comptrol room, melting or igniting the priceless equipment. But Iiikhen'Tuh's playthings were already fleeing through a side door. Running Tjitse fired over his shoulder and saw the blue plasma hang in midair halfway across the room before turning tar black. By chance Tjitse stumbled just as the daemon rebounded the shot. The dark matter appeared to suck out the light as Tjitse turned the corner the corner, a hissing scream and mocking laughter followed him even as specks of heat began to burn through his carapace.
'Back to the shaft!' Tjitse panted as Hope forced him to let go of her arm, he hadn't realized he had pulled her along, without stopping, pulling out a demo-charge and pistol. Tjitse wasn't worried, Hope understood, no field execution for him.
'Can you reach the rest?' Hope asked as deadpan as ever while priming the bomb. But Tjitse shook his head, not even bothering to try and open up the vox, knowing all too well what would enter his voxbead if he did. Hope looked around and timed her throw. It landed a few meters from the abomination, which simply continued laughing as it walked forward. Unable to run any faster they braced as best they could but the explosion was far stronger than anticipated, sending them flying across the rest of the corridor and landing in a heap against the wall. The laughter sounded above and beyond the ringing in their ears, as if emanating from their very mind. Tjitse looked through the smoke and dust and somehow saw Iiikhen'Tuh's relentless approach. Its maws seemed to widen and darken as he gazed at them, fixed upon his soul, ready swallowing and rend the wretched…
No.
Hope grabbed him and together they fell through a doorway just as a wall of force surged down the corridor, slamming into the wall and sending them sprawling again. Tjitse coughed out the smoke and dust, allowing Hope to find him again. Painfully she grabbed him by the neck pulling him up and along. Glanding every drop in his system Tjitse blinked to get the dust out of his burning eyes as he painfully followed after Hope. Supporting each other from falling they made their way further, running from damnation as best they could.
Seeing a fire-team and some native support appear made their collective heart jump. Lowering their weapons when they saw who it was the corporal and a soldier helped them up.
'Central shaft, now!' Tjitse ordered hoarsely.
'This way sir.' The corporal said and started moving, not wasting a second, wisely he didn't ask anything. Pale and sweaty, like the rest, contained fear was etched on his face. Taking a swig from an offered canteen helped clear his throat. Not enough time.
'Have someone hold this corridor corporal.' Hope tilted her head to Tjitse but said nothing. Closing his eyes for a moment the corporal nodded and handed him over to another soldier.
'Marlinde, with me.' He said, taking position behind a pillar and aiming down the corridor. Revving their chainswords the natives stood their ground in the center. Making their way further to the central shaft there was the sound of a short desperate fight and that horribly mocking laughter for even trying. A second later a series of las shots streaked past them and they fell down, pushed to the ground by the dead weight of the Saints. Tjitse managed to untangle himself in time to see Hope shoot a foaming Marlinde. Helping her up Tjitse and Hope ran further, past the bewildered natives looking on apprehensively from side corridors, some asked their king.
'Run!' Hope boomed through her voxbox, the both of them failing to notice that she said it in Gothic. But their endless screams spoke of Iiikhen'Tuh.
'The price of failure… aeons of… AGONY…but now…REVENGE!' Tjitse felt the words carved into the back of his mind as much as he heard them. The laughter felt like pustules and charred scales pushing down on his mind, colder than the void as it began to flay away layer after layer after layer, making sure Tjitse remained whole and sharp enough to understand it all. Bleeding through the nose Tjitse and Hope staggered upon entered the central shaft.
Gargoyles and screamers flying around the edges of a charnel house in a hungry school. Tjitse hesitated but Hope did not, leading him into the swarm, firing her weapons. When hit the daemons left the school, charging the pair as they tried to cross the platform. The others ignored them, dancing to daemonic music that Tjitse could hear better and better as Iiikhen'Tuh approached. Blinking away tears of blood Tjitse brought down his cane in an electric arc that shattered the matterrium shell of a screamer diving for Hope. Following it up with a shot from his plasma pistol against a gargoyle trying to flank her. Taking another shot Tjitse managed to ash a gargoyle while Hope killed another.
'What now?' Hope asked as she continued to fight her way forward. Tjitse was about to answer when a chill ran down his spine. Iiikhen'Tuh stopped at one layer of Tjitse's mind. The silence followed by mocking laughter was worse.
'Yes what now fearless captain?' Iiikhen'Tuh asked teasingly as each daemon looked inward and began to laugh at Tjitse. 'How do you plan to win against me? Hmmm?' It asked again, smiling and laughing menacingly. Rapid multilas fire blasted through the rear of the swarm from one tunnel, miniature suns streaking from it as well as some mundane las shots, granting Tjitse a glimpse of Nova, his squad and Wazer coming to the rescue like big damn heroes.
'Captain this way!' Pyt called as he fired his lasgun, finishing off a screamer Sybrand had hit. Wazer kept her terror barely contained, her shaking aim missing most, one beam whipping just past Tjitse's head. Welcoming the mundane danger of friendly fire Tjitse and Hope ran for it, ignoring the human remains sloshing around their ankles in their urge to survive. A gargoyle, winged by Wazer, flew past them until Hope shot it in the back. They kept firing their weapons at the daemons that continued to ignore them, flying around the edges, and mocking them the harder for it when they managed to draw attention.
Tjitse's heart skipped a beat, a cloying, freezing breath passed over him, caressing his spine with predatory intent. Expertly Dirk fired one plasma bolt in between Tjitse and Hope, at Iiikhen'Tuh right as he entered the shaft. It hovered in front of the daemon for two short seconds before bursting like a bubble. The heat cooking the flesh and boiling the blood for meters around before the cannibal soup decayed to black sludge, sprouting tiny tentacles, mutated limbs and toothed orifices.
'You lost your Ignorance, and now you know.' Iiikhen'Tuh giggled in his sweet childlike voice as it cocked one of its heads, striding forwards, spreading the corruption with each step. Dirk's and Red's plasma weapons began to overheat, Nova's multilas jammed, and all the normal las beams did little more than scold its skin. By chance Tjitse slipped on a piece of lung, sending him face first while Hope rushed onward.
'Yuu haz no burnin' Hate fo da enemy!' Iiikhen'Tuh declared in the rough, guttural voice of the Ork as Tjitse, dripping in blood and coughing up bits of human flesh, managed to get up, almost slipping again as he desperately followed after Hope. Majestic Prowler fired its lascannon from another tunnel, destroying one of the daemon's arms. Immediately a bloated, mutant head, a cruel mockery of Pol grew from the stump, smiling. It stopped and looked sideways with its new face. Immediately the sound of tortured metal echoed from the tunnel as the inherited sentinel began to fold in around itself, and Meeskers caught inside. Klaas, having manned the pintle mounted heavy stubber, fired at Iiikhen'Tuh, annoying it.
'You have no sense of Duty to the Imperium!' Iiikhen'Tuh said in Pol's contemptuous voice. From the charnel a blood soaked Mar stood up slowly, eyes completely blank, las beams and boltrounds missing him by inches. Hurling himself against the daemon head-first Mar made it stagger while the follow up punches and kicks pushed it back a step. Taking the punishment the daemon hissed, standing still before a wave of corposant cold sends the young priest flying into another tunnel and sending Hope, Tjitse, and the other Saints, sprawling again.
'You have no Faith in the God-Emperor!' Its multiple heads damningly concluded in father Piers' voice as Tjitse scrambled on all fours to reach his beloved Nova. Laughing maniacally through the voxhorn Ewout appeared from another tunnel in Face-eater, emptying the toxic chems from his containers. Acting like a chimney the fumes rose quickly up the shaft, dissolving the lesser daemons while annoying Iiikhen'Tuh, forcing it to stand still and keep the chems at bay. Motioning with one arm the daemon lord of Tzeentch pulled Face-eater across the chamber. Tones of metal flew towards him Tjitse as he dived, too late…
No.
Motioning with one arm the daemon lord of Tzeentch pulled Face-eater across the chamber. Tjitse dived, just in time, evading tones of metal. The banewolf scrapped Nova's paint with the sound of squeaking metal as it came to a halt.
'All you have is Hope, my favorite sustenance…' Iiikhen'Tuh hungrily growled before it started to laugh at the mortals again. Pyt and Sybrand moved forward, providing cover for Tjitse as he scampered across the floor. Tearfully Tjitse made a sigh of relieve as he reached the safety of his Saints in the tunnel, placing his hand on Nova's front armor for comfort. The recoil from the heavy bolter felt soothing as it began to fire while the rest of his Saints fought to keep the Warp forces at bay. Raising himself to his full height Tjitse turned around and looked at the approaching Iiikhen'Tuh, laughing with its many hungry mouths as it withstood the desperate attempts to kill it.
'How than do you plan to win against inevitable odds Tjitse? How?'
Gripping his cane tightly in his left hand Tjitse stood up just as the massive blast doors protecting the tunnels began to close. A flick of his head and the visor from his cap protected Tjitse's eyes. Showing Iiikhen'Tuh the ring of rulers Tjitse's chest flared up again as he bobbed his middle finger up and down, grinning. Closing in a heavy thump the blast doors obscured the view from a grinning Tjitse, his internal chrono had reached zero.
'Anti-orbital weaponry.' He laughed triumphantly as at the surface the plasma warhead detonated, destroying the Swarm and Accrearres before travelling down the shaft and obliterating Iiikhen'Tuh from Undeb. At least in that regard the ad hoc plan was a success.
Great.
Oh yes…