Chapter 37
No workshop was complete without a drawing board, and Solomon's was a combination of gifts, innovations, and more than a bit of dual tinkering between him and Syngra. Hence, it was as useful as it was often a mess. Holographic displays, stenographer servoskulls churning out records from parchment scrolls tucked into their mouths, a series of readily-available designs of components of larger items, along with whatever technical readouts could be found of those specific pieces.
There was thousands upon thousands of years of technological progress lost during the Long Night in pretty much any scientific field imaginable, much of it likely unable to ever be recovered, but whatever small steps could be made to solidify the knowledge base of these oft-mystical or indecipherable technologies, the better for all mankind. Even the smallest thing was a great boon that could save countless lives, and every major discovery, even if it were merely how to better mass produce a simple cog or wiring component for a lasgun, could be seen as nothing less than miraculous by a galaxy so torn apart.
Finding the key links and breakthrough necessary between many of these technologies had an entire section of Solomon's ever-growing research teams dedicated to them, many often starting from scratch, and by scratch, that was literally sticks and stones in some cases. He'd laid out the scientific method to them as best as he could recall, and told them to apply that to the most absolute basic technology they could come up with, citing that the method worked even when it appeared to not have, meaning it was likely something designed by the Machine God to always function.
Consisting of servitors with massively bloated craniums similar to Lexomat servitors, equivalent to partially-biological computers, such "programs" and studies were running almost non-stop. With these to aid them, several teams were following lines of technology like branches of trees, rapidly progressing based off any information that could be gleamed from Solomon or whatever scraps that could be found elsewhere. Some lines had moved from Iron Age technology to Renaissance technology in less time that it took for Solomon to walk from the bridge of his cruiser to the main hangar bays. All of this knowledge was then constituted down into readily accessible data packets on DCDs and copied onto numerous others, to be distributed at later dates.
However, the largest problem was the increasing complexity of the technological studies along these lines. Eventually, such rapid progress would be slowed to a crawl, as what was known became more and more based upon conjecture and not decipherable through simple calculations and simulations. In time, many things would have large gaps between the witnessed technology, and the lines from which they had descended, sort of like trying to figure out what had happened between the very first primitive firearms and the workings of voidship macrocannon batteries.
Figuring out how to branch these gaps was going to take a long time and a lot of effort, and in many cases, the connections might never be fully made, as unique perspectives and situations that made these leaps would never converge again. All that could be accomplished, all they could hope for, was some greater understanding of the workings of the universe, and use this for the betterment of mankind.
Solomon slowly drew the schematic up from a previous, unsuccessful experiment, drawn from ideas and memories he'd perused during his sleep, a very handy skill the two beings in his head had bestowed upon him.
The historical usage of stubber-style weapons dated back to before even his earliest memories, and as such finding ways of potentially improving such tried and true technology was going to be tricky. There was the standard ork-like solution of just adding more bullets to the equation, though that would also create a whole new slew of issues, such as reloading, manufacturing needs, waste, and the potential for running out of ammunition before running out of enemies if the rate of fire was too rapid.
However, one of the other ways something could be improved upon, was simply throwing something else into the equation instead of something already in place. The replacement of certain materials, for example, could be a boon to the weapon's overall deadliness, especially when combined with other, smaller changes.
"Replacing the round material with a far denser substance, combined with increased caliber and proportional increase in propellant," Solomon muttered to himself, several holograms flicking about as parts and technical readouts were swapped here and there. "All we'll need now is a steady supply of osmium, and we'll be set. Now our most basic weapons will be able to punch even farther above their weight class, assuming supply issues don't cripple this idea." Unless somehow found in pure form or synthesized through complex processes, the only reliable way of getting natural osmium was through separating it from platinum and similar metals.
Speaking of which, he was going to have to talk with Syngra about incorporating the Marionetta technology into the upcoming Sospitator Corps. For once the issue was not for once going to be about the construction resources, but instead the biological ones. The recruitment rate for "volunteers" was going to hit a snag if deals were not reached with whatever penal worlds and hive worlds they had easy access to, like Starth Tertius. Come to think of it, a good number of his upcoming Guard regiments and settlers were coming from some of these same hive worlds.
Recruits for the Salutis Corps weren't going to be as much of an issue. The various Sororitas outposts springing up on various worlds and the cooperative nature of many of their recruiting drives meant there were plenty of people out there willing to fight and die for their perceived slights against mankind or the Manperor. If they wanted to fight until they got killed, all for the good of mankind, Solomon wasn't going to stop them. Might as well help give them the tools to accomplish such a task, even if it was a bit of a downer for him personally.
"Just need to find a way to incorporate something similar to Lightning Claws without sacrificing the ability to retrieve and use other weapons. Maybe something retractable along the forearm?" Solomon muttered as the vox in the corner flared to life.
"Captain, you are needed on the bridge," one of his officers reported. "The Navigator has declared we shall be exiting the Warp within an hour Warp time, though some of eddies could delay us in realspace by a day or so."
"Very well, I shall be there soon. My honor guard is assembled, then?" The very first members of the Varangia, all of them from the very first soldiers he had served alongside, had been outfitted within his ship. Truly impressive, considering the timetables and setbacks, but these first would be the foundation of what was to come, and so took to it with equal measure of pride and determination.
"Indeed, sir, and the implants are functioning as expected. Other than some minor issues with getting used to such a broad spectrum of information, there have been no other major issues when interfacing with the new gear."
The captain smiled. "Very good. Prepare to rally with the rest of the fleets, we will start heading for the planet as soon as our rendezvous is complete."
"Authorized codes received and decoded, sir. It's them."
"Excellent, establish communications as soon as we are within range of the fleet. Recall the others in the screen, any stragglers will have to regroup at a later time."
As far as flagships went, the Terra's Scion was becoming known as a fairly important one, or at least, to Admiral Gillmer, a very familiar one. It gleamed in the light of the distant stars, its newly furbished autoloading void batteries giving him a twinge of jealousy. Perhaps, after this campaign, he could have his own ship retrofitted by a local forge world that specialized in such work, maybe convince Solomon to put in a good word for him. All he'd then have to do is deal with whatever riotous voidcrew didn't like their jobs being taken away. Perhaps add more weapons systems for them to man?
The battle group surrounding the Rogue Trader, consisting of troop transports, cruisers, destroyers and a wide variety of other, harder-to-classify ships, was the largest he'd seen in some time. Nothing compared to the numbers that appeared with him above Cadia in the time of her defense, nor anything approach even a small Crusade, but it was nothing to downplay. Short of a major incursion by xenos or worse, this group should have no difficulty reclaiming the world that lied near the center of the system.
The only remaining world, anyway, according to the variety of information being shared across the fleet. Halfast Primus had once had a twin sister, Halfast Secundus, that invading orks had, for some reason, bypassed when they'd landed their invasion. Some believed they'd simply missed their intended target. After the first planet was lost, its sister world had been suddenly destroyed by an ork superweapon, a "giga-dakka gun" built from scavenged remnants of the first world's infrastructure and defenses. Remnant sensors indicated it had fired a gargantuan round that upon detonation caused the neighboring world to explode in a pyrotechnical display of undiluted power, and the only bright side was the self-termination of the ork superweapon upon firing that shot. Whether the weapon was still inactive remained to be seen.
A fallen forge world was always a great loss to the Imperium, no matter how large or small the world's influence, and seeing as the first world was still standing, there were likely relics and artifacts lost in the planet's crumbling infrastructure that the Mechanicum would be very keen on retrieving. Hence, the number of ships, with a small contingent of nearby Mechanicus forces tagging along for that exact reason.
The tech priest aboard his ship, Graimlyne, was coordinating the upcoming exploration and retrieval process with any other such members of his organization across the rest of the gathered fleet. Other organizations, such as the local Sororitas and guard regiments were doing much of the same. There was no word from Inquisitor Triggerus or his retinue, but their ship was amongst the great assembly, so it was inevitable that the Admiral would meet with him once again. Inquisitorial remnants were making themselves known everywhere they could, so long as they proved to be both loyal and competent.
As he gathered his own forces to begin the invasion, the first order of business was returning to meet with Captain Solomon. It had been years since they had seen each other, the long distances requiring Warp travel and just general assignments or needs of their own task forces preventing more regular discussions. The admiral liked to believe Solomon counted him as an ally in one of his inner circles, and while Deiad didn't quite feel the same way, he had as of yet no reason to not trust the good man.
Save for a rather… peculiar occurrence aboard his own ship. Namely, his sanctioned psyker, Krekka, when she bit Solomon. He'd never seen that behavior from her before, and truly, he'd thought he'd seen it all. The resulting coma-like period for the two of them, however brief it was, had lasted more than long enough for a variety of rumors to spread, many of which the admiral had done his best to quash. Yet, after both had awoken, and eventually returned to their duties, Krekka had not been the same.
She'd been far more… well, stable wasn't quite the word he'd have used, as most psykers were inherently unstable, from hearing whispers from the Warp all the time and having to deal with the extreme amounts of prejudice and hostility towards those with their abilities. No, now Krekka was more subdued, if anything. She was still more than capable with her tasks, even going so far as accomplishing minor details here or there that hadn't been required of her, but as for her personality, she was nowhere near as troublesome. Calm, polite, even serene at times, as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, or if the whispers of the Warp had been blocked from her mind somehow.
Whatever had happened, eventually, Deiad would have to ask Solomon about it, perhaps after the invasion had begun in earnest. Rumors of him being from another age were, to his knowledge, actual facts, but if his blood somehow had a stabilizing agent within it, one that could calm the minds of psykers, then such a potential resource would be best used for the good of the Imperium. Certainly, much more could be gleamed from his genetics, especially since he showed, as far as anyone knew, no signs of being psychically active at all. With the help of several Magos Biologis, there was no telling what cures, insights or discoveries could come with the study of Solomon on a genetic level.
Perhaps after the campaign for Halfast was complete, he would be broach the subject with the captain. Such an invasive yet potentially beneficial procedure could do wonders for all of mankind.
But, to the task at hand, navigating the asteroid field that had been Halfast Secundus. The honor of which ship was to take point had fallen to a Cobra destroyer squadron, scouting out ahead of the rest of the ships to look for signs of ork activity. The various adepts assigned to the task had tracked the rok from Othore to this system, so it stood reason to suspect there might be more roks out there.
Yet as they went on, the destroyer captains reported no signs of ork activity. No roks being built, no debris fields with ork scrap or parts, not even signs of former ork habitation on asteroids. Either such roks had already left the system, something that worried Deiad greatly, or all of the orks had only ever made it to one rok in the first place.
Sensors later affirmed his suspicions. Trails of chemicals long since cold showed a very large but very crude ork rokkit had taken off from the planet and smashed into a fragment of Halfast Secundus. It would seem that the greenskins had only found their way onto one planetoid chunk, but that had been more than enough to then ferry them into the Othore system. The debris field being scavenged there for Othore's own defense had born signs of other ship parts, so it was likely the orks had looted dead or stranded Imperium ships mid-journey. There were, sadly, far too many of those showing up in this region of space, sometimes entirely bereft of crew, or with the crew gone mad from the Rift's influence. Salvaging operations were often being held back by the still-superstitious crews being recruited to man them.
Thankfully, no such evidence of additional roks were evident, and as Halfast Primus and her abandoned moon came into view for the fleet, Deiad felt himself release a breath he hadn't realized he was still holding. A human world, fallen centuries ago to ork invaders, about to be reclaimed for the glory of the Manperor and his immortal designs for mankind's supremacy of the galaxy.
"Sir, scans from the destroyers of the planet coming in now," one his senior bridge crew said, their mechandrites pressing all sorts of buttons as data-feeds transmitted directly from the screening Cobras to the Starwatcher. "Relaying data to rest of fleet."
"Put it on screen," Deiad replied.
"Well, shit."
Solomon nodded. "Pretty spot on there, Prollarius. What do you make of it?"
The former Guardsmen, now Commissar-equivalent of the Rogue Trader's initial forces and up-and-coming general, with a specialization focused on orks, shook his head in disbelief. "The orks that launched off of the planet were only about half of them, or maybe all at the time. Their spores however, stayed behind on the world, and what would have been a very empty world a year ago or so, now has a fairly large number of greenskins roaming about its surface. Most seem rather tribal and primitive, but there are several warbosses showing up in the forge portions of the planet, with troops showcasing their more "advanced" technology, likely looted from manufactorum storage facilities and broken assembly lines."
"With any luck, much of the world will still be salvageable, given enough time to clean out as many ork spores as possible. We'll never be truly rid of them, true, but getting as much done between retaking the world and those spores popping out will be worth it." If he'd been here a year sooner, there'd be almost no orks to deal with, as they could have been immolated upon popping out of the ground, and the invasion would thus have been a readily costless mop-up. But, because of his injuries from the Mastuonus Coup causing a full year of delays, he was going to be dealing with a much tougher, much more prepared enemy.
It made him want to scream.
Maybe later, when alone in his quarters.
"The orks in some of the major centers have salvaged the orbital defense systems, what are left of them anyway," Prollarius continued. "Striking these central sites of former industrial might are going to be extremely difficult for the Mechanicus cohorts, seeing as many of the scavenged defense are of the anti-air and anti-voidcraft variety. Any assault on the world without grievous casualties will have to be done elsewhere, where ork numbers are still low and relatively feral. Should we wait too long, there will likely be another conglomeration of orks rising up into the stars on their own massive rokkit."
"So either we strike as fast as possible where they are least defended and numerous, slogging our way until the planet is retaken, or we wait for them to try and leave the planet, destroying them once they are in space, and retaking the world bereft of most orks. Time is not on our side in either case."
"Your orders, sir?"
"Normally I would put it to a vote with the rest of the fleet, but we were delayed a year as it was. The longer we delay, the more and stronger the orks will become. Put me in contact with the other captains."
Returning to his seat, Solomon sat in silent contemplation as communications were stabilized with the other assembled leaders, a variety of faces both known and new coming up on the wide array of vox monitors.
"Greetings must be cut short, but I thank you all for assembling as you have, as the first in a series of campaigns to secure this portion of the Imperium," Solomon said. "It is of utmost importance to realize that, for the foreseeable future, we are on our own, and any campaigns mounted must be done with the utmost care and haste, a paradoxical combination if ever, but vital in these times. None are required to take part in a campaign, especially if more pressing matters are closer, but those that do stand to be richly lauded and awarded."
He paused. "We don't have the vast resources of the more secure portions of the Imperium, Rift-side or not. We are in the heart of what was safe territory, normally far removed from vast interstellar conflicts. As such, we cannot throw resources away without there being a strategically sound and valuable reason to do so. Retaking three worlds that are cut off from the enemy is less important than seizing one world that could serve as a gateway into the heart of our territory. Halfast Primus is one of these such planets."
The holographic displays projected before him, clearly visible to the vox broadcast, was showcasing the position of the Halfast system in regards to the rest of the currently "claimed" Imperium star systems. "Halfast Primus sits on no major Warp channels of relative calm, nor is it an integral part or a line of defense, but it is near our center of operations, and carries with it a greenskin infestation. There has already been one known incursion from this region of space and will continue to be a threat to the interior lest we seize the world and establish as much control over it as we can. Short of burning the planet to near bedrock with flamers and plasma or commencing orbital bombardment across the entire surface, the orks will always come back, as they will on any planet they make landfall upon."
He paused as he let the others mull this over. Most such leaders needed to know such information about the enemy, and indeed, many did, but there were always some out there that needed a quick refresher on what orks were and how to deal with them.
With a motion from Solomon, the bridge communications officer pressed several buttons, changing the display to an overview of just Halfast Primus and its moon. "Ways to permanently deal with more feral orks are being developed as we speak, but the amounts needed to fully cleanse a planet will take a considerable time to produce. As for now, we shall need to make a two-pronged assault for the planet. The primary assault with be Halfast itself, to secure this staging zone."
One of the smaller continents, rife with the remains of orbital spires surrounded by landscapes of storage facilities and transit lanes, was highlighted on the display. "Scans indicate the least amount of ork activity and presence in this region. With it secured, work can begin on the orbital spires, as they were apparently the primary means of ferrying materials off world and supplies onto the ground. The transit lane networks distributed much of this all over the planet, but with so many damaged or outright destroyed, restoring the means of moving supplies on and off world will take precedence over moving it across the planet itself until much later."
Several more buttons were pressed, and the hologram highlighted the moon. "Abandoned during the initial ork invasion, this moon would have become a forge world itself if it had an atmosphere, breathable or not, and any notable mineral wealth. As far as the Halfast founders were concerned, it has neither, so it was barely developed beyond a few mining platforms and determined to be too costly to defend and far too unimportant to spare resources to."
He shook his head. "A grave mistake on their part. Deep scans show a high amount of cinisite from ancient extinct volcanoes, as well as large deposits of harenaetite along what must have been ancient seas long since dried up from the loss of a magnetic field and atmosphere. By themselves, and with the amounts normally available elsewhere, these indeed would be worthless. However, with the Imperium's major sources of these minerals lost to us, these will be vital to our continued campaigns."
"Cinisite is an important component of rockcrete and other building materials, greatly increasing its durability and overall strength at the expense of very little added material," one of the Rogue Traders mentioned, their vox humming just slightly from minor interference. "It is primarily found on extinct volcanoes on airless moons where the lack of atmosphere prevents the material from compressing too much, leaving it far easier to be mined." Such worlds were not very rare, by chance, but the easiest ones to mine were usually mined to Warp and back. Why this one had not been, none truly knew.
Solomon nodded. "Meanwhile, harenaetite is a highly useful base substance for the creation of ceramite and constructions using the material. From carapace armor to voidship construction, it has a wide range of uses and will be undoubtedly integral into the next phases of securing these borders and our eventual expansion."
"Who shall have the claim to this suddenly found resource?" another captain asked.
Solomon was silent for a few moments. Declaring that any one entity or person have access to this would undoubtedly cause grievances with others, but he couldn't just up and say that he would take ownership. Others might think he was overstepping his bounds, or to some, starting a process of claiming his own empire.
Then, an idea came to him. "The moon itself shall be a supply to all who can make the trip to retrieve the materials mined there," he said. "Those who draw in for a shipment must, through an intermediary or in person, retrieve it for their own needs and uses, be it trade, personal retrofitting of forces, or infrastructure development on newly colonized worlds. However, a good portion should then go directly to the Mechanicus once the world is ours again."
"Why is that, Captain Solomon?" Admiral Gillmer asked.
"Seeing as Halfast Primus was once a forge world, and will be once more after its reclamation, it stands to reason they shall be the first in line to receive and process these raw materials into whatever they can. The records show that the world was once a minor source of flak armor and infantry vox hailers, both of which will be integral in supplying to our expanding roster of armed forces. With such an important component literally in orbit above the planet, as well as whatever else might be mined from the remnants of her deceased twin planet, Halfast could also become a major source of ceramite for our expansion forces, as well as rockcrete for our defensive lines."
"Preliminary scans show that there may be enough cinisite to build the central hulls of no less than an entire sector's worth of ships," one of the Mechanicus captain replied in a buzzing note of excitement. "That is, to say, if tried and true designs are used instead of the newer ones that have been provided."
"I would wager we'd be able to build almost three times that many ships with what the good captain has provided," another captain added, rather pointedly too. "Other materials would be needed to supplement these, so as to not run this source dry, but the fact that such a bounty of material wealth has not been exploited is… disconcerting."
Before the two could start to bicker on new versus old, as they often seemed to do, Admiral Gillmer piped up. "My tech priest Graimlyne has told me the scans of what we've found so far could provide enough ceramite to create carapace armor for an entire guardsmen regiment every year for the next three centuries."
"Yet there is likely more than we realize, so in turn, we could outfit almost every regiment in our region with carapace armor, or something equivalent," Solomon said, knowing full well he had a few armor designs from Syngra on the back burner that would definitely need ceramite in their construction.
"What of the remains of Halfast Secundus?"
"Much of the same. Each according to their needs, though greater access will be the privilege of the closest systems, as well as Halfast Primus itself once it is in our hands. There are enough resources from the world to begin building a large, self-sufficient shipyard within the system."
The first Mechanicus captain spoke again. "As it is, however, that brings us to another matter. What are we to call this region of space? Simply declaring we are one subsector over another is going to be difficult, with how utterly skewed many of the outlined borders have become. One subsector's capital world may be within our relative zone of control, but then the vast majority of it is cut off by warp storms and other phenomena. Conversely, we have reports of subsectors wholly in our reach, but the capital is not, rendering moot naming it after something we have no contact with."
"Showing favoritism for one subsector or even sector is going to get us nowhere and create endless bickering and posturing when we are supposed to be united," Admiral Gillmer said. "We have been granted opportunities to create a safe haven for mankind in the name of the Manperor when we have been all but cut off from his light, as well as that of the Astronomicon. Any name we give ourselves shall hopefully only be a temporary one, as we have no idea how long the Rift will last, nor how long it will take for aid to reach us."
"We are on our own, a lone island of calm in a sea of danger and disorder," Solomon replied. "A segmentum we shall be, all our own, if only to create a greater sense of unity within a region so formerly as safe as one could be. We will be a shield for mankind, a rock upon which the Imperium may still stand on this side of the Rift. A bastion for the future of our kind, and for the good of all we hold dear."
"Segmentum Bastionus," Admiral Gillmer said. "From now, until it is no longer needed. This is the name we shall call our region of space, the fortress that will protect us all from the terrors of the dark."
"Segmentum Bastionus it is," the two Mechanicum captains agreed, in harmonious synchronization.
Many other captains, generals and admirals agreed, citing precedents others had not heard of before. If others disagreed with the name, they said nothing, though he had no doubt such disagreements would be brought up in the future. Naming conventions were normally as volatile as political elections on more democratic worlds, the lack of such bickering this time was surprising.
"There shall be a time to hammer out the details in the future," Solomon said, as the sounds of the others died down. A central defensive perimeter or primary system, static and mobile defenses, trading agreements, plus much more would need to be decided upon. "For now, we must reclaim this system from these orks, and to do so, the two pronged assault will begin as such."
The smallest continent was highlighted once more, and as tactical readouts were beamed between the vast conglomerations of ships, he continued. "We will be landing as many troops as quickly as we can around the base of each orbital spire. Whichever ones can be determined to be salvageable and thus able to be used as soon as possible will have more forces shifted to secure and defend them after the first waves have landed. Once the spires have been repaired and the necessary supplies can be ferried onto the surface en masse, we will move towards securing the continent itself. Total ork numbers are unknown, but initial scans put us on a timetable of roughly one year to fully reclaim the first continent, assuming no astartes show up to assist us, or the orks mount a massed push towards one front."
"Last I heard, many astartes were still in the process of recruiting to replenish lost numbers, or growing back up to greater strength. There is no telling how long it will take for them to arrive in force, but any astartes assistance will be incredibly valuable to meet our objectives," Admiral Gillmer said.
Very true. Not long ago, a message had been sent from Terra that chapters begin building to legion strength once again. There were very few chapters trapped within the now-named Segmentum Bastionus, and many that were had been severely depleted by other conflicts or ships being lost in the Warp, or scattered elsewhere in the galaxy. Their precious geneseed was too valuable to be lost in campaigns where their numbers were few enough to be dangerous for their continued survival as a chapter, so many of the messages sent out by Solomon asking for aid had been politely declined.
No matter. Soon enough there'd be space marine recruiting worlds and chapter keeps across this new Segmentum, and hopefully their aid would be provided sooner than later. An army of guardsmen could take a planet, but even a chapter of space marines could likely take ten planets in near the same amount of time. What a legion could do, nobody knew these days, for even the old stories were likely twisted remnants of what must have been an awe inspiring sight.
Solomon continued. "As it stands, the other phase will be the securing of the moon. There may be dangers on it that sensors don't pick up, so void-suits will be required until habs can be built to house the miners that will be working the planet's minerals. Only a light amount of troops will be required for this, but what we will require in numbers will be settlers."
"Whara IV is next on the rotation for a shipment of colonists," one of the captains, a fellow rogue trader if Solomon remembered correctly. "It would take them a few months to get here, but by then the hab block units should be fully built and sealed."
"See to it that word is sent to whatever fleet can pick them up, we'll need a good fifty thousand at least to increase our initial mining output past whatever we could at this state, on top of however many tens of thousands we will need to resettle the world and begin rebuilding and working the manufactorums," Admiral Gillmer added. "No sense in wasting good soldiers for mining those ores when they could be killing orks and retaking a forge world."
"Then it is set. Colonization for the mining of Halfast's moon, with the construction for the hab blocks to begin as soon as optimal sights are identified. Invasion of Halfast Primus, to begin as soon as possible. Twenty four hours should be more than enough time for the first and second waves to be assembled, unless there are any objections?"
Most of the muttering across the voxcasts ceased.
Solomon nodded. "Then without delay, assemble your troops, and prepare for war!"
Dawn broke over the hazy remnants of the skybreaker elevators of Halfast Primus. Great spires of ferrocrete and rockcrete stretching up from central distribution hubs, like the trunks of massive trees with roots spreading in all directions, many with landing pads and small hab blocks jutting from their sides at differing elevations. Plascrete and plasteel construction blended with the ground-level remnants of hab blocks for residents, twisted and blackened from being attacked and abandoned long ago, some ripped apart by explosions, while other remained as twisted caricatures from the fires that had wracked their forms.
It was a mostly quiet place, like the tomb of forgotten people. Which, is essence, it was, as most denizens had died or been evacuated during the twilight hours of the ork invasion. As a forge world, much of the soil was so covered by metal and detritus that whatever orks lived in the area were migrants from other areas, looking for good fights. Even with the vast amounts of materials left behind, many of the boyz that had popped up from whatever dirt their spores could find purchase in were often separated from one another by great distances. Whatever small tribes formed together tended to stick close to the base of these great spires, living in ramshackle huts they built out of whatever scrap they could scrounge. Their orkish biology had already began to create their own orkish environments, with different-sized squigs and diminutive gretchins milling about here or there amidst small fields of mushrooms.
With dawn came the sounds of great barrages of missiles and bombs, pulverizing orks and their fungi ecosystem as they went about their duties in bright bursts of explosive flame. A few escaped the initial onslaught, suddenly roused to excitement at the prospect of a fight, but these were quickly killed as well by another volley of missiles. Another followed, these bathing the areas in cruel flames that belched thick black smoke, rising high into the sky as everything burned within the destroyed areas.
The landing craft followed the assault shuttles to hese burned-out landing zones, the latter unloading their cargo as fast as they could. Crimson mechs of the Thunderblitz class, with a large monomolecular power sword in one hand and a Calamity lascannon in the other, each led squads of guardsmen into the areas at the base of one spire, many of them already beginning the process of setting up defensive lines with entrenching tools and whatever rockcrete mixtures they had brought with them. From one of the assault shuttles, flanked by a pair of Thunderblitz mechs, Solomon deployed his own Marionetta, with him still secreted away high up in his flagship.
This was a large testbed for a variety of new things, ranging from weapons to gear and even vehicles, but it was also an unknown in terms of enemy numbers and terrain. He'd land down on the planet only after this base of operations had been secured. No sense in repeating Woebus any time soon.
His Marionetta moved out of the way of a larger transport shuttle, whose doors eventually opened to reveal one of his newest contributions to mankind's war for survival. The Striker, a tank built almost entirely from the ground up when compared to the likes of the Baneblade. With thick and sloped directional armor on all sides and an auto-loading main cannon turret, it wasn't a far cry from current designs, but did away with some of what Solomon saw as design flaws.
These tanks were not of the stock variety, as that would likely never see battle, given how stripped-down they were. The modules built into the tank's design allowed for weapons to swap out with relative ease, making them capable of adapting to changing situations on the battlefield, or easy change during lulls in a conflict. As it was, this was of the Draka classification. The main barrel was reduced in length, as well as having three rotating barrels instead of just the one. The ammunition complements specifically designated for canister and modified chemical rounds containing chlorine trifluoride, the latter literally bursting anything it hit into gouts of terrible flame that burned hot enough to combust rockcrete. With four remotely-accessed bolter turret emplacements jutting from the main body, as well as three heavy-duty flamethrowers, this designation was made for close combat scenarios, and in such an urban setting as this one, ideal for dealing with enemies that liked to get rather close and personal, such as orks.
Large enough to operate with a crew of ten, but able to whittle that down to five if hard pressed, it made up for this increased size with redundant systems built into every nook and cranny, extra armor, supply storage, and areas to eat and even sleep if necessary. Tankers could live in their tanks for days on end if the situation were dire enough to require it, a feature Solomon hoped to improve on.
This would be the first field tests of the Draka in an actual combat zone. There was no telling how well they would fare, but Syngra had been confident that these Caloris-forged machines of war would do splendidly on their virgin trials. Solomon only hoped that whatever mistakes had been made in their design would not result in catastrophic losses.
After the pair of Draka per shuttle rolled out and began to move down whatever roads and skyways that were still intact, their support came in the forms of numerous platoons of infantry, many readying themselves with power tools and explosive to clear rubble for the advancing armor. Behind these came the Deliverance transports, many of their escorts already loaded up inside, all going off in their own directions to increase the secured landing zones. Sitting taller than the tanks, these vehicles replaced treads for armored wheels, which the vehicle was mostly built around, in order to increase interior space and decrease the regions of vulnerability around its main propulsion sources.
The Deliverance was a key to a battlefield where legging it was as slow going as could be, while also not being set in one role that became useless during a particular exchange with the enemy. Due to a modular design similar to the Striker tanks, it too could be outfitted with a variety of weapons and configurations, though the modularity far surpassed the aforementioned tanks. In fact, it could have so many uses, designations had become a moot point to Solomon and his design teams.
With its large-capacity power generator, it could mount a large number of las weaponry, from lasguns to lascannons. Or those could be swapped out with bolters, which, thanks to its large interior, could hold large amounts of ammunition for such weapons. Flamethrowers could be mounted instead to sweep streets of enemies, or mounted with missile pods to strike unwary enemy aircraft from concealed positions. The weapons could be replaced with sensory equipment, turning the vehicles into mobile command posts, spotters for artillery strikes, and even scout craft, or used to scramble or intercept enemy communication. Just as well, due to their inherently fast nature, they could deliver multiple squads to vital chokepoints or flanking positions at far greater speed than the soldiers could run, or remove injured troops from the battlefield and bring them to safety behind friendly lines.
In short, the Deliverance was a jack-of-all-trades vehicle. Whatever you needed it to do, it could do it well. Not as greatly as others specifically designed for such a purpose, such as artillery or tanks or dedicated command posts, but it was much cheaper to build, much easier to retrofit, and its flexibility meant it had a leg up on enemies that either had a particular way of waging war, or did not tend to change tactics very often.
Solomon's puppet moved away from the main staging areas, off to where another section of shuttles had landed. These bore the markings of his and Syngra's combined efforts to recreate things he could remember without dooming them all to the mistakes of the past.
Out of the shuttles, eerily uniform in their precise movements, were the very first batch of the Praelior Corps. Any random adept might mistake them for simple servitors, and in essence, they were, controlled through the transmissions from Solomon's puppet. Flash-cloned sacks of meat served as the template, many of them from people long since dead but sentenced to spiritually serve the Imperium forever in their repugnant modified copies. They had no thoughts nor will that Syngra did not want them to have, and depended entirely upon the biological pre-programmed sets of skills and enhancements provided for them.
That was where such similarities ended. These were uniform in their design and shape, resembling a human with steely grey armor plating fused to where skin would be, creating blocky and angular limbs that parodied the size and overall shape of a normal human's. Their limbs ended with both grasping digits and, if need be, extensions where larger weapons could be mounted. There were no elevated heads, these being recessed into the chest cavity, giving the shoulders a level surface from which extended a series of data collection and transmitting sensors, the strength of which was necessary given how far underground some might have to operate in the future.
Every servitor carried a modified lasgun, or a "Solomon-Pattern" as many were beginning to call them. Solomon suspected Syngra might have been behind that particular naming convention. These synthoids had no sidearms, as they would likely be destroyed long before they needed them, but the retractable adamantium blades in their forearms served as a potent, if albeit slightly expensive, secondary means of attack. Most also carried a smaller version of a slab shield, as the Praelior didn't need to aim down the sights to know its weapon would hit the target, with the targeting algorithms doing all the work, thus freeing up the other "hand" for what little defensive measure it needed.
Much like the Imperium at large, these troops were led by those who were wise to their means and construction, in this case, the growing Mechanicus forces working with Solomon. However, these "overseers" did not fight from the front. They too were in command of their own Marionetta puppets, leading squads of Praelior through areas too unpredictable or hazardous to waste human lives on, able to directly transmit their datafeeds to their cohorts, and receive reciprocal data in the same manner. Other operators were working in squads of just Marionetta, heavily armed and unafraid of any enemy they might come across, as the operator would not die unless subjected to a very precise and unlikely sort of attack.
Many of these troops, with their servitor-style puppets being much more robustly built than a Praelior, consequently carried much heavier armament. They had no shields, but being operated by a coherently living being meant they could actually take advantage of tactics, like terrain, cover, and ingenuity. Due to the nature of the enemy in the area, all of the puppets carried a monomolecular sword as their secondary weapon, though their primary was by far much, much worse. CLFFF guns, meant to burn out and eradicate every last ork and spore in the area, with ranges running into the triple digit meters on certain settings. Highly corrosive, combustible on almost anything, requiring no oxygen to burn, and with their holding tanks able to hold enough of the stuff to put out streams of fire for minutes at a time, these troops would likely soon earn their nicknames well and truly.
Hellspitters.
Through his puppet's audio receptors, Solomon could already hear the screams of burning tribal orks in the distance, that despite the incredible toughness of their alien physiques, their flesh was literally exploding upon contact with the chlorine tetrafluoride, flash boiling and reacting with the liquids inside, releasing clouds of super-heated acids in the process. They might have been extremely tough, but Solomon doubted most orks could withstand temperatures twice that of liquid magma. There would be no mercy for orks of any kind, for their very nature was abhorrent to the concept of it, and as such, only the most abhorrent of weapons could be used freely against them.
Solomon only hoped he would only ever have to use these against orks. Dark Eldar too, if it ever came to that again.
From across the fleet came multitudes of shuttles, many either filled to the brim with mining servitors or void-trained servicemen. Behind these came large barges, some bearing building or mining tools, others mining explosives, yet others still with hab block foundations or prefab units. These would be the foundation for the very first inhabited structures until the great domes could be finished years from now.
So it was that, as they landed, the very first soldiers landed around the remnants of whatever mining platforms and equipment that remained. The lack of an atmosphere helped preserve them, preventing rust and corrosion, but did nothing to protect them from whatever meteorite impacts that had come from the explosion of Halfast Secundus.
Craters pocket marked the moon like the burrow entrances of a particularly troublesome vermin, spreading near as far as the eye could see. Some were utterly massive, kilometers across, the thinnest layer of dust the evidence the debris had drifted back down onto the moon.
As the barges landed and began to unload the cargo, the soldiers continued their exploration and securing of leftover resources, and the servitors headed in the direction of the abandoned mining tunnels, to begin work as soon as possible.
Author's note: well, this took a lot longer than I anticipated, but only because it's the beginning of a new arc within the story. The first full-fledged, planned out planetary assault, as well as a catalyst for later occurrences! As it is, I've changed employment, and my current one allows for much, much more writing time, which I am taking advantage of every single day. So, expect more frequent updates, though not too much, as I also have numerous other projects in the works, including numerous side stories to this one (to be published on my Deviantart), the continuation of other works of mine, and even a foray into writing my own original fiction.
As always, if I missed anything, or you have questions, or ideas, or concerns, drop me a PM or a chapter review, and I'll get to you as soon as possible.
On the last note, as you can see, this region of space is now the Segmentum Bastionus, courtesy of an overwhelming show of support from the poll on my user page! Many thanks to all those who cast their votes, and to those who hadn't voted, the poll has been taken down. Sorry!