Speculum Enigmate Chapter 35
The first they knew of the attack was the impact of an artillery shell on the void shield. It exploded in a brilliant fireball, spreading flames up into the sky. Where it impacted the sky rippled like a disturbed pond, spreading distortions describing a protective dome over the Jade Citadel. Arcane sciences shunted the destructive force harmlessly away and nobody was hurt by the first shell but it sent waves of panic through the motley assortment of humans fearfully clinging to their guns. It didn't help that a moment later another shell impacted, and another and another, a rhythmic barrage that hammered on the citadel like a drum.
Persion gave it only a second's glance as he voxed, "It has begun."
Over the vox waves Marshal Gunnah's monotone drawled, "Idiots, wasting shells pointlessly. That void shield would hold off an orbital bombardment."
Persion muttered, "They're not trying to break it, merely scare us."
"Then it's working," Gunnah muttered, "These wastrels are pissing themselves."
Persion agreed, the crowds of mortals manning the gun blisters looked like they would run away at any moment. The Governor's own guards and the PDF and Fysk's thugs. Persion had distributed their meagre forces throughout the defensive emplacements, adding hundreds of small arms to the heavy weapons stationed throughout. The civilians they had dragged along he had tasked with running water and ammunition to the defenders. He hadn't trusted them to shoot straight so they could fetch and carry, that was all they were good for.
Persion had been busy in the last two hours, he had quickly surveyed the defences and judged them to be surprisingly adequate. Despite its beautiful aesthetic the builders of this place hadn't been totally incompetent. The Imperial-issued void shield rendered the Citadel immune to artillery, aerial bombing, missiles and orbital strikes and the outer wall was strong and reinforced against attack. Only a concentrated barrage of heavy firepower could bring that down. The internal structure beyond was cunningly designed, if the wall was breached the passages and corridors would funnel any invader into one of four internal courtyards, where a defender could make a stand. Persion would have liked to have some Macroweaponry, turbolasers or Plasma Annihaltors would make a real difference, but he might as well wish for a Battlebarge. He would have to make do with what he had.
His vox-bead crackled again and Lieutenant Cibbons called, "Sir, should I bring up the tanks?"
"Negative," Persion voxed, "Hold your Punisher and the two Repulsors in reserve. When this wall falls you will have to deploy to hold the inner courtyards."
Cibbons gulped, "You think it will fall?"
"You think it won't?" Persion scoffed, "This is going to get close and bloody before we spring our trap."
Cibbons fell silent but Gunnah muttered, "I should be out there with you, not babysitting a little girl."
"I need you where you are," Persion rebuffed him, "That girl has put some fire into the wastrels but she has no experience running a siege. I need you to stay in the command bunker and keep things in order. You're far more use organising a proper chain of command than swinging a mace."
It was true, Otlie had done her best to coordinate the defenders but her inexperience was glaring and Pascum's established protocols were archaic. Persion had hastily reorganised the Citadel's chain of command, putting a single man in charge of each quadrant of the wall and laying down a clear line of succession should they die. The rulers of this world had established a weighty and ponderous authority, judging that lower officers couldn't be trusted to make decisions. Against howling protests Persion had chucked that out, telling the cowering mortals that battle was a fluid environment, liable to change faster than a lone commander could process. The man on the spot had to have the authority to make instant decisions, sure and certain that his superiors would back him up and support him when called for.
The Arbites and Space Marines were to act as a flying reserve, meeting the assault where it would hit hardest. Persion knew the coming assault would be ferocious, the Genestealers would have to throw everything they had at these walls to break them open. It didn't help that the fighting in the city was spluttering out, the dregs of the PDF wilting at last. Persion had been skimming their vox channels and it seemed the traitors in their ranks had won the day. The resisting loyalist units had been crushed, isolated or were inside the Citadel. The rest belonged to the Traitors, adding their power to the Genestealer's and united they would crush the last bastion of Imperial Resistance. Persion was counting on it, his trap depended on it.
He was standing on the north wall, looking out over the gate and the plaza beyond. Persion instinctively knew the hammer would fall hardest against this spot. The symbolic value of this position would make it irresistible, which was why he and five Intercessors waited to engage. The Monument to Reunification cast a long shadow over the space, promising utter destruction when it toppled. But Persion had to draw out enough enemies to make it count. He would hold the wall as long as he could, falling back when overwhelmed until Yones sprang the trap. Persion had one last trump card: starfire. The Thunderhawk was circling high above the city, avoiding sporadic lighting fighters that sought to drive it off. If all else should fail he would call in an airstrike, but he really didn't want to do that.
"Movement!" a gunner yelled as he pointed his Lascannon down.
"Hold," Persion snapped, "Don't waste your shots, wait for them to reveal themselves."
He leaned over the parapet as the Intercessors pointed their long bolt rifles at the distant ground. Even at this distance their accuracy would be lethal. Far below the buildings surrounding the plaza filled with furtive movement, then suddenly they exploded with racing bodies. From broken windows and burned out doorways Hybrids emerged in their hundreds, racing forward with quick-paced fleetness of foot. They carried lascarbines and shotguns, perfect assault weapons and many bore grappling hooks at their belts.
"Open fire!" Persion heard Major Trennan, commander of the north quadrant, bellow and the gun blisters unleashed hell. Heavy bolters stuttered as they spat long streams of fire, carving bloody furrows through the racing crowd. Autocannons spat fat shells and missile launchers ejected frag rockets that detonated over their heads, spraying shrapnel everywhere. Small-arms added their fury, lasrifles and slug throwers laying down barrages of firepower that cut down hundreds of attackers. Persion heard bolt rifles barking, each shot a sure kill, as the Intercessors added their wroth.
The Hybrids were hit by the first salvo and hundreds of them were decimated. Torn bodies fell in piles and not one made it to the base of the wall. The cunning design of the walls was to the defender's advantage, funnelling the Genestealers into packed mobs. They were forced to divert around the arrowhead formations covering the gate, caught in a lethal crossfire and it was almost impossible to miss a foe.
Desperate men clung to hammering guns, sweeping their fire back and forth as they prayed they were doing enough. The thunder of guns was added to the screams of the fallen and all the while hammering artillery smote the void shield. The noise and the smell of blood and viscera created a claustrophobic hell of death and destruction. Many men retched at the sight, unaccustomed to the slaughter. Surprisingly Fysk's criminals did not, they at least were used to the sight of blood and guts on the street.
"We're slaughtering them!" came the vox-cry of Otlie Bassail from the central command bunker.
Yet Persion voxed back, "Never underestimate your enemy. This is merely to soften us up. They are spending the lives of their kin to distract us while their real offensive makes ready."
The slaughter would have broken the courage of any man. But the Hybrids were compelled to advance by their Broodmind, their lives forfeit to buy their kin time to set up the true attack. Sure enough from the buildings further back came a flash of light, followed by a dozen lascannon beams. Coherent light smote the outer wall, cracking open gun-blisters and spilling bodies to the ground far below. Persion snarled in frustration, the native rulers had allowed the civilian populace to build far too close to the walls and now he was paying for it. He turned to the lascannon team next to him and snarled, "Target those emplacements and annihilate them."
Hastily the defenders retargeted their weapons and returned fire. Brilliant beams of light shot back and forth as defenders and attackers traded shots, carving the walls with deep furrows and shattering buildings to rubble. Shot after shot went back and forth but the moment of distraction cost the defenders dearly. Persion spied a dark furrow ripple through the surging attackers, still trying to reach the walls, and he spied the chitinous forms of Purestrains galloping forward.
"Brothers, kill the aliens!" he roared and the Intercessors swung their rifles to target them. A flurry of bolt rounds cut apart a handful but three of them reached the wall and flung themselves up it. They scaled it without grapples or ropes, their claws sinking deep and their movements spider-like. They practically ran up the wall and began tearing into the lowest gun-blister, ripping the ferrocrete apart like wet paper.
Persion donned his helm and drew his Friction Axe as he roared, "With me Brothers!"
As he raced down a staircase Otlie voxed, "The assault from the north is too strong, I'm pulling men off the south wall to reinforce you."
"Negative," Persion snapped, "This may be feint to weaken our defences elsewhere."
"But…" Otlie protested.
"Keep them where they are!" Persion snapped, "We'll handle this."
Persion flew down the stairs, racing to the violated post. The walls blurred past then suddenly he was there, only to find a slaughterhouse. Dead men lay strewn over a Heavy bolter, their forms reduced to gory shreds. But Persion had no time to mourn for suddenly a Genestealer was in his face. He had a brief glimpse of claws and fangs then a mad flurry of rending slashes cleaved his breastplate.
Persion flung himself backwards to avoid a killing strike and saw the black-eyed monster leap at him, jaws wide open to reveal yellowing fangs. He forced himself to pivot, meeting a taloned hand with his pauldron. Deep grooves were torn into his armour as the creature hissed in triumph. Persion however smote its torso with a solid punch, throwing it back to gain some space to swing his axe. The Genestealer fell but it instantly flipped over, moving like a spider as it threw itself at him again, mouth wide open and sharp tongue lashing in his face as its talons stabbed for his chest.
Persion cried out as a talon pierced his left flank, where the weaker armour repair paste covered the Ceramite. He felt his blood blow as his body was violated but his pain was drowned out by a surge of righteous anger. This vile alien was a travesty, its form offensive to his eye. It sullied one of the Emperor's worlds with its vile presence and dared to pollute the purity of the human form with its tainted genome. Righteous revulsion and sacred hatred filled Persion and drove his left arm to flash out and grab the Genestealer's tongue.
The Purestrain's eyes' widened in shock as its tongue was snared. It tried to pull back but was helpless to resist as Persion heaved downwards, yanking its head forward to expose the neck. His Friction Axe rose high then fell, cleaving the head from its body. The Purestrain collapsed, missing its skull and Persion tossed the repugnant head out of the gaping hole in the wall. Then he turned to see how the others were faring.
One Genestealer was down, its body pierced by three sets of knives. The other was battling two Intercessors, fighting combat knives with talons and fangs. Before Persion could intervene it drove its talons into the gut of a Primaris Marine, Brother Tanath, letting blood flow freely. The Marine should have staggered and were he Astartes he would have, but he was Primaris and had advantages all his own. Tanath screamed as a surge of aggression-boosters and hyper-stimulants hit his bloodstream, his veins burning hot with the gifts of Belisarius Cawl. He threw himself at the Purestrain in a charge like the impact of a freight train. His knife stabbed and tore as he screamed his outrage, slicing it to pieces as he threw the bleeding corpse back out the hole it had come through.
Persion saw the danger instantly and leapt forward, hand flashing out to grab Tanath's pauldron. The Primaris had raced mindlessly to the hole and thrown the bleeding corpse out but in his mad rush nearly toppled himself. The adrenal surge of the implant was potent but it cost the user control, leaving them a mindless berserker for a brief period of time. Persion caught Tanath at the last instant and heaved him back inside, dragging the Primaris away from a fatal drop.
Tanath was still in the throes of his madness and tried to stab Persion in his frenzy. Yet Persion blocked the arm with his right then his left fist struck Tanath across the faceplate as he barked, "Compose yourself!"
Tanath stepped back in confusion, shaking violently as his Magnificat organ sought to stabilise his mind, and spluttered, "My apologies Brother-Lieutenant. The Furnace… it burns hot."
Persion patted him on the pauldron then turned to the others and ordered, "Secure this position."
The Intercessors raced to cover the hole but Persion voxed, "Command; gun-blister 117 secured. I need a replacement crew to man this position."
"Understood," Otlie voxed back, "Reserves are on their way."
Persion looked out the hole and saw the battle raging. The seething mass of foes had doubled during their brief fight and were pressing up against the walls. Scything flurries of firepower from the arrowhead formations cut down many, only to see them replaced by thrice the number of fallen. Meanwhile heavy weapons traded firepower in barrages of ordnance, shells and lasfire destroying all they touched. The Genestealers were paying in blood for every metre they advanced but they were advancing and they had the numbers to carry the day. Persion took up his bolt pistol and added his shots to the Intercessor's but as he did so his eyes lifted to the Momument to Reunification and he muttered, "You better be in position Yones. We aren't going to hold much longer."
