Speculum Enigmate Chapter 40
With a terrible roar the horde charged into the breach. Hundreds of Hybrids in various states of disfigurement, some almost human in appearance others hunch-back monstrosities, blending Genestealer, human and animal into a hideous amalgam. Among their number Purestrains loped like great predators, their eyes cold and their maws hungry for warm flesh and hot blood. They ran over broken rubble and shattered stone, climbing into the sundered defences in a mad rush. They were united by their urge to conquer and confident that the battle was all but won. They could taste victory.
Against them stood one Space Marine, all alone. Persion faces down a horde of monsters with nothing but a pistol and an axe. He saw the oncoming foe and knew he could not defeat this enemy by himself. There was no doubt he would fall to their claws and fangs but he refused to flee. Persion may be a rule-breaker but he was Astartes to the core. Defiance and stubbornness were hammered into his soul and he would not relent. He was not prone to grandstanding or philosophising but given the choice between dying on his feet with a weapon in hand or dying on his knees, there was no choice at all.
Persion planted his feet in the rubble and drew back his arm. The horde was rising the slope, rushing at him in a wave of chitin and filthy skin. Enfilading fire still fell from the defensive bastions to either side, but not enough, not nearly enough. The Genestealers flooded into the breach in a tidal surge and nothing could deny them. Persion saw they would rush him, taking him down with ease. He steeled his soul for the end and silently thanked his wargear for its leal service, then he glanced at his axe and muttered, "Noble axe, let us see how many we can take down with us."
The horde was moments away from crashing into him. Persion could see their black eyes and sneering grins of contempt. They raced at him with no thought for anything but the kill, eager to taste his flesh. Yet Persion's eyes lifted over them and he gazed upwards, seeing the most miraculous sight he had ever beheld. From the sky dropped a cruciform shape, diving vertically from on high towards the breach. It was a blunt-nosed slab of a craft, its wings laden with ordnance and a mighty Turbolaser was laid along its spine. It was Starfire and the Thunderhawk was on an attack run.
Persion didn't even have time to open his vox before the gunship fired. Rippling flashes sparked along its wings as a flurry of Hellfire missiles broke free, hurtling earthwards on smoking contrails of exhaust. A second later they struck just outside the void shield envelope, bathing the lower end of the breach in searing flames. An inferno of heat and light engulfed the heart of the horde, cooking the Genestealers alive. Their flesh was set on fire as their chitin hides were violated. They screamed and tore at their burning flesh as they fell, roasting alive as the firestorm swept over them. The first wave of the horde was decimated, forcing those behind to step back from the destruction.
Persion's hearts soared at the magnificent sight, a reprieve snatched from the jaws of defeat. He saw Starfire pulling out of her attack run, the belly of the gunship clearing the wall by mere metres. She swooped over the horde and ran for the horizon, chased by missiles launched from Hybrid teams lurking in the surrounding buildings. One missile clipped her flank and the gunship wobbled but it was only a glancing blow and the Thunderhawk righted as she flew away, leaving devastation behind. Perion finally found the vox-channel and called, "A righteous kill Brothers!"
The retreating pilots voxed, "Hold fast Brother-Lieutenant, we'll loop about and come at them again."
"Watch that ground fire," Persion voxed, "But still, you have my thanks."
"What?" another voice cut in, "No thanks for us?"
Persion's head snapped about and he saw Sergeant Zeax descending the breach, skidding down the loose scree in a shower of dust. With him came his seven surviving Devastators, doing a fine job keeping their Heavy Bolters clear of debris. Behind them came five intercessors, striding down the slope with confident gaits. Persion had never been more glad to see his Brothers and called, "You are a welcome sight."
"Couldn't let you hog all the glory," Zeax scoffed, "I want some victory laurels when this is done."
"There will be plenty to go around," Persion reassured him, "Here they come again."
In the breach the fires were dying out, smothered by dead bodies. Piles of crisped corpses lay strewn everywhere, clinging to each other in a macabre display of death. Yet beyond them the horde pressed forward, numerous beyond the paltry few killed in the first wave. They barrelled over their scorched dead without pause, their Broodmind squashing all trace of fear or grief. Only the urge to kill filled their minds and they ran for the breach, heedless of their losses.
"Present arms!" Persion cried and every Brother levelled their guns into the oncoming horde.
"Hold, till you see the black of their eyes," Zeax snarled as he hefted his Thunder Hammer.
"Hold, hold," Persion ordered, "Now, open fire!"
As one the Storm Heralds let rip, blasting into the closing horde. Four Heavy Bolters thundered, sweeping blazing contrails into the onrushing wave, scything foes down with relentless fury. Godwyn pattern bolters and Mark II Bolt Rifles added their fury, blasting away enemies with deadly accuracy. Persion added the weight of his bolt pistol to the barrage, fleeing the familiar kick of the mass-reactive rounds sailing away.
Hybrids fell in droves, their chests blasted open and limbs blown free. Young and old, male and female, the bolt rounds claimed all regardless, hitting hard and detonating a second later to blow bodies apart. Even Purestrains were not immune to the carnage, their heads disappearing in clouds of red mist and their hearts torn from their chests. Showers of viscera rained as blood fountained high and fell back down, pattering on the heads of those yet to be killed. The ground became slippery underfoot, the stones wet with vitae, fallen bodies threatening to trip stumbling feet.
Persion shot a three-armed man, then blew the head off a woman with razor-sharp fangs then blasted free the left side of a boy with a ridged skull. Around him the Storm Heralds laid on fire, mowing enemies apart. They were slaughtering scores with their deadly accurate fire. They were holding the line, against all odds they were holding the breach. It was as fine a stand as any in the Chapter's history: fourteen Space Marines set against the innumerable hordes of the Xenos. Rapacious alien hunger set against human courage and fortitude.
Persion emptied his pistol's magazine, then reloaded and then emptied it again. His Brothers did likewise, spilling spent bolt-casings to the ground like rainwater. Their movements were swift and sure but every time they paused to reload the horde pressed forward, gaining ground inch by inch. Persion saw the horde closing and called, "They are going to reach us!" M
"Bring them on," Zeax snarled, "My hammer thirsts for alien blood."
"Keep firing Brothers," Persion ordered, "Zeax and I will hold them at bay."
The Genestealers were metres away now, held back only by the weight of fire. Then a wizened crone with talons for fingers fell missing a head, revealing a Purestrain lurking behind her. It bounded forward only to be met by Persion's axe. A sweep of the weapon and a clawed arm went flying but the Purestrain hissed as its two left arms stabbed for his side. Persion threw himself backwards and swept his axe about but the Purestrain ducked and the blazing head sailed by. It bunched up to pounce upon him but suddenly a crackling golden hammer slammed into its back, blowing its spine apart.
Zeax turned back to face the horde as he chortled, "That makes us even."
"You dream!" Persion yelled as a Hybrid came at him, "I'm far ahead of your tally."
Zeax met the oncoming foes with a sweep of his hammer as he sneered, "The day's not over yet!"
Persion's world shrank as the Hybrids closed upon him, those making it through the scything firepower leaping into combat. His vision was filled with stabbing knives and clawing talons as they charged at him, filthy skins and chitin hides pressing in. He met them with sweeps of his Friction Axe, cleaving limbs away and smashing in faces with every blow. He fought without restraint, using every advantage he could get. The burning edge of his axe, knees, elbows, the butt of his pistol, all were deadly weapons and he used them all to keep the foe at bay. His hearts burned with righteous ardour, his zeal honed and focussed by centuries of warfare. Persion had waged war across the stars, he had faced Traitors and Heretics, Daemons and even the Tyranid menace itself. Every moment had hardened him into a ferocious warrior and he brought every drop of his experience to bear, turning his zeal into a flurry of blows that laid the Genestealers low.
Persion lost count of how many he slew but his concentration was prickled as his vox squawked, "ion, come in… ar me. Persion!"
Persion caught Otlie's tones and as he fought on he called, "Persion here, report!"
Otlie voxed, "The North wall is collapsing, all points are overrun. Armour is advancing on your position. I repeat tanks are entering the breach."
Persion kicked a Hybrid to the ground and saw it was true, a dozen PDF tanks were rumbling onto the slope. The surviving Thunderers and Demolishers angling towards the Space Marines. Zeax sent a Purestrain flying away in pieces as he snarled, "Warp Hells, I'd thought they'd forgotten about those."
"We're not that lucky," Persion barked, "These things are damned smart."
The tanks ground to a halt and their barrels elevated, aiming to blow the Space Marines away in one salvo. Persion knew his squads had nothing that could withstand a barrage of Demolisher shells and they could not stop firing into the horde lest they be overrun. Yet from the horizon came hope. The faint speck of Starfire was returning, sweeping low over the buildings as it closed. The Turbolaser on its dorsal spine glowed with latent destruction, power enough to smite the tanks utterly.
The vox crackled, "Brother-Lieutenant, fire support incoming. Stand-by for danger close engagement."
"Understood," Persion voxed, "But watch out for…"
He didn't get to finish, for as the Thunderhawk flew low over the buildings a flurry of missiles arose. Ground teams of Hybrids firing blindly into the sky in an attempt to bring down the gunship. Few of them came close to the rushing Thunderhawk, missing it by metres, but three flew right into its path. One burst off its lower hull, only buckling the armour plating. Another clipped the cockpit, shattering the glassic viewportal and ripping off the canopy, leaving the pilots exposed but still flying. But the third missile flew straight up before a wing and was sucked into one of the howling jet intakes.
Starfire's port engine exploded, blowing shrapnel far and wide and tearing her left wing clean off. The Thunderhawk screamed as her form was violated, torn apart by lashing destruction. With a few more seconds perhaps the pilots could have recovered, or at least made a crash landing, but they were already committed to their attack run, hurtling towards the line of tanks at breakneck speed. There was no time to pull up, no possibility of averting doom. Starfire tumbled towards the tanks like a spear thrown from the heavens, dropping with flaming debris shedding from her flank.
Persion witnessed the explosion and his eyes widened with disbelief. He watched as the noble Thunderhawk fell to her doom, speeding towards inevitable death. At the very last instant he saw the surviving flaps jerk and the gunship twisted in mid-air, flying belly first. It was not an attempt to escape death but to spread the coming destruction as widely as possible. The pilots knew they were dead already and with their last breath they turned their gunship to ensure the crash took out as many tanks as possible. Then Starfire plunged into the lumbering column of machines and exploded.
Fire filled the breach for a second time and flaming debris was flown high. Persion's wars were battered by the noise and he felt a wave of heat wash over him as shrapnel pinged off his battered plate. Genestealers were blown off their feet, lashed by flames and violated by red hot shrapnel. Smoke and ash rose from the crash site, obscuring his view but he saw half-a-dozen tanks were flaming wrecks, reduced to burning hulks. Two more tanks had been flipped over, their crews killed in the mad tumble and the rest were milling about, trying to seal their hatches against the flames bathing their roofs.
The horde faltered as their armoured fist was destroyed and the few Hybrids on this side of the crash were swiftly cut down by lashing bolter fire. Persion looked upon the gravesite of Starfire and was left speechless. Two noble Brothers had died and their last chance to drive back the horde was gone. It fell to Zeax to say, "What do we do now?"
Persion croaked, "Fallback, we must fallback and regroup."
"Retreat?" Zeax sneered
But Persion steadied his voice and said, "No gunship, no sign of Yones' team and the wall is overrun. This position is lost, we must withdraw to a better one."
Zeax nodded once then turned and yelled, "You heard the order, fall back to secondary positions."
Persion called over the vox, "All units withdraw from the north wall and regroup at the inner courtyard. We shall make our stand there."
Hurriedly men abandoned the outer wall and ran. All over the north quadrant, they turned their backs on the enemy and fled. The fight to hold the walls of the Jade Citadel had been lost, all that remained was to make their last stand. Persion looked upon the horde lurking beyond the crash site and knew they would chase the defenders no matter where they fled. This battle was far from over and Persion was determined to make the enemy suffer before the end.
