GateCrashers
Part 8 Of The Thundersdawn Series
By Chaoseternus
Without warning, without defiance sent, the Tau'ri mortars fired at the Jaffa positions, their rounds not explosive or deadly but gas. Bright red clouding gas, blocking the sight of the Jaffa as they moved, disorientated within the fog.
The Tau'ri tanks moved in first, their IR sights bringing the stumbling Jaffa into sight with stunning and deadly accuracy. The Scimitar's fired, volley after volley picking group after group of Jaffa and tossing them apart, scattering them like broken rag dolls in the wind. Behind them, came the mighty behemoths of the GateCrasher Terminator Squad, their modified P-90's spitting leaden death at any surviving Jaffa . The defenders fell one by one.
Within just ten minutes, it was over.
Terminator Fulgrim approached the tunnel entrance with caution, his senses honed through 15years of blackest operations screaming that there was a trap ahead. He moved slowly into the tunnel, not noticing anything out of the ordinary.
He never did, till the brilliant bolts of laser energy smashed the helmet of his terminator armour into so much worthless rubble, by which time it was too late. He never got a warning out.
Behind him the other Terminators paused nervously as Fulgrim's armoured suit fell with a crash, motionless to the ground. Somebody in there had the ability to take a terminator down in seconds. It was a worrying thought.
Roboute paused, then gestured, calling an experienced infiltrator forward.
The camouflaged marine nodded, and then dodged forward, angling a mirror around the corner. The mirror vanished, brilliant bolts of light tearing the marines hand off as black suited supersoldiers strode arrogantly out of the tunnels, their weapons spitting death in all directions.
"How in the name of God did Maktenos get his hands on supersoldiers?" Roboute cursed as he raised his targeter hand at the enhanced soldiers.
"I don't know" Dorn shouted, holstering his useless P-90, and slamming a power hook-up into his secondary weapon the sword, "and I will be very interested in finding out the hows and whys, sometime when I do not have 7 supersoldiers to deal with!"
Nodding, Roboute Guilliman gave up on the useless rockets and drew his sword, swiftly plugging the power hook-up into its grip.
Then he joined the other three surviving Terminators in their clanking charge, screaming defiance at the supersoldiers, his sword crackling with energy.
It was a deadly melee; the Supersoldiers knew their bolts could kill the terminators, they knew where to fire them for best effect, but the powerswords of the terminators crackled with electric energy, the blades pure focused forcefields were able to cut through the armour of the supersoldiers with ease, and release their cackling electricity into the breech.
In a match of equals, skill is the determining factor. And supersoldiers have no skill only brute unrelenting force, but they did outnumber the terminators.
Guilliman fell, his helmet sparkling and crackling as electricity surged lose, short circuiting through his body, a bolt causing crippling damage. Screaming, he tore the helmet from his head, throwing it with all the force his motivator-enhanced armour could manage.
Grunting angrily, he rose to his feet, swinging his powersword through the neck of a supersoldier in front of him, the electric discharge cauterising the wounds as the decapitated body fell to the ground. Grunting, he glanced around to see Dorn fall to the ground, his gun-arm torn from his body. Growling, he charged, ducking under the supersoldiers bolts as he ran to avenge his comrade.
He swung, the supersoldier still hadn't learnt to duck, and another head fell to the ground. Groaning he looked up in time to see Carter / Selmac carefully poke his head around the cave entrance.
Roboute groaned, glanced around at the blood splattered clearing, the battered Terminators, the slowly returning tanks and flicked the back-up radio attched to his belt on,
"GCT1, requesting extraction and Medevac"
Their fight at least, was over.