Woods close to Hautmont, later at the evening

Andy Thrope was parting the shrubs in front of him very very carefully-that kind of movement could be seen too easily. Yet for all the care there was nobody to watch and so the former Englishman continued on his way. He had averaged about 500 meters per hour during the last hours and c considered himself recklessly fast. A few more meters and he would conclude the second round he had taken through the woods that held the campsite of the serfs.
At least there seemed no armsmen hidden in the woods-that was good already. Lifting his Night vision Googles-ex East German Armed Forces vintage, heavy and temperamental-he studied the group of serfs again that huddled in small groups on the clearing.
Even when he lit the scene up with the integrated infrared light none of them had obvious arms besides some staffs, there was no concentration of too-fit men-probably this group was legit.
Pulling his microphone out of his shirt he pushed the "to talk" button twice-then twice more after a short break. There was a short "klick" for an answer and 15 minutes later he watched Jean walk into the clearing as if he had no concern in the world.

"Bonjour mes amis" brought a lot of people to their feet in alarm, but no daggers were pulled and no alarm was given. Andy Thorpe watched many greetungs and introductions, Gallic embraces and expensive gestures before he went back and summoned the rest of the crew.
When he arrived Jean had already convinced to go deeper into the woods as the "Musketeers" had to apply camouflage to everybody, and for that a little light was necessary.

Road close to Hautmont, next morning

"Make way, make way for the Marquis de Lesac" The herald who cleared the way for his master had already cussed the slow-poke driver of a small entertainer group as they had the gall to drive to a point where they could stash their carriage on level ground.
This group was proceeding on foot and was at least as slow to leave the road as the entertainers but here the herald kept his distance carefully and his whip stayed at his side. The sad figures which slouched down the road wore shabby clothes of all description, but all featured full-length sleeves, hoods and had either wrapped their hands in rags or wore some sort of gloves.
The faces were in the shadow of their hoods anyway, but still masks and rags hid the faces from a sun. The Herald was glad for this as the glimpses of blackened fingers and boils that were visible wherever skin was exposed was a ghastly sight. Several of the afflicted wore staffs with small bells attached and one beat a board with a stick repeatedly.
The rest was heard in a hoarse chorus "Unclean, Unclean, beware of the plague, unclean" and that made him keep distance better than most other things he could think of.

Andy Thrope was regularly beating on his board, looking downwards in a show of dejected suffering when a huge shadow fell upon him. When he lifted his eyes sufficiently he saw that the shadow was cast by a huge knight on an equally huge charger. The knight watched him for what seemed to be eternity before pushing his horse on. One of the servants stopped a second later and dropped some coins at the Englishman`s feet. Andy made a show of getting to his knees and gargling around "merci" with a stone placed in his mouth to simulate a damaged tongue.
The long sleeves of his robe hid the extended middle fingers well enough. When the party was past the horizon everybody breathed easier and soon thereafter a small lunch was taken inside a conveniently placed copse of wood.
"Two more days like this and then we hit the wilderness. We can change into something less smelly and do the rest in style."
"I am greatly looking forward to that."

Battle Barge Holmgang, Hurikan System, another Universe, another time

A Battle Barge has a mass far upwards of a million tons and any force that can move it at all must be great indeed. Anything that shakes the warship sufficiently to overcome its internal dampers was titanic by definition.
Currently even Leman Rus was gripping a handrail for stability as the ship around him was experiencing nearly regular tremors to rival an earthquake. So far the void shields of the sturdy Battle Barge had mostly held and the thick armor had absorbed what they could not, but whether this nice state of affairs would last was anybody`s best guess.

Of course things had not been so easy as hoped after the first skirmish. It had taken the augurs (a small voice inside his head persisted to call them sensors) several hours to show the major combatants in this system and there had been more of them than hoped. Actually there were enough enemy ships to overwhelm even the Imperial Task Force of Astartes, Mechanicum and Space Fleet. The only chance at victory lay in overwhelming the scattered groups of enemy warships in detail before they could coalesce into an overwhelming whole. The all-out attack that this meant was suiting his instincts fine, yet the hours that lay between each battle and the lack of own involvement was testing his patience to the max.

One of the factors that helped him putting up a straight face and not getting into everybody`s hair was indeed that small voice that propped up from time to time. It had become less these days but it was still there-and he did not mind it at all.
Like nearly all Astartes Leman Rus had the ability to sift through the memories of the fallen of which he could consume the brain of. A rarely used capability it could be useful in learning new languages or gave glimpses into enemy`s intentions. Normally these memories did not last long or made big impressions. Yet Leman Rus had been so mentally empty after his aeon-long stay in the warp that the memories of the German had an impact out of proportion. The Patriarch was pretty sure that he had taken some personality traits from the Eastern Friesian paratrooper and while the memories were fading with time he was equally sure something was left.
In a sense a German Paratrooper was watching one of the biggest Space Battles ever through the eyes of the Patriarch of the Space Wolves.

That view currently was the running battle between a "Desolator" Battleship, a couple of "Carnage" and "Slaughter" cruisers and their escorts against the Space Wolf task force. While they had the upper hand in firepower and two of the Chaos Cruiser were slowly falling behind for engine damage the battle was by far not one sided.
The Arc "Omnisiah`s Wisdom" had lost her shields to two sustained salvos from the Chaos Warships who finally had managed to coordinate their fire. Most had vandalized the armor but gaps and rents showed where even that armor had been insufficient. Weapons no longer tracked, actinic arcs showed where energies were misdirected and the ship continually operated her lateral thrusters to keep accelerating in a straight line with her sisters.
"Captain Ulfgar-we are too far away to use our Bombardment Cannon-can you bring us closer?"
"That will mean more hits Patriarch."
"So?"
"Shall I try to shield the Arc then?"
"Make it so."
"Helm-course change to assigned coordinates. All hands-brace for impact-repeat Brace for impact"

The Forces needed to move a battle barge are titanic indeed and inside the ship small suns were fed inside magnetic fields that would rip a human apart if here were to come too close. These reactors were pushed to produce even more power that was fed into the great engines and the shields. The "Holmgang" managed to put itself between the "Omnisiah`s Wisdom" and her enemies just in time to catch most of the salvo that was meant for her.
Leman Rus was no stranger to space battles, but the violence that gripped the Battle Barge was like nothing he had experienced yet. Outside of the ship great streams of energy that would have been sufficient to vaporize a small moon were either directed in other ways or sent to the warp. Yet, the shield generators were never meant to take this kind of punishment for long and one by one they switched off before they overloaded with fatal consequences for their ship.

Only the last shots of the salvo actually contacted the hull of the Holmgang. Battle Barges were slow to accelerate and compared to their size their armament was actually not so much, but they were armored to an incredible amount. Given that their purpose was to deliver the Space Marines on board unharmed that made sense and their armor overall was at least as good as the very thickest on the already well-protected arcs.
Meter-thick plates of Adamantium were ejected into the void, sensors vaporized and whole departments were unable to function for long seconds due to shock damage-but there was no wholesale hull breaches.
Picking himself up the Space Wolf Patriarch watched the seeming chaos on his bridge when crewmembers pulled themselves out of the shock of impact, displays reset themselves and reports were coming in. A look at the damage board showed that so far his orders had not done appreciable damage-but the next salvo might be well different.
All shields had shut down and they would be dead lucky if 2 of them would be working again when the next impacts were due. Still before the enemy was ready again the Desolator was finally in range of the bombardment cannon. Their main purpose was to hurl huge shells at ground fortifications and as such the shells would fly on for all eternity when launched. Yet in a space battle the chances of hitting something were minute when the range was more than the bare minimum sanity required-not that this was applicable of the Space Wolves anyway-so they were used up close.

And the Desolator was very close-to an unaided eye it would be a mere moving light, but the screens of the Holmgang`s bridge showed the majestic ship in brutal detail. Many millennia ago it had been a ship build and crewed by the Empire, but now its mass was in the service of other powers. Sigils on the hull made for queasy stomachs, many additions changed the majestic spires and flying buttresses of the original into a nightmare of sharp edges and shapes that seemed as off as an Escher painting.
What remained was a brutal firepower that could lay waste to entire worlds. The battle had not left the ship untouched, like the Holmgang it had temporarily lost its shields and some areas of the hull were blackened by previous hits.
The bombardment cannons were fired with minute intervals as not to destroy their own ship but managed to shake the Barge nearly as badly as the weapons impacts had before. The results at the target were much different. The heavy shells were difficult to employ, costly and not the ideal weapon in space. But when they hit they were often able to punch through the heaviest armor as if it were not there and then exploded inside the target.
What seemed like small sparks on the targets hull were in fact acre-sized sparks that denoted these hits. Armor and systems were ejected outwards, whole sections went dark, lit up again, went dark and stayed that way, weapons ceased moving-but the Battleship accelerated like nothing happned.
The crash of hits and the alarms that went off on the bridge of the "Holmgang" showed that the new focus of the enemy was the Battle Barge. Shaken at least as badly as before the damage board changed colors from green to yellow and red in many places and more reports came in that told of sections open to space.

The gamble had not paid of-the Desolator was still there and now the "Holmgang" was the center of the enemy`s wrath. Leman Rus was about to address the Captain when he found that worthy looking intensely at the enemy battleship.
Leman could not fathom what Ulfgar saw there, yet it must mean something to the experienced space warrior.
"Helm-take us in more close-much more close. Engines-I need all you have got and then some. And get these shields up again, Kraken may take you."
The ships frame groaned when even its sturdy frame came under forces they were not really designed to take and the picture in the screens had to be adjusted for sight all the while as the closing range allowed for a lower magnification. By now even Leman could see what the Captain had sensed earlier-the infrared picture of the Desolator showed ever increasing temperatures. One of the hits had probably damaged the cooling system beyond quick repair and the reactors that powered the great war machine now killed it.

Unable to fire, unable to accelerate or change vector the bulk of the desolator protected the Holmgang from the fire of its squadron mates whether it wanted or not. It could not do so totally, but the number of hit registering on the Battle Barge was markedly reduced. The surviving sensors showed that several Mechanicum cruisers had attached themselves to the mad charge and the ceaseless work of men and Astartes posthumans brought the Shields back on line.
When the Battle Barge emerged from the sensor shadow offered by the dying Chaos ship Ulfgar let of a howl that raised hair even among the Space Wolves and hit the tab that ordered his cogitators to fire with a resounding clang.
The Holmgang and the cruisers that followed had all targeted the "Carnage" that was the first to emerge behind the destroyed battleship. While the Battle Barge had fired first its shells were not as fast as the Plasma barrage issued by the Mechanicum cruisers, so the shields of the cruiser were out by the time they hit. They arrived together with the lance beams from the same cruisers and went through the armor like through tissue paper. The mighty Chaos ship simply became dark and started to loose parts.

Twenty minutes later the Holmgang and the other ships were back in position.
Message from Hel Karbor to Leman Rus:
"Stop playing around and taking unnecessary risks-without you this mission fails"
Message from Arcmagos Stf-2b, Captain "Omnissiah`s Victory" to Leman Rus
"We can continue our service to the Omnissiah-thank you-just do not do it again"
Replay from Leman Rus to both
Filtered by software as non-pertinent and anatomically difficult to impossible

The good news was that that this had been the largest enemy task force left in the system and many of those left knew a losing prospect when they saw one and set course for the outer system where they could enter the warp safely.
That did, of course, not keep ships showing the mark of Khorne to attack without much tactical sense or reason, usually they were vaporized before they could do any greater damage but in one case they managed to board the "Mars" battlecruiser "Iterant Truth". The Wolf`s offer of assistance was curtly rejected and as could be expected the crew of the cruiser was able to kill the Khornates in a series of intense but brief skirmishes in the ships passageways.
As the Chaos Marines were too bend on close combat and bloodletting they managed to kill an inordinate amount of crew before they were finally put down but neglected to sabotage any critical equipment. The battlecruiser`s Nova cannon and the squadrons of fighters and bombers that rotated through his bays helped to defend the imperial Task force till the end.

Having achieved local superiority the imperial ships "climbed upwards" from the ecliptic plane. There were still orbital fortresses to reduce before more could be done and it would not do for any misses to be backstopped by the planet.
Leman Rus did not need much sleep, like any Astartes but debated with himself whether he should retire. The fixed defenses could have played an important role if they would have been closely coordinated with the various fleets, but as his allies had caught the enemy out of position or his own instincts worked against him that option was gone.
The impressive short range firepower of the fortification could be outranged by the Mechanicum Arcs , the torpedo (guided missile-silence Jens, will ya?) capacity was too small to overwhelm point defenses and the small crafts were already depleted by the look of things.
It would be a good time to retire, let the professionals do their job and get back once the ground assault came due.

Next night, 700 meters AGL, Sea close to Ulthuan

Hartmut Klawiter was roughly as busy as a one-armed wall paper hanger. He had to use a hand-held laser range finder, a temperamental NVG of Soviet manufacture and a wireless set. On top of that he had to keep all call signs in his head.
That he was so busy was a good think as it kept him from being afraid too much-and sitting on a Black Dragon that could spew poisonous fumes or swallow him whole piloted by a sadistic arrogant Druchii who would kill him quickly in his better moods if allowed.
But as he was far too concentrated on his job not even his somewhat queasy stomach intruded and he pushed the to-talk button of his 70 cm wireless set with a gloved hand.

"Flyboy to Flag actual-we see 3 groups of ships, all with a course towards you. First is 5 ships, 2 medium 3 small sized, speed roughly 12 knots course 35 degree, second is 3 medium sized ships at 11 knots…"
He was one of the few members of the "Schwarze Schaar" who could speak Druchii well enough to be understandable via Wireless and needed no translator. No German was crazy enough to go on an Druchii ship without a lot of backup he could trust, let alone a fleet commanded by Admiral Malik. Ever since his humiliation at the hands of the "Task Force Hag Graef" he hated Germans with a vengeance. The chances of having an unfortunate accident were just too high.
Said Admiral was currently looking at the newest piece of equipment installed into his hydra ship "Karmond`s Spear". It was piece of Glass held by a sturdy frame. On the other side of it a wireless operator and two helpers were penciling the positions of his fleet and the enemy`s ships with a strange looking pen that could be wiped off.
He had been very skeptical when he was first told how this would work but was a believer by now. This made visualizing the battle look so easy like the war games he had played when the world was young. All very nice-if it were not so dependent on the bleeding Germans.

It had taken some trial and error, but by now the Germans had installed some of their innovations on his flotilla. How stupid it had seemed at first-who had ever heard of a stiff sail with a profile of a birds wing or a sail ballooning like a wind-filled sack when the wind came from astern.
It was a good thing that the first trials were conducted when he was not around-he might have done unfortunate things to this Thorsten, son of Breitkopf. But when some basic mistakes were eliminated the ship could nearly fly, or at least it seemed that way. And now he had a choice of tactical opportunities like a gourmand in front of the buffet.
"We take this group-we can kick them out and are still leeward of the second one. That one will never catch up till we are at the Bay of Drusilla. Plot a course for an intercept."
When he stepped back his staff got busy using the wireless sets to contact the other ships. He was aware what the Germans charged for the lease of their sets and was sure it was worth every gram of gold in a night battle. No need for highly-visible signal lamps, no ships lost in a fast turn that would show up the next morning if at all and a much more detailed set of orders and reports that could be relayed.
The combination of aerial recon and wireless communication allowed him to leave just a minimal guard with the convoy he was protecting and going after the enemy`s blockading squadron one-by-one.

It took more than an hour to get sufficiently close to their decadent cousins, by that time he was on the bridge and tried to spot the enemy with the glasses he had purchased at such costs. He was about to doubt the reports he got when first the crow`s nest gave a bearing and then the masts of the ships appeared above the horizon for him.
"Hared-signal the squadron-Enemy in sight. Captain Hirach-I suggest we assume Battle Stations, but silently."
The Admiral watched as sand was distributed on the deck as to soak up blood and keep footing, watched as the boats were lowered into the water and towed behind-they would be cast off when the real fighting started. Inside the ship bolts were retrieved from their lockers and in Maliks field of view a last coat of grease was applied to the Bolt Throwers.
Lifting his glass again he found his first estimate to be true-3 Eagle Ships were making a line towards the convoy but were now changing course towards him. Normally they would be more than a challenge to his 5 hydra ships, but he had hopes that the upgrades his ships had received would give him an upper hand.

He watched the magazines of the repeating catapults being loaded with 5 bolts each with an additional one that went into the slot. "Take the clamps off you dolts, otherwise we might not bother at all."
"6 clamps removed Sir"
The rating who had received the job presented 6 small metal clamps to the noble that was in charge of the "Spears" artillery.
"Very well-carry on. Wind her up."
Great crank levers were inserted into the bulky bolt throwers and with sweat and swearing the mechanism that stored the energy for 6 shots was wound up-just in time.
There was no great report or flashes of lightning that warned of the Asur fire but bolts from 9 catapults rained down all over his ships. The "Spear" received two hits-one hit the hull above the waterline, the other made an inconsequential hole in the sails clothing-Khaine was looking after his own.
And now was his turn.
"Fire" send the mechanisms of the two throwers of his ship into motion. The energy stored in the crossbow-like arms threw the first bolt downrange. The magic that had been imbued into the bolts accelerated them to cannonball speeds.

The clamps that had been removed from the bolts heads had so far restricted propeller-like bronze fittings at their tips from turning, now the slipstream spun them around their axis. They spun for several turns till they dropped off the threads cut into the axis around which they turned.
When the bolts hit the walls of the Elven ships the axis was pushed backwards into the bolts head where it crushed a small capsule containing fulminate of mercury. The small explosion that followed caused the sympathetic explosion of a few grams of black powder-they finally ignited the kilogram of dynamite inside the bolts head.
The explosions fulfilled Admiral Malik`s wildest hopes-the fire that claimed Asur`s ships was almost too beautiful to watch.

Nearby, 20 meters below the Surface, one hour later

"The signals are gone now Sir, we can lower the Elint mast now."
"Understand. And you are sure they were 70 cm signals in Druchii language."
"Positive Sir."
"What the fuck? Well, we`ll kick it to the intelligence types, they will make something out of it."
Lowering her periscopes U32 continued her patrol

Skavenbight, same Time

A very long time ago this place had been known as Tylos, a place of enlightenment and beautiful architecture, surrounded by a pastoral landscape. Below it had been a Dwarf undercity, Kavzar, a shining example of Dvarven and human cooperation.
Now the city was the scene of moldy and half-shattered ruins where Skaven drove squeaking carts pulled by mechanical monstrosities spewing black fumes. The pastoral landscape had changed into a blighted swamp in which countless dead were resting lightly, getting up at the slightest provocation.

The foggy air was filled with vermin of all descriptions that bore a thousand diseases that were crippling or lethal to humans but only a nuisance to the Ratmen. The once-grandiose undercity was dirty, partially flooded, half-decrepit and enlarged in crude ways beyond all sanity. It was filled with a teeming mass of skittish bodies of all descriptions that plotted, schemed, conspired and fought among themselves till their early death. The center of the City was a temple, a high tower at its middle the only visible edifice above ground. White marble tried to shine after millennia of neglect, elsewhere crumbling walls were supported by shoddy repairs and rickety scaffolding.
A Bell was placed in that tower, made of the biggest piece of Warpstone ever seen and deep below was a column of 13 sides listing the often contradicting rules that Skavenkind supposedly followed.
This was the Skaven`s utopia, their haven, the center of their ways and their model for the whole world.

Near this column a huge chamber held the Council of 13, the ruling body of Skavendom. Known as the Lords of Decay theirs was the Under-Empire that stretched nearly all over the known world with the exception of Ulthuan and which possibly outnumbered the denizens of the surface.
The central position of the table was held by an empty chair, leaving the pride of place to the Horned Rat, the terrible god of Skavendom. To the left and right sat the self-styled Lords of Decay. The least of them had occupied his current position for more than 200 years.
In a race where the vast majority members did not live past 20 years this could only be achieved by the most ruthless application of magic and paranoia-they were the bright examples of skavenhood every Ratman aspired to.
They were all Skaven and yet all different-the black furred powerful Warlords of the warrior clans, the gadget-laden Lord of Clan Skryre and the white pelt of Seerlord Kritislik. As different as all of them were, as much as their goals differed and as much as they worked to upset each other`s plans they were allied in their disgust and hate at what they had just heard.
They watched the few wretched survivors of the Altdorf warren being led outside by hulking stormvermin. Missing patches of fur and gaunt frames told of the hardships these Skaven had undergone to reach Skavenblight as quickly as possible.
Some of them would be kept in the Dungeons for further questioning, the rest would be silenced-no need to panic the multitudes.

The Seerlord opened the discussion by dint of his seniority and position.
"Told you that the humans would be trouble now the Conspiracy of Silence is over after Middenheim, told you. Clan Ershine is not capable of keeping secret quiet quiet."
Lord Sneech, the most feared Skaven of the group and the leader of the Clans of Scouts and assassins was enraged by this as expected.
"It was not us who betrayed secret by bringing Warp Stone Bomb to Middenheim, not us. Clan Skryre is clumsy clumsy."
Lord Morskittar, the Clan Skryre leader was covered by warpstone amulets and gadgets, some of them quite lethal rose to that.
"Only because you cannot kill those who have seen us, seen us. And now we all pay the price for this incompetence. Never before have we lost a warren-nevernever. And now we humans dare to attack us because they think us weak weak. And they dared to attack by destroying a pumproom, they dared that. We have to show us that we are not weak-we have to teach them to fear us if they must know us."
The rippling muscles under the fur of Lord Paskit showed how he had started his way to warlord of all Skaven warrior clans. "We can assemble the host, host and attack one of their cities and raze it to the ground. Much loot and slaves can be ours, ours"
"You seem to forget that there are no tunnels under Germany yet. What town do you want to attack, attack"
"Only because you are too slow remaking the tunnels under the Wasteland we Warriors can still fight, fight. We use the tunnels under Bretonia and attack Town on the Border of Germany, Germany. Maybe this SSaarlouis-or Kaiserslautern. Then we teach them why they should be afraid of the Horned Rat-teach them we will."
"Can Skryre can help you."
"Clan Mors will graciously supply troops, yes yes."

The wheezing, bubbling voice cut through the din. Its owner was swaddled on many cloths and robes for which even the hardened members of the Council of 13 were thankful. The Lord was even more hidden by the swarms of flies that surrounded Lord Nurglitch, Lord of Clan Pestilens. If any of the assembled Skaven had earned the title "Lord of Decay" it was him.
"Has any of you heard what these deliciously wretched Skaven had to say? They attacked the humans with every Clanrat, Stormvermin and Slave they could push up to it. Maybe the humans were alert, maybe it was even a trap-but I doubt the latter from the reports –wheeze-.
But no matter what-even so they should have given a good fight and killed many many humans and leave a city in the clutches of Grandfather Nurgle and his blessings blessings.
And what of it-are the Imperial or German armies decimated by fighting against us-no. Is Altdorf a depopulated pit full of staving sick-regretfully no. Do the humans fear our attacks-no, no.
Instead all Skaven were dead after 3 days days. And the Imperials are less dangerous than the Germans Germans.
And why is this so? Were the Skaven from Altdorf bad fighters? Are they cowards? No. All of this is so because the Germans are allied with the Imperials. And the Germans have machines-many many machines that fight for them as they are afraid afraid. And the most dangerous of these machines can fly and drop bombs and burn their enemies. How how do you fight an enemy who flies so high that you can hardly shoot him and who rains magical fire upon you to kill an whole army?
If we send a mighty army to fight them now they will all die-die."

"So So what do you want to do do Lord Nurglich-nothing?"
"No no, we shall give them the Blessings of Grandfather Nurgle, that will teach them respect respect."
Lord Sneetch did not speak any louder than normal conversation would require and he did not pitch his voice any more than any other and yet he stopped the clamor that started.
"This is wise, wise-they do not need who kills them-kills them. Clan Erskine will send assassins to kill leaders. Sick and leaderless they will no longer be a threat threat."
"Clan Skryre will teach them to fear our mighty machines-fear them."
The squealing that ensued filled the chamber with shrill sound and the glands of the Lords made the air even less breathable but the results were clear.
No open warfare against the Germans at present-the covert variant would serve for entre` into the Germans punishment.

Hurikan II, another Universe, another time

The sea that lapped against the beach covered with ash-colored sand was probably blue once, but nobody could see this from the rainbow-colored slick that made waves against the shores. The moon had shone on this setting millennia ago before the factories and construction of the many fortifications had turned the air into a mixture of chemicals that would not allow such a low amount of light to pass.
Would it have passed it would have reflected on a number of low bunkers that dotted the landscape, all arranged around a plascrete-covered field that sported many massive hatches and a huge projector like-device.
The plascrete around the hatches was blackened as the silos below them had fired their munitions into the battle that raged in the orbit around Hurikan some time ago. The projector turned in minute amounts while its power banks were recharging for the next shot.
Nothing insubstantial like moonlight would penetrate the murk that served as this planets atmosphere but the energy beam that lit the landscape briefly now had no problem at all. Designed to penetrate many meters of advanced starship armor and then strike at innards kilometers behind said defenses the lance strike pushed a column of superheated air aside before it impacted close of the projector. Having enough energy to vaporize a substantial chunk of plascrete-in addition to bunkers, weapons and defenders which formed a donut-shaped rapidly expanding cloud from which a mushroom of smoke and fire rose.

Similar strikes hit inland and to the flanks of the first ones and eradicated most of the defenders that guided the shore and the ground-based space defenses. Left was an soot and ash covered wasteland that had several glowing craters in its midst.
There were very few survivors, mostly at the fringes of the strike zone. Most of these could not see much beyond arm`s length due to the dust and smoke but the few for which such restrictions did not apply were impressed by the armada of fliers closing in from seawards. Having performed their entry-burns over the ocean they had avoided most ground-based anti-space weapons. On the outside of the armada Lightning interceptors searched for airborne targets, protecting shoals of Marauder Bombers and Vulture Troop Carriers.
Few defenders fired at the troop carriers that settled in for a landing, which after all had been the point of the exercise. Presently the Marauders were keeping the enemies attention just fine by attacking fortifications close to the edges of the beaten zone. What anti-air weapons there were opened fire on the ungainly craft, Laser beams seeking incoming bombers, missiles trying to maintain lock despite ECM and the bright explosions of plasma cannon.
They caused the losses upon the Imperials but in turn invited counterfire from the Marauders configured to combat such weapon systems. Called "Iron Hand" by a tradition predating the Imperium these fired missiles homing on the targeting systems emanations or simply dropped bombs on anything threatening.
Much closer to the shore a Vulture came in for a combat landing. Hovering just a meter of ground but never touching it, it opened side doors and a mixture of Skitari Infantry and Gun Servitors jumped or simply dropped to the ground.

Specialist Adolphus Rho-2 never had the impulse to look back to the leaving transport. The optics that replaced his right eve superimposed a field of observation he was responsible for and the first point he was to reach. His squad exchanged orders in Binary and hand signals.
He was not slowed down by his stout carapace armor-augmetics and long training saw to that. Likewise his mind was not burdened with fear nor senseless questions about the higher sense of this action. While he had not been mindwiped like the Gun Servitors that made up the platoons heavy weapons component the hypnoconditioning and surgeries he had received had removed him far from the human norm in mind and limb.
He was a typical example of a Skitari, the near-human infantry employed by the Adeptus Mechanicum.

The Platoon made a good clip forward behind a screen of scouts till they reached the end of the lance-strikes zone. Here they slowed down to advance by squads, keeping overwatch and opening the space between the soldiers. A Marauder strike earlier had left a series of suitable ruins and craters into which company command send Rho-2`s platoon.
Others provided overwatch while he was tasked to provide firing positions for the gun servitors. The servitors were an Omnisiah-sanctioned fusion of man and machine. The upper body of a mindwiped convict had been crafted onto a tracked platform. The eyes of the servitor had been replaced by optics and their arms replaced by heavy weapons-in the case of this platoon, Heavy Bolters. The latter weapons were able to pierce the heaviest armor capable to be worn by humans and had excellent range and rate of fire. Yet for all of that they were unable to dig themselves decent firing positions that would expose them only so much as necessary-that the near-human Skitarii had to do.
Aldolfus did not mind the waiting. While he was not bothered by his lack of knowledge about the bigger picture orders were "Hold until relieved" and that was far easier if his unit was not attacked. In the beachhead defended by him and all the others screaming engines told the story of heavier transporters landing and disgorging their valuable cargo. Any minute they could be about their business undisturbed counted.
Of course it could not last-the enemy was tainted, spoken for by the fell powers and opposed the divine will of Omnisiah and God-Emperor-yet he was also brave, resourceful and clever.

Adolphus would not lift his eyes from his assigned sector, yet even so he could easily detect the upsurge in aerial dogfights and the ever-closer bombing runs by Marauder Bombers and gunships.
The only warning that the Mechanicus soldiers had was a freight-train rumble that was only audible for seconds before the world went mad. Terrible explosions ripped new craters all around the Skitarii line. While none too accurate any hit by the high-caliber grenades would wipe out a position like the one occupied by Adolphus.
The Skitari soldier did not see most of the explosions but felt them. It was a mark how far he had removed himself from "normal humanity" that he did not try to climb deeper into the crater that his squad occupied-he was already covered as much as possible while still being able to observe and shoot. And then none of that counted when his world got mad. He was thrown up from the ground and slammed down twice like a discarded toy and dirt thrown by the twin explosions that were oh so near covered him.

He needed several seconds to get his wits back together enough just to wipe the loam from his optic, grab his rifle and crawl back to the craters rim. He arrived there just in time. Behind the instant-poplar shapes of the artillery`s explosions came a line of yellow-black armored figures. Much bigger than him they seemed unfazed by the violence all around him and like robots moved in step towards his position.
His optics went to work then and offered aiming points for his Hellgun. While the puny Lasgun issued to the Guard would have next to no chance to penetrate the powered armor of the Traitor Marines his more powerful version offered at least a decent chance. Discharging his gun again and again he scored his that were shown by their infrared signature on the enemy-ad not much else. Sometimes the Marines flinched, sometimes they did not react at all-and very rarely did they fall.
A bout of smoke hid the enemy even from his optics and allowed him an opportunity for a look around. He found two of the gun servitors at the bottom of the crater on their sides, track spinning uselessly. This presented him with a dilemma-leaving his position was utterly forbidden-but so was losing the fight.

It took him two long seconds to make up his mind-and then he proved his maters decision to leave his mind nearly intact when he kicked another Skitarii and they pushed, heaved and kicked the Gun Servitors upright again with all power they could muster. They scrambled upwards to the craters rim just in time so see the approaching enemy open fire. The head of Adolphus helper vanished in an explosion of blood and bone and the Skitari himself could hardly shoot when a close miss pushed dirt and blood into his eyes.
The stutter of two heavy bolters at close range came as no surprise to him, but the vicious crossfire of the two heavy weapons went through the Traitors that had come so close like a scythe through wheat. The toneless chant of "Iron within, Iron without" never wavered-but it got much quieter when there so much fewer Marines left to utter it.
There was a second attack-while it had more Marines in it, it no longer was supported by artillery and more defenders had found their firing places again. Still there were losses, especially with the "meats" of the Skitari but the line held long enough for more support to arrive.

The first indication of this was a bright lightning that passed Adolphus on the left and the sun-bright plasma explosion that consumed a Marine squad. Rumbling engines and the vibrations of treads on the contested ground told the story of a unit of Leman Rus Battle Tanks that had arrived. Taking positions in craters and behind topples walls their firepower secured the line in ways that made the even this enemy pause-just not for long.
The change of affairs was heralded by a laser beam that was far too short to be seen directly but left an afterimage that showed its path. The armor that was spalled off the Leman Rus and the hasty deployment of smoke made much more of an impression. The Laser beam was not the last to search for targets and several missiles arched from the ruins beyond the Mechanicus lines towards the smoke deployed. A "Krumpf" and the sudden brightness that ensued inside the cloud spoke of at least one hit on a MBT.
The optics and the orders Adolphus received in holy binary left no space for interpretation-and few chances of personal survival. Which did not make him flinch-much. Together with the survivors of his squad he sprinted off to the enemy`s position while a vicious stream of bolt rounds from the gun servitors tried to keep the Chaos Space Marines heads down. The latter worked only moderately well as the Marines depended much more on their Power Armor than on taking cover. Still taking position allowed the Plasma gun armed Leman Rus to put a short-lived sun over a part of the enemy squad and that allowed half of Adolphus squad actually to reach the ruins alive.

Taking cover behind a half-toppled wall the Skitari tried to get his bearings. He could see nothing and the Mechanicus Soldier on the other end of the wall that extended his head too far died for that effort. Yet he did not die totally in vain as the sound of the shooting allowed Adolphus to pinpoint the Chaos Warriors. Dropping his rifle into its sling he primed two Krak Grenades and stood up as rapidly as possible. He found himself to the side of several hulking Space Marines in their grey and yellow armor. Throwing the Grenades one after the other he dropped for a low sprint before too much fire found him. The Grenades were originally made for killing armored vehicles, so that the one that actually hit had no real problems to blast the Marine inside the armor into so much jelly. Adolphus ran a zigg-zagg course, crouching as low as he dared, yet this mattered little to warriors who had trained for several centuries of warfare. One of the rounds that hit was actually defeated by the carapace armor, but threw him into the dirt. The other two removed his right arms close to the shoulder. Hurt beyond measure he hardly saw the tracer lines from the Gun Servitors that ended the long lives of the Chaos Space Marines. Lying on his back and waiting to die he wondered whether the artillery had set in again as strong tremors assaulted his already hurting back.

Turning his head he was graced by a sight that made it all worth the while-the fight his unit had been in had bought the time to unload the real hammer of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Incredibly unpractical and a huge waste of resources they Titans were nether the less highly imoressive and for a Skitary were the embodiment of the Mechanicum, the might of the Omnissiah made metal. More than 90 meters high several Warlord Titans followed their smaller scouting brethren into enemy-held territory. Powered by huge fusion reactors the war machines were protected by void shields and thick armor, their weapons would not have been out of place in a starship.
The path of destruction these engines of war tore through the enemy`s fortifications was a delight to behold for the Skitary, it nearly beat the feeling of being located by medics and getting treatment right away.
Adolphus Rho was very far removed from humanity, yet even he would have been amazed if he were to find out that all that he had seen was just a feint, a ruse and a distraction.

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And then there is the soundtrack of course:

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