[Mark: -2.11.00]
- Dawn Stalker's fleet transitions into the Ra'chaal system. Companies begin staging for deployment to objectives in the outer planetoids.
- XVth Legion frigate The First Curse begins silent operations. Contact with Expedition fleet cut.
- Vanguard under Captain Centimerius readies for First Strike.
/:::::/
Thought for the day.
"And when you move fall like a thunderbolt." – Excerpt from an ancient Terran manuscript on the ways of war.
The servitors worked fast,
In mere minutes they had completely encased me in my Mark II suit of power armor fresh from the artificer thralls. Gleaming bronze plates as perfect as the day they were forged like they had never seen a day of battle. The heavy ceramite became almost weightless once the machine spirits within were roused and set to purpose.
I stepped away from the arming block one of the lobotomized servants clicked my long black cloak in place on my back. The Enginseer Egli moved into my path, holding up my new crested captain's helm. Technical it was the same one I had received as replacement eight years ago after an Ork almost clove my skull in two, but the plume of white was just another reminder of my new status and the burden of leadership that had befallen me.
Egli bowed low, "Your warriors await you Captain."
I had not expected the adept to remain at my side, but Vaurion had given command. And Egli had proven to be more than skilled at maintaining all manner of Legion weapons and equipment in the short amount of time I had seen him work preparing the Vanguard. I took the offered helm up in my left hand pausing for a moment to stare into its red eyes and run my right hand through the transverse plume of white hair running ear to ear on its black mount piece.
"I require your assistance," I told the adept.
Egli looked up and I tilted my head over to one of the benches lining this deserted chamber indicating the solitary item resting there. My Vanguard mark still in the cloth bundle in which Vaurion had presented it. He quickly stepped over and collected the golden lightning bolts and a look of understanding passed over his features before they disappeared behind the rebreather mask.
He approached again with my mark rising up on two servitor arms extended from the harness on his back. Picking out one of the metal pieces and stowing the other in a belt pouch.
"Any preference?" He asked.
"Along the vox port."
The techpriest produce a small welding stylus from a holster on his right hip and set to work, small protective shade implants appeared over his eyes and he pressed the thunderbolt to my chest.
Sparks and blinding light filled my vision along with the acrid smell of this process, I donned my helmet sealing the stench and painful display behind the most advanced personal protection system in the imperium.
Once the first bolt was firmly in place Egli set to work on the second. His voice crackled through the rebreather mask.
"Are you expecting much resistance when you land?" He asked me, attempting to start a conversation.
I humored the man, "You were at the briefing."
"I'm asking you."
"…Intelligence hasn't shown any indication the Ra'chaal utilize any Titan class war engines, no matter how many soldiers they can throw at us they cannot stand against Space Marines. We shall attain orbital superiority quickly and once the army begins to deploy at the first elevator it will only be a matter of time."
He nodded taking up the next bolt, "As you say Captain."
I thought my chest plate was beginning to warm by the time Egli was finished welding the mark in place. I waited patiently as he cleaned up the burn marks and lowered himself back to the ground.
"Will you be joining us?" I asked him,
He chuckled in response, "Not in the first wave my lord, I get nervous when things try and kill me."
Egli turned and gave a half bow sweeping his right hand up to present my armory vault. "And your weapon my lord?"
I still had a hard time considering this collection as mine.
All these weapons mounted to the wall on brass hooks and thin chains or laid out in deep blue velvet, everything here had belonged to my predecessor and mentor Captain Oenomaus. Half a dozen power swords ranging from the short gladius style to a massive two handed broadsword. A solitary chainglaive, a trio of chainaxes. Bolters, rifles and pistols of every variety and pattern, row upon row of razor sharp knives.
The utilitarian chainsword Oenomaus had been issued during his first battle side by side with my own chainsword. The familiarity of that weapon held some appeal for me but my eyes were then drawn to the centerpiece of this priceless collection.
Five blue hued blades nearly the length of my forearm to adorn the wielder's fingers. Each edge honed to the width of a single atom warded by archaic and nigh-irreplaceable power fields. Form fitting gloves sealable over any armor detailed by brass studs set along the finger bones. The twin pair of lightning claws Captain Oenomaus had born into every single battle since they were gifted unto him by Master Antinous.
Even though they hadn't saved him in the end.
"Those." I told Egli.
Blurts of binary from the techpriest commanded the two loitering servitors over to the weapon racks. Delicately they retrieved the claws from their display and marched back to stand ready before me.
Egli took out his data slate as I reached my hands forward into the black depths of the power gauntlets. A wave of needles passed through my digits when the machine spirits woke and began the bonding.
"The spirits are eager lord," Egli said studying his data slate, "They have not been active in some time."
"No they have not." I confirmed.
The idea of using such a storied weapon when I had not yet proven myself had not sat easily with me.
"All that remains is to act…"
The voice of our Diaconus spoke again at the back of my mind. I lifted the claws free from the servitor's arms and willed the power fields to light. The air shimmered and the blades began to glow. I stretched out my arms and turned my wrists looking down their lengths bringing my fingers together arcs of energy flew between the blades.
I turned my armored head to look at Egli, "There is a wrist mounted combi-bolter within the vault, I will require ranged capability."
Egli commanded the servitors again I lowered my right arm down and the servant began its work. The first finished mounting the firearm and moved aside for its compatriot bearing ammunition. I lifted my hand and dry fired the twin barreled weapon at the far wall, satisfied I let the servitor feed in the belt of mass reactive shells and attach more to my waist.
Now fully equipped for violence I headed for the corridor to meet my company who would be finishing their own preparations. Egli quickly dismissed the servitors in binary then followed in my footsteps.
One by one, squad by squad, the men of the Seventh Company assembled.
Ranked and ordered in the marshal corridor outside of their barrack chambers. Each and every Astartes eager and ready war plates gleaming beneath the lights one would have needed to stand on a knight's shoulders to reach.
The ones about to turn and march to the embarkation deck froze and went ramrod straight as I passed in front of their ranks. I nodded to the sergeants who quickly led a crisp salute and then resumed marching warriors to the waiting dropships.
Our whole eight hundred men would not be joining the Vanguard this day, Vaurion had need of some of our brother's different talents elsewhere. Still followed by Egli I diverted away from the corridor into a side passageway in which lay the Terminator's ward. The only place in the fleet equipped to service our rare prototype suits of tactical dreadnought armor along with their private weapon vaults. The techpriest took a place in the shadows by these blast doors to wait patiently for my return.
All one hundred bronze Terminators were suited and waiting for their deployment orders, their unmoving crimson eyes fixed forward. Two however were standing out of rank quietly conversing with each other.
Sergeant Ryder the only man present in Mark II power armor still carrying the legion standard. His own wrist mounted combi-bolter locked and loaded and the empty fingers of his power fist idly curling and uncurling.
And beside him was the hulk of an Astartes called Sergeant Naylor. A small percent of our legion tended to grow larger than normal even for our kind, Praetor Vendra of the third Echelon had never looked up to any legionnaire he ever met. And with Naylor's intricate legion heraldry cradled by eagle wings and crested helmet he had been mistaken for a small Primarch by some of the auxiliary forces we had deployed alongside.
Especially since his weapon of choice was larger than a Space Marine was tall a fact I was quickly reminded of as I walked up to the two sergeants. Eyeing the massive metal studded kanabo war club grounded on Naylor's left. An unreasonable weapon for anyone lacking the monstrous augmented strength of a Terminator, or a Primarch. And I knew Naylor possessed it having once seen him shatter the leg of an Eldar Wraithlord with that power weapon.
A little of the old familiarity I shared with them as fellow sergeants still remained with the Terminator. I sensed the warmth in his greeting even through the menacing distortion of his vox projectors.
"Skius," he said with a nod.
It was rather hard to glare at someone while wearing a fully enclosed helmet but Sergeant Ryder managed to pull it off. Cocking his head up at the much larger Astartes at his casual greeting. Naylor's helmet dipped as he sensed his mistake.
"Apologies Captain," he corrected himself. "Your will, our hands."
With those words he raised up his own hands and clenched them into fists Naylor was eager for a real fight. I waved away his apology some Captains would have reprimanded him for insolence but I was not offended.
"Sergeant Naylor, take your warriors to the assault rams and await further commands from the Praetor. The wing shall be boarding the orbital plates."
He crashed one fist up in salute, "Very good my lord."
I did have the choice to simply send the orders down via another sergeant, through the vox or let Vaurion personally give the order. However while respect was still at the heart of our relationships with our brothers we had all been taught the simple values and ways that made those bonds unbreakable.
I tipped my head slightly to Naylor, my purpose here fulfilled I turned on my heels back the way I had come from Ryder raised the standard and followed me. Shouldering his war club with ease Naylor shouted out over the assembled warriors in high gothic, his already deep voice raised up several decibels from his helmet.
"Legionnaires Comito!"
One hundred Terminators turned ninety degrees right in one fluid motion. The deck shook beneath their combined weight as they fell in behind us.
This was the most crowded I had ever seen the embarkation deck.
Moving this many Astartes was no small task. The Vanguard today numbered two thousand strong the core of which was composed of my Seventh Company. Absent the one hundred Terminators and another hundred Veterans tasked to guard the flagship and the Praetor,
Packs of servitors and flight crews rushed past the squads of bronze clad warriors waiting to board the titanic Stormbirds being fueled and armed for the flight. The armored support for the Vanguard steadfast Rhinos, rugged Predators, lethal Whirlwinds and unstoppable Landraiders of every variety were being taxied to their carriers.
Roaring engine tests added to the maelstrom of noise as pilots finished off their preflight checks. Showers of sparks rained down through the harsh industrial light from a thousand different welders doing a thousand separate repairs on the legion's fleet. Armored conveyors driven by our thralls rumbled across the deck past our brothers loaded for bear with hundreds of thousands of spare magazines, bolter rounds, missiles, and replacements for every Astartes pattern weapon.
Everything we would need to carry out our mission.
"General quarters all hands man your battle stations. This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill. General quarters…"
The ironclad voice of Shipmistress Read boomed like the voice of some back world god of thunder rousing her unenlightened flock to war. I let myself smile just a little bit in anticipation, it wouldn't be long before the Battleship began to shake with the familiar chorus of distant cannons and we would finally begin our mission.
Beneath the starboard wing of the last Stormbird racked and ready to go in this lane two other Captains were awaiting my arrival.
Captain Rameus, helmet balanced on one knee sitting on a large crate of extra bolters leaning almost sleepily against the las cannon propped between his legs. He would be leading the three hundred Space Marines of his heavy support company with us this morning. They would play a familiar role today defending our drop zone, shepherding the artillery pieces and having his signal masters call down the orbital strikes.
And beside Rameus stood Captain Arminger, reaching back over his shoulders like he was trying to itch the jump pack strapped to his armor. His presence did concern me slightly as I knew he had aspirations and was not pleased by my appointment. But if he could put them aside in this battle Arminger and his two hundred Assault Marines would be a welcome addition to our forces.
Egli noticed Arminger's trouble,
"Is there a problem Captain?" The techpriest asked.
Arminger simply grunted in response, "You tell me Adept."
The Astartes turned Egli pulled out his data slate and began examining the small rocket booster capable of propelling the Captain's several hundred kilograms up across the sky.
I was fortunate to have found both men in the same place I had one last pressing issue to attend to before the invasion began. Choosing my second, another Captain to assist me in the battle to come. To offer counsel different strategies and should the need arise take my place in command. I had thought long and hard about this decision.
The logical choice was Rameus, dependable with a keen mind and more experience than most of the other Captains in our Echelon combined. There were even rumors he had turned down the Praetorship of the Fifth Echelon many years ago when Master Antinous made his Decree Ordinem.
On the other hand despite his attitude and dangerous hubris Arminger would make a fine second. Even if his sense of tactics left much to be desired. Speculation floated around from time to time that somehow a psychotic voice box had gained intelligence and control over his power armor existing only as a malevolent will for violence.
But even a stopped clock was right twice a day. Many Captains respected Arminger and his bravery inspired all who witnessed it.
With a loud snap and a brief burst of sparks, Egli stepped away from Arminger who rotated his arms and spun up the rocket booster briefly.
"You have my gratitude Adept," Arminger said apparently satisfied.
Cutting to the point I looked back to Rameus, "I require a second for this morning."
The old Captain picked up his helmet and stood, "We are at your disposal brother."
"You can tell John I'd be honored if he'd accept."
Rameus smiled and looked to our fellow Captain, Arminger froze visibly surprised even though his features were hidden by his helmet. I did not want any animosity between us, I hoped that my offer would repair any bridges that had been burned yesterday.
I hoped.
After a tense few seconds however Arminger nodded and brought a fist crashing up to the lightning bolts on his chest, "The honor is mine, Commander."
Commander,
The temporary rank granted to one of our brothers leading any force of multiple companies that wasn't a Praetor. The gravity of this moment hit me with that one word.
I was Commander.
Arminger lowered his fist, "The Sixty First is waiting I'll see you both on the surface."
"Assuming we don't get shot out of the sky," Rameus quipped.
"A little flak never killed anyone…"
It wasn't the gruff voice of Sergeant Ryder that surprised me with its sudden entrance, I turned to see another man I had not been expecting. Master Bruis and three of his acolytes in training had approached unseen content to let us carry on.
All of them were in their full armor, however with the Dawn Stalker's traditional colors switched appearing like a legion in black. Bruis held his signature power maul tightly surveying this impromptu gathering of senior Captains.
Bruis's three protégées not having earned the title Diaconus and the right to their cronzius yet stood with black boarding shields planted on the deck and long power swords sheathed in baldrics on their backs leaving their free hand for bolt pistols.
Captain Rameus smiled again as he donned his own helmet his voice becoming distorted into a menacing mechanical snarl, "Yeah but a lot just might."
I saluted and bowed forward in courtesy, "What brings you to our humble Embarkation deck Master?"
"I go where I am needed Commander," Bruis said, "And I believe you have need of me."
So he wasn't here to assume command,
The Diaconus shifted his gaze onto Captain Arminger who had yet to depart. Suddenly Arminger's uncharacteristically quiet attitude made sense as he crossed his open palms on his chest in the sign of the aquilla rather than our traditional martial salute for the Diaconus.
"Also," Bruis continued, "Praetor Vaurion started the mark precisely four minutes ago."
As if the gunnery officers had the most perfect sense of timing that sound I had been waiting for, the thunder of distant cannon fire rattled the entire ship. The explosive percussion of the macro cannons, the supernova roar of the mighty lance cannons blazing away at the unseen Xenos warships.
The Diaconus gave me a hearty slap on my right shoulder with a sharp crack of ceramite on ceramite, it was time to go.
"Come my brothers," Bruis said with a laugh heading for the Stormbird, "Death is hungry."
"Target that escort squadron grid…"
"Flight this is six-four! Where's our…"
"Gunners acquire that destroyer he's heading for the landers…"
"Mistress Read we need help! Hangar breach and reactor…"
"The kingship is down! Vanguard flight go, go, go…"
Outside of a crash harness standing just behind our pilots thralls I was subject to the full force of the dropships inertial pull. Bracing myself as best as possible as we burned out of the hangar and aimed straight for the dark planet.
I had never experienced a sight like this before.
My place as a sergeant had always been in the darkness of the crew compartment with my brothers. I never realized what I had been missing.
I picked out the differing shapes of our own warships and the smaller but much more numerous Ra'Chaal's spitting death and destruction at each other. Brief stars of fire and molten shrapnel dotted the inky void as fighters by the hundred dove from launch bays on both sides to engage their counter parts. Streaks like meteors illuminated the carnage as our macro cannons tore into enemy ships, thousands of exhaust trails raced back and forth across the viewport as the enemy's ship killing missiles dove towards our capital ships.
Slowly the orbital plate which was connected to our first target rose out of our line of sight as the pilot began to dip the immense craft into the atmosphere following the silvery stand of the elevator. Chasing the rocket flares of Arminger's drop pods descending to the battle that waited below.
Bringing another Ra'Chaal ship in sight
Our pilot voxed back to the flagship. "Flight this is Vanguard One enemy capital ship moving to block."
The static filled reply came an instant later. "Stand by."
I counted the beats of my heart imagining what manner of weapon would end our brief glorious invasion focusing my enhanced eyesight boosted by my visors magnification onto the shape of the ship before us. A snub nosed rectangle that had all edges rounded off decaled with several dull orange streaks like war paint. A blue glow lit the starboard side of the vessel and its rows of turrets turning to track the Vanguard.
Those same features built into my helm immediately darkened my vision when a blinding flash of light stabbed into the side of the Ra'Chaal ship. The Brimming Rays main lance batteries covering our approach. The beam of energy persisted for another two heartbeats blasting through whatever defenses the other ship had and carving its guts wide open, blooms of short lived fire and clouds of debris and Xeno crew spilled out into space moments before the entire ship exploded.
"Confirmed ship kill, Vanguard One you are clear for atmosphere insertion."
The pilot adjusted his controls one last time, "Solid copy Flight."
He voxed again, "Kukri, Tanto, Bowie squadrons form up and lead us in."
A flurry of acknowledgements came in from the chosen interceptor leaders, no fear in their voices as they drew up in a wedge in front of us. Fire already splashing across the noses of their vessels their task to guard us from any air assault as the sacrificial shield for our armada of dropships.
The Stormbird shuddered from the afterburners lighting, squeezing every last ounce of speed from the venerable engines to resume pursuit of the drop pods and now the interceptors in a sheer dive. However the gentle rumble of the ship accelerating soon turned violent as several more lance beams stabbed through space nearly clipping our ship passing through the net of interceptors.
My visor dimmed again the bombardment ships were cutting it close scouring our drop zone, we would be taking our first steps on glass it would seem. A petal of flame bloomed at the impact point on the surface below us on the edge of the retreating darkness of night.
Dawn Stalkers
We earned our name many years ago. A name drawn from the tactics of our first recruit's forefathers and their favored strategy of the dawn raid. Letting their enemies rest in the safety of their homes and strongholds only to come screaming out of the night with the rising sun at their backs in a frontal assault just when the enemy had relaxed and let all their imagined beasts and foes slip back into the shadows of their minds instead of the shadows just beyond their torches.
Even before those long dead warriors adopted this way of war armies across history had carried out a traditional stand to when light finally broke over the horizon. Just in case their enemy attempted such a strike. Our ancestors had known this practice very well, and showed again and again that once they crested the horizon there was nothing that could stop them.
Until the Emperor came with his Thunder Warriors.
The cone of fire across our own nose subsided, to my surprise the sprawling Xeno hive I beheld seemed rather Human. Nothing struck me as particularly alien in design, this place could have been mistaken for any number of humanity's lost colonies. Smooth edged white and grey bulky skyscrapers with wide opaque glass planes angles drawing in the eye with their simple elegance.
Scorched, melted and blown to pieces by the lance strikes.
Vast open lanes between the monoliths for the Ra'Chaal's traffic scattered with trees, small benches shielded against the elements by glass huts now displaying red alien script warning the populace of our arrival. Distant plumes of exhaust from the manufactorums drifted over the pale morning sky as light found its way into the hive.
Cut with flashes of light as the planets laser defense grid finally began to retaliate.
Jet trails from the Xeno fighter craft shaped like arrow heads launched from other ships in atmosphere or hidden airfields coming straight for our fighter screen. I was tempted to get closer and observe the opening dogfights however our co-pilot looked back over his shoulder to me.
"Thirty seconds till touch down my lord."
It was time.
"Keep the engines hot," I commanded, "Don't leave the drop zone unless summoned."
I did not want to put our only means off of this rock at needless risk. Mistress Read was a fine naval tactician, with the Ra'Chaal flagship destroyed and our efforts on the ground to black out their communications the enemy would be in disarray and easy prey for the expedition fleet once our ships heading to the system edge doubled back and hit their flanks.
But I was also a pragmatist at heart, hope for the best plan for the worst. Starting a countdown in my head I returned to the Stormbird's hold.
Master Bruis had spent the flight down walking amongst the rows of our brothers locked into place scanning for any sign of unease, but the Seventh Company remained undaunted. They were not hiding their nonexistent fear from the Diaconus, his presence simply provided an example. Bruis quickly turned gathering up his white cape as I stepped past him to the still sealed doors.
Three… Two… One…
Spinning gears and shifting pistons broke the airtight seal around the assault ramp behind me brothers unbuckled themselves and took their weapons in hand. Light spilled in through the widening gap along with a blast of hot air and the sound of many roaring engines.
This would be the eighth world I had set foot on but in many other ways it was the first.
My first as Captain, my first as Commander,
I knew I had to mark this moment, both in my mind and with words to my waiting men.
To prove to them I was ready for this…
I turned back to the waiting warriors opening up the vox link to the entire company. Offering brave words and a raised lightning claw.
"For our absent father! For our beloved Emperor! Brothers, this fight is what you were born for!"
From the front row of Space Marines on its golden staff our standard was raised. Sergeant Ryder holding high our rising sun his own deep baritone voice leading the chorus of our cry for war.
"For the Emperor!"
Roaring chainblades and a hundred different howling voices echoed the Sergeant in a single raging storm.
"For the Emperor!"
The land of my childhood was a very cold place our years blanketed by endless snows even in the atomic blasted bio-sphere of Terra. Mornings after an especially cold spat the snow and ice would crust the ground. I remembered how my boots would crunch through this solid layer onto the ground beneath oddly pleasurable in that way of young children drunk on the experience that was life.
I was reminded of that sensation the moment my power armored boots hit the dirt, like walking on a field of mirrors every boots step crackled with sound and a brief moment of resistance before I hit the unyielding ferrocrete.
Astartes followed their Sergeants, and the Sergeants followed their line Captains who reverently looked to the senior Captains for guidance over the rim of the blast site and onto untouched earth piling into their rhinos and landraiders. Outriders on jet bikes, and assault marines formed up into scouting skirmisher packs. Quad mortars were wheeled from the Stormbirds and set up beside the square of Whirlwinds already training their launchers in every direction loosing hunter killer missiles up at unseen fighter craft. Brothers with more heavy weapons of the Thirty Fourth company stood sentinel along the still glowing steaming rim of our landing site the length and width of four old Terran city blocks.
Quickly I began cycling through the vox frequencies sorting out separate links to individual officers, ships above us, artillery behind us and the tanks beside us.
I opened a channel to Arminger, "Captain take your company along the conveyor lines, bear east and hit the right flank of our target."
His response was prompt, "It shall be done Commander."
Two hundred men lit their jetpacks and took to the sky after their Captain beating his crescent bladed power ax against the adamantium slab of his combat shield in an almost tribal display whipping his men's blood up. Amidst the sea of bronze however I spotted a solitary figure in plain gunmetal power armor with the red crest of a Sergeant leap to the sky on wings of fire after the rest of the company.
Khonsu's Sergeant I presumed.
Next I voxed to Rameus, "Tyr mobilize the armor groups along the main tram lines and fall on the left flank of the elevator."
Ahead I saw the old Captain turn, shoulder his las cannon and raise an empty fist clearly signaling his affirmation in battle sign. Finally I opened links to my hand picked squads across the moving mass of the entire Vanguard.
"Brothers what is the shortest distance between two points?" I asked my chosen.
Ryder tapped his powerfist gingerly to his breast plate, "A straight line Commander."
I smiled behind my helmet, "Indeed."
Frontal assault with the sun at our backs.
Waypoints and coordinates appeared on their own heads up displays and my warriors immediately broke into the ground eating pace beaten into all of our recruits from their earliest days.
Ryder let the standard sway in the wind, I looked back over my shoulder to the Diaconus and his acolytes.
"Master Bruis?"
He saluted, "After you Skius…"
The ground levels of the looming buildings were large enough for our Landraiders to smash through unhindered, tracks grinding up the polished marble floors ramming straight through the decorative pillars crushing everything in their way.
Rhinos and we on foot followed in their ruinous wake sweeping the gutted structures for any Xenos. The first I saw was an unarmed group of several dozen running for their lives to the west desperate to escape our wrath.
They were exactly as the diagrams had said, green scaly skin a black knot of hair atop their heads, but garbed in a colorful assortment of light tunics and trousers. They bled purple I discovered as a squad of Astartes turned their bolters on them the garments they had no match for the high explosive shells.
Half were gunned down without mercy or pity, not the first Ra'Chaal to die this day and they certainly would not be the last. But one of Bruis's shield bearer acolytes in black stepped up and pushed the barrel of the Sergeant's bolter down. I was close enough to hear his words,
"Do not waste your ammunition brothers. Wait for proper foes."
We found those foes past the next skyscraper we pushed our way through identifying armed Xenos lining the open balconies of the next building in our way like some feudal world warriors on the ramparts of their castle.
I estimated there were at least two companies of infantry yet none of the expected synthetics, all were protected in what looked like light flak armor with open faced helms. Pointing a myriad of carbines, light machine guns, rocket launchers, and heavy energy weapons at the armored fronts of our Landraiders.
I opened the vox, "Forward!"
Heavy bolters and las cannons ripped into their ranks covering our approach, soldiers and metal exploded beneath the combined weight of fire. I broke into a run with the rest of my brothers closing the gap into melee.
Several of the Xeno soldiers threw small discs down at their feet, suddenly shields of cyan light sprung into being. Swallowing the high energy las cannon shots and letting bolter rounds explode harmlessly. But while they were safe from our ranged attacks the Xenos were perfectly capable of shooting at us.
Their small arms fire reached an unbelievable crescendo of high rate of fire weapons spat thousands of bullets at our front ranks. Nothing but the luckiest of shots could do more than annoy an Astartes with their small caliber, but the real threat of their own energy cannons and missile weapons quickly turned away from the Landraiders and down to us.
Brothers stumbled and fell when struck by the pale orange beams, arcing grenades magnetized to our armor before detonating. The missiles managed to get off a single volley sending more of us falling to the ground. My warriors parted around fallen brothers in an orderly fashion as we charged. To my relief none that I saw seemed to be dead, but blood still called out for blood.
"Rockets!"
Each Astartes bearing our own heavy weapons heard my voice went to one knee and let loose our own volley back at the entrenched enemy. Over their hard-light shields then bursting in deadly clouds of shrapnel in their midst.
The groan of tortured metal and cracking ferrocrete hit my audio receptors the makeshift alien fortress had enough of our punishment. The balcony they were firing from suddenly gave way along with much of the floor beneath them.
Sergeant Ryder was the first upon them still holding our standard high as he leapt up the makeshift ramp and swung his powerfist. Their shields offered no resistance to the Sergeant's body or to his gauntlet which swung through and caved in a Ra'Chaal chest with enough force to penetrate tank armor, coating his bronze plates with purple gore.
Chainblades roared and power weapons crackled to life as the slaughter began.
I made my first kill as our front and second ranks broke into their formation's heart. I swung my right claw up slicing one of their soldiers into pieces like a hunk of meat in a deli, the energized talon passing through the Xeno like he wasn't even there.
Stepping on and over bodies we killed and killed and killed blades rose and fell like machines, point blank bolt shots tore through bodies spraying the air with blood we drove them back all the way to the far side of this level.
Another Xeno threw down another disc shield in my way brandishing a sub-machine gun and some pattern of revolver. Its partner to the left hefted one of their larger energy projectors slowly building up a charge. These two were different from the other foot soldiers I noted, equipped with fully enclosed helms with t-slit visors, heavier armor and some form of device radiating heat at the small of their backs
Blue bolts of light hammered into my chest plate and a large caliber slug rocked my helmet back as the creature shot me in the face. It should have been aiming for the weak points of my armor to slow me down. I enlightened him of this mistake by stabbing my left talon through its stomach, servos in my armor whined as I lifted the corpse up to block the laser shot fired an instant after I made this kill.
The dead alien exploded into pieces and I pressed forward to kill the other before it could get another shot off. Seeing all of its allies brutally butchered and knowing it was next this being decided that discretion was the better part of valor, spinning back and extending its left arm out shooting a grapple claw away with a long length of cable to pull its unclean self out of harm's way through the window shattered by stray bolt rounds.
But it had just turned its back on a Space Marine, and that mistake proved to be fatal.
In the blink of an eye I swung both claws down on the Xeno's and reduced the soldier to a pile of purple stained bits that bore little resemblance to any living being. The grapple still connected with its target however, pulling the no longer attached arm free of the carnage we had so quickly wrought upon them.
One last creature scrambled back on its rear clicking an empty sidearm at the implacable form of Master Bruis. Our Diaconus was laughing at the things futile gesture, the Xeno's eyes were blank and its hand was shaking like it kept trying to conjure bullets into the pistol. Bruis stepped forward and then brought his right boot straight down onto the Ra'Chaal's skull squishing it like a ripe purple melon against the ground.
He turned back raising up his power maul with a shout of triumph, "Ha! A good start!"
Brandishing our bloodied weapons high we all gave a united Hau for our actions and the Diaconus. Sergeant Ryder leapt down onto the next street ever first into the fray, the building shook again as the Landraiders resumed their crawling pace into the ground floor.
An icon flashed in the upper left corner of my visor I stopped on the balcony and opened the link. The familiar face of Praetor Vaurion expanded out,
"Commander what is your progress?" He requested,
Master Bruis stopped beside me no doubt keying into this conversation. I cleared my throat and spoke, "En-route and on schedule we will begin our attack within the hour."
Vaurion nodded, "Excellent, be advised multiple Ra'Chaal ships taking position in low orbit over the elevator. And they have launched dozens of small objects at the surface, impact timed to coincide with your strike."
"Ordinance?" I asked, "Are they going to deny us with orbital fire?"
"Not likely the theoretical is drop pods, and we are rather busy up here..."
"Understood Praetor." I said before cutting the link, Vaurion couldn't stop them in time it would come down to the Vanguard on the ground.
"Rameus what is your position?"
"Three minutes out Commander."
"Arminger, status…"
I could hear the rumble of the approaching drop pods, the quiet shifts of restlessness from the men crouched beside me and the ticking energy coils of their many weapons.
But I did not hear Arminger.
I opened his vox frequency again, "Respond Captain, that's an order…"
Again my demand for information was met with only static, the Xeno drop pods would hit any minute and I couldn't let them dig in. We could easily overwhelm the security forces stationed at the elevator, Rameus would engage the second he could but I needed Arminger to hit their rear and divide their attention rather than just grind all their power against us.
"John where in the name of the Emperor are you?"
Time was up.
I had to assume my second was dead. I had to fulfill my oaths and storm this facility so the Imperial army could land in force and take over the brunt of the work ahead of us. For my Praetor, for my brothers…
"Captain Rameus give me everything you have from the mortars and the artillery," I commanded, "Single volley maximum suppression spread on the Xenos on my mark."
"Yes Commander."
My men were crouched by the battle scarred Landraiders awaiting my word, I twitched one talon to Ryder.
"Pass the word, prepare to charge."
At my side Master Bruis gestured to a black clad acolyte pointing his power maul at me. Bolters and rocket launchers were reloaded. I looked up to the bright morning sky, glowing spots like falling stars drew closer. I started to move toward the front rank.
No words leapt to mind to inflame their hearts and already boiling blood. So I took a page out absent Arminger's book.
"Rameus, Mark."
It took me four steps to reach a full sprint,
Two more for the others to realize what I was doing.
After another step I heard the scream of incoming rockets.
The eighth and the ninth carried me up to the black glass I crossed my arms and tucked in my legs as I jumped through the glossy pane not pausing to watch the shards fall and crumble.
I took my tenth in the wide open plaza leading up to the black steel cage of the ground station.
Four more thunderous steps hit the ground before the small cylindrical drop pods crashed down.
One more and they were already opening and I beheld those spectres of soldiers the Ra'Chaal had sent against the finest warriors Humanity had ever produced. The first one I saw were small, concealed in the smoke screen dumped by the pods for cover. Hard angular limbs of unpainted steel with a fat body covered in webbing for ammunition and a score of weapons I had seen earlier in the hands of the Xeno's we had put to the sword.
The single upright rectangular photo receptors in their wedge shaped heads recognized the threat of my presence raising up their weapons preparing to gun me down.
My right foot over took my left again, a dozen airburst missiles fulfilled their purpose and tore the mechanical legion to pieces sending ripples of ferrocrete out like a hailstorm of knives. Explosive shots landed in their sundered ranks making geysers out of bodies' and blackened debris.
Left thudded ahead of right, more stationary shields projected from the short cylindrical drop pods came to life far too late to ward their automated passengers from the artillery strike linked by sturdy cables shooting out to hit their counterparts on the other pods.
A perfect step to send myself flying into the dead center of these abominations.
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A/N Yes experience my writing pace of a snail overdosed on dental anesthesia,
Chapter was almost gonna be longer but I think I wrote in enough fake endings in this already in this grand experiment of perspective and narrative. Plus, well I think I left enough clues for some to see a thing I am doing. But will probably be more obvious next chapter
So anyway Share if you care, Review as you do, I got school work to take care of so sorry don't expect a new chapter anytime soon sorry.
As you were