Disclaimer: Don't own Code Geass or Warhammer.
A/N: And so begins another major arc! Hopefully, the lessons learned during the Craftworld Invasion arc will be of use for the Metal Monsters arc.
Additionally, we have not one, but two cameos in this arc! Be on the lookout for them!
Finally, insert shameless plug about the Code Geass 50k TVTropes page here. I'm taking a hands-off approach to that one, because I don't want my own perceptions tainting the tropes list.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Metal Monsters, Part II
Chaos Battleship Chaos Ascendant
017.M51, Day Two of the Battle of Mars
"My lord," the Chaos Champion cowered before the Despoiler's towering form, "An Imperial counterattack has driven the forces at Tharsis Plateau back into space."
Not a single thrall dared so much as breathe as Abaddon slowly turned around to face his subordinate. Several nearly tripped over their own feet backing away as his grip on Drach'nyen tightened, catching themselves at the last moment lest they catch their lord's attention.
"And why have we landed no additional forces to reopen that front?" the Champion of Chaos Undivided rumbled, clearly displeased.
"My lord," the traitor Astartes' shoulders noticeably tensed up, "The counterattack on the ground was followed by one in space. Imperial forces have closed the pocket."
"I see," Abaddon acknowledged in a dangerously quiet voice.
The Astartes' shoulders visibly sagged in relief as Abaddon loosened his grip and slowly turned away. Taking it as a sign to leave, the Champion cautiously stood up, wondering if he should thank his lord for showing mercy. Before he could blink, Drach'nyen reappeared in the Despoiler's hand and struck. The Chaos Space Marine looked down in shock as his abdomen split open, spilling his intestines out onto the deck. A second slash separated his head from his shoulders.
"Gather them up," Abaddon ordered nobody in particular as he motioned towards the spilled viscera, "Deliver them to my sorcerers. Tell them they'd best have results by tomorrow, lest their own entrails be used for the next divination."
As his thralls jumped to obey, the Despoiler turned and left the bridge. The loss of Tharsis would set him back, but he was far from finished.
Black Knights 15th Militia Field Headquarters
Three Hours Later
Though several hours had passed since his arrival, Lelouch could still sense the quiet awe that hung in the air. Even Colonel General Lilia Majka, a seasoned flag officer with decades of experience, was struck mute by his sudden appearance. CC's heels clicked against the thin sheet metal floors as she lead him through the corridors, the dozens of patrolling Knightmares parting to let her pass.
The sound of heels crashing against the floor echoed throughout the command post as Lelouch rounded the final corner. Two militiamen, standing ramrod-straight and weapons held at port arms, stood in front of the doors. The two Knightmares wordlessly parted to allow the two of them through.
Lelouch entered to find adequate, if spartan, quarters. Four more Knightmares stood watch within, one in each corner of the room. Two heads turned to track the new arrivals, while the other two remained facing the occupant. An unspoken truth hung in the air: the arrangements were a formality at best. Six guards and thin sheet metal walls had no chance of stopping a Primarch.
"Is this really necessary?" Lelouch asked nobody in particular.
"Just the regs, sir," one of the four answered.
"Leave us," CC ordered.
Without a word, the four militiamen filed out of the room. From how quickly their footsteps cut off, Lelouch reckoned they were waiting just outside. CC stayed near the perimeter of the chamber as Lelouch slowly approached the kneeling figure at its center. Dark-skinned and rippling with muscle, the Primarch easily stood taller than CC even while on his knees.
"Father," a booming voice echoed throughout the adjacent corridors, "You have called me back to your side. Have the End Times finally arrived?"
"Yes, my son, they have," Lelouch declared with the regality that once swayed entire civilizations to the Imperial Truth, "Your warriors are ready to march into the final battle. Are you ready to take your place at their head?"
"Yes, father," Vulkan slowly stood up from his meditative pose, "I am ready."
"Good," CC interjected, "I'll have Colonel General Majka's men return your arms and armor immediately."
The Primarch had never seen the coldly beautiful immortal before, yet he felt an instant sense of familiarity. Only once before had he experienced such a sensation: when he reunited with his father on Nocturne all those millennia ago. He shook his head to clear the thoughts as two militiamen entered the room, one pushing an antigravity platform bearing his power armor and the other carrying his massive warhammer.
Naturally reluctant to trust others with properly caring for his gear, Vulkan meticulously inspected each piece before donning it. A cold feeling ran down the Primarch's spine as he reached down to fasten his massive greaves. Every fiber of his body screamed of a Warp presence behind him, yet he felt soothed rather than revolted.
Ultramarines Staging Ground
Argyre Planatia, Surface of Mars
Roboute Guilliman surveyed the scene before him with a mixture of pride and sorrow. Not only the Ultramarines themselves, but also what remained of their myriad successor chapters, had gathered in hopes of catching a glimpse of their Primarch. They stood in neat ranks, their weapons and armor polished as well as they could manage. Yet, for every Chapter banner he recognized, a dozen more were missing.
"Brothers, do you accept this Oath of the Moment?" Guilliman boomed, his voice carrying far even without the aid of a vox caster, "As the foul legions of Chaos batter at the gates, do you swear to defend Mars and Holy Terra to your final breath? Do you swear to never take a single step back, to form a wall against which the tides of Chaos will break and shatter?"
"In the name of the Emperor, and on these weapons, we do so swear!" the assembled Astartes shouted in unison, raising their bolters and chainswords into the air.
Guilliman's spine tingled as he lowered his Power Fist. The air felt heavy with Warp-stuff, yet the Primarch sensed no malevolence. He felt warm breath tickling his ear, but his neck refused to turn. His limbs felt impossibly heavy and his throat unbelievably dry.
Imperial Defense Line
Cydonia Region, Surface of Mars
While the defenders of Tharsis focused on exhausting the invaders with static defenses, the forces at Cydonia allowed them to land. When the enemy had spread themselves thin amongst the region's labyrinthine valleys and sprawling mesas, they struck. Isolating small pockets of Abaddon's forces and utterly annihilating them with traps and ambushes, the Raven Guard and the 34th Militia Group inflicted a frightening toll on the enemy.
Burnt-out vehicles littered the valley floor as Astartes warriors and Black Knights militiamen combed through the aftermath. Enemy corpses were shot again or simply piled high and burned with flamers. The wounded were attended to and the dead underwent final rites. Amidst the activity, two figures walked side-by-side.
"Your men fight well, Lieutenant," Corax commented to the Knightmare beside him, "Had they been sons of Deliverance, I have no doubt they would have been Raven Guard."
Though he had faced down Dark Eldar, Orks, Tyranids, and daemons, Second Lieutenant Jarmil Dahl still felt intimidated by the Primarch. The dark-haired man towered over him, Knightmare and all. During the battle, a Khornate Berserker had overpowered the Lieutenant and began choking the life out of him. Corax effortlessly pried the genetically-enhanced servant of Chaos away and crushed him underfoot with all the regard one would give a particularly unpleasant insect.
"And had your Astartes been Black Knights, I would have been proud to have them in my platoon," Jamil carefully replied.
A sudden chill gave Corax pause. He could feel a presence inching up on both of them, yet the Lieutenant seemed unperturbed. From what he had pieced together, the Black Knights perceived the Warp differently, but the Primarch doubted their perception differed to the extent that they could simply ignore such a massive presence. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Jamil continued walking even as the well of power drew closer.
The Primarch of the Raven Guard felt a small hand touch his pauldron, but his throat constricted and his body refused to turn.
Imperial Defense Line
Syrtis Major Region, Surface of Mars
With a fearsome battle cry erupting from his lips, Lion El'Jonson rushed towards the group of traitor Astartes, his sword raised high. Bolt shells zipped past him, some coming close enough to singe his hair with their exhaust. As he drew closer, time seemed to slow. The Dark Angels fighting beside him moved as if walking underwater. Even his mighty swing gradually slowed until it came to a halt mere millimeters from the first traitor's helmet.
"Lion El'Jonson," a clear feminine voice called.
An involuntary shiver travelled up his spine as a presence slowly walked around him, staying just out of his peripheral vision. He sensed the touch of the Warp, yet he felt no taint.
White Scars Staging Ground
Ismenius Lacus Region, Surface of Mars
Though the sight of the Phoenix Lord Maugan Ra had initially turned a few heads, none of the White Scars dared speak up. Jaghatai Khan had declared the Eldar an honored guest, placing his yurt next to the Primarch's own. A large Eldar war host arrived soon afterwards, setting up camp near the Astartes'. If nothing else, the all-encompassing threat of Chaos and the mutual penchant for high-speed warfare kept relations between the camps cordial, if cold.
The Khan resided in a sparsely-furnished hut, barely distinguishable from the others. A mat barely large enough for his massive frame was crammed into one corner, with the majority of the interior taken up by a massive table laden with maps. The Primarch and the Phoenix Lord had spent countless hours poring over the Ismenius Lacus' terrain in hopes of finding additional ways to make life miserable for the rapidly-closing Chaos forces.
At the current moment, the topological charts lay forgotten. Jaghatai Khan and Maugan Ra stood frozen in place, their blades forced down by one willowy finger apiece. Disbelief overcame both of them as a lithe female stepped into their fields of view. Were it not for the mind-boggling Warp presence surrounding her, they would have taken her for some nobleman's pampered daughter. She greeted them by name and with a pleasant smile, as though she were meeting friends for afternoon tea.
"The forces of Chaos gather," she declared in a suddenly-grim voice, "The question to ask during the upcoming battle is not if Abaddon's invasion can be stopped, but for how long the defenses around Mars can delay it."
Space Wolves Staging Ground
Mare Boreum Region, Surface of Mars
A million questions ran through Leman Russ' mind. Who was this woman? How did she slip into feasting fall undetected? Why were none of his warriors reacting to her presence? Most puzzling of all, how was she drinking Mjod without vomiting her internal organs out?
"I've cast an illusion around us. So far as your Space Wolves are concerned, I'm not here and you are feasting enough for any ten of them," the intruder answered.
The Primarch's eyes bugged out as the dainty-looking pinkette downed the last of her drink and reached to refill the pilfered tankard. By the Emperor, he had seen Astartes struggle to keep the potent brew down!
"This is no longer a struggle to save the Imperium. Sickness has festered within its heart for too long, hopelessly corrupting your father's grand dream," the Guardian continued, "Do not fight for an already-dead Imperium, but for the chance to forge a new one."
"I will not stand idly by as you speak such insults, witch!" Russ roared, struggling against the psychic suggestion that held him in place.
"Abaddon marches on Mars with an army larger than any before it! The Black Crusades? The Age of Apostasy? The Horus Heresy? All dwarfed by the battle to come!" Euphemia roared, the fierceness of her tone giving even the Primarch pause, "In its glory days, the Imperium would have just barely stopped such an attack. Now? The only question is how long you can delay the inevitable."
"You either state the obvious or speak in riddles," Russ growled, "Did you come simply to mock us? Or do you have some more insidious purpose?"
"Argyre Planitia," the pinkette announced as she slowly faded from view, "Abaddon will attack Argyre Planitia. I have placed a Warp storm in their path, but it will delay the main invasion fleet's arrival by half a day at most. The vanguard fleet—among them the Despoiler's new flagship, the Chaos Ascendant—is arriving as we speak."
Chaos Battleship Chaos Ascendant
Vicinity of Mars
"Warp jump successful, my lord," a thrall meekly reported, "We have emerged within optimal weapons range of the planet."
"And what of the invasion fleet?" Abaddon snapped impatiently.
"A s-s-sudden Wa-Warp st-storm cut t-them off, my-my lord," the cultist stammered, nearly soiling himself as the Despoiler glared at him, "S-s-s-sev-several shi-shi-ships we-were de-destroyed tr-trying t-to na-navigate it."
"It appears my masters were displeased with the latest sacrifice," Abaddon rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a sadistic grin appearing on his face.
Several of the bridge crew died from sheer fright, and many others sank into their seats in a futile effort to turn invisible. The fortunate few stationed near the exit outright fled. Those that remained breathed a collective sigh of relief as Abaddon's sword remained resting against his command throne. However, even as he slowly turned towards the hololith, nobody dared relax just yet. He stared intently at the tactical map for several minutes, as if projecting his anger at the fleets around Mars. Finally, he pointed at a sizable concentration of Chaos warships over Mars' southern hemisphere. From the looks of it, they were attempting to mount a breakthrough.
"The flesh and souls of these incompetents will do nicely. Charge the vortex cannon."
'Yes, my lord."
Black Knights Dreadnought Jakarta
Orbit of Mars
"Enemy fleet rallying, sir," one of the sensor officers reported, "Looks like they're coming in for another attack."
"Don't let them get too close," Fleet Admiral Biondi ordered, "Tell all ships to fire at their discretion."
"Sir, sensors have detected additional warships emerging from the Warp," another technician announced moments later, "Visual data available."
"Put it up," Suzaku interjected.
Having been captured over titanic distances, the images were grainy—the inevitable byproduct of the Jakarta's computers repeatedly cropping and enhancing them—but adequate. Most of the ships were familiar Chaos and Imperial designs, but the battleship at the fleet's center caught Suzaku's attention. Consisting of impossible angles and curves, such a vessel could only be the product of the Warp's madness. Merely looking at it sent white-hot spears of pain shooting through the immortal's skull, and he clutched his head in agony.
"Sir, should I fetch a medic?" a nearby bridge officer rushed up to Suzaku.
"No," he gasped out, leaning on the officer for support, "I'll be fine. Kill the visual."
Though the pain gradually lessened, a dull throbbing at the back of his skull remained. He sensed that the new Chaos warship held secrets far more sinister than its maddening lines. In his millennia on the battlefield, he had witnessed all manner of foul sorceries and stomach-churning rituals. He had looked upon the revolting visages of Great Unclean Ones and beheld the terrible secrets locked within a Lord of Change's eyes, yet few had affected him as severely. It felt as though he were standing at the outskirts of an apocalyptically-powerful Warp storm.
"Sir," another bridge officer looked up confusedly, "We can't get a decent reading on the new arrivals. Something in that fleet's vicinity is playing merry havoc on our sensors."
Suzaku's eyes widened with terrible realization. He vaulted over the Fleet Admiral, launching over several console banks and landing at the communications station. Shoving aside a very surprised technician, he smashed the button for an all-channels broadcast.
"This is General Suzaku Kururugi to all 21st Fleet units, emergency tactical jump! Now!"
An ordered chaos reigned on the Jakarta's bridge. Hurried status reports were shouted across every channel as the ship's skimmer drive charged at a borderline-dangerous rate. Friendly ships disappeared from the tactical map by the dozens. They jumped at random vectors to random destinations, so long as said destinations were located outside of their current sector. Confused requests for status updates began pouring in from allied warships.
"Get our allies on the line! Tell them to clear the area if they want to live!"
"Warp incursion detected!"
Built with forbidden knowledge unlocked from the Blackstone Fortresses, the Chaos Ascendent's main gun was a horrific weapon against which there existed no defense. Driven by twisted perversions of ancient Eldar technology and sorceries most foul, the vortex cannon unleashed the fury of the Warp upon Abaddon's enemies. It tore the already-weakened veil between reality and madness to shreds, allowing the abominations beyond to pour through.
The Black Knights' timely warnings saved some allied warships, but many more met gruesome fates. The titanic currents of the Immaterium smashed kilometers-long battleships into twisted scrap. The clashing forces crushed others into microscopic specks or pulled their hulls in a million different directions. A billion damned souls could only scream as daemons dragged them towards an eternity of torment. Not even the ships at the storm's edge were spared, as tendrils of Warp-stuff snaked from the tear in reality and pulled them to their doom.
Imperial Battleship Emperor's Vengeance
Lower Mars Orbit
Lord Admiral Nolan Giarputto coughed, adding more blood to the rapidly-congealing mess on his uniform. Every nerve felt as though it was ablaze, and each breath he took only worsened the pain. Trying to open his eyes, he could only see pitch blackness. The image of a live wire flying across the bridge and striking him across the face swam up through the pain-induced haze. With great effort, he tried to shift his mangled body, only to find that a jagged piece of shrapnel had impaled him to the bulkhead. Even if he had the strength to pull it out, doing so would have done little good: a massive girder had also landed across his lap, shattering both his legs.
Pained coughing and the sound of a body dragging itself across the floor caught Nolan's attention, and he turned to face the direction of the noise.
"C-Captain A-Aer-Aerss-sens?" he choked out.
"The Ca-Cap-Captain's dead," the other voice gasped in response, "Fl-flying sheet of me-met-metal to-took his he-head off."
"C-can you see?" the Lord Admiral whispered, a desperate idea forming.
"Y-yes, L-Lo-Lord Admiral."
"I ne-need you to fi-find the naviga-navigation sta-station. See if the Wa-Warp Drive is still op-oper-operational."
Pained grunts filled the bridge, and Nolan could hear the other survivor slowly stand up. He heard several crashes followed by weak swearing, then silence. He sank back against the bulkhead, fearing the worst.
"I-it's g-go-good for one more j-jump," the other voice informed him, "B-but it'll rip the sh-shi-ship apart…"
"D-does-doesn't matter," Nolan coughed up more blood, "Pr-program it for th-that blas-blast's or-ori-origin. Th-the-they mus-musn't fi-fire that wea-weapon again…"
Only the sounds of mangled hands tapping the keys one-by-one told the Lord Admiral that his companion had not succumbed. The blaring klaxons that told the crew to prepare for Warp jump had never sounded sweeter to the old man's ears.
"What's your name, son?" Nolan asked on a whim, the pain slowly fading.
"I ne-never had one, L-Lord Admiral…"
"That simply won't do," the dying Lord Admiral chuckled, "How about 'Aras'? If I ever had a son, I would have named him that…"
"Th-thank you, Lord Ad-Admiral," the newly-christened Aras blinked back tears.
"Well, then, Aras," Nolan whispered as the final countdown to Warp jump began, "Care to lead an old man in the Emperor's Prayer?"
"The Emperor is my savior…"
"All hands, prepare for Warp jump in three."
"He is my protector…"
"Two."
"With the Emperor at my side, I shall fear nothing…"
"One."
Chaos Battleship Chaos Ascendant
Vicinity of Mars
"My lord, the main fleet reports that the Warp storms are subsiding!" a Champion of Nurgle knelt before Abaddon's command throne.
"Good. How long until they arrive?"
"Warmaster Aruthotil reports that a wave of troops will arrive through the Warp rift momentarily, my lord," the bloated Astartes wheezed, "However, the Warp storms intensified shortly after he dispatched the first convoy. He estimates a six-hour delay on the second wave."
"Too long," Abaddon rumbled, causing the Champion to shrink away, "What's the status of the vortex cannon?"
"Charging for a second shot, my lord," a nearby thrall nearly stammered, "Ninety seconds remaining!"
Abaddon stood up, Drach'nyen still perched against his command throne. The Nurglite Chaos Space Marine scampered out of the Despoiler's path as he strode over to the tactical map. His eyes hungrily scanned the readout, seeking a suitable group of enemies and incompetents to offer his masters. The last sacrifice dwarfed some Imperial worlds and included many of the accursed Black Knights, yet it had not pleased the Ruinous Powers enough for them to lift the sudden Warp storm. The next offering would have to be massive in scale. Perhaps if he turned the vortex cannon on the planet itself…
A collision alarm interrupted the Despoiler's train of thought. Before he could demand a status report, the entire ship rocked. Abaddon was thrown off his feet, flying backwards and smashing the Champion of Chaos between his massive bulk and his command throne. Several thralls flew forward and dashed their skulls against their consoles or were thrown from their seats.
"Damage report!" Abaddon demanded.
"Imperial battleship, Emperor-class, my lord!" one of the few surviving bridge crew frantically relayed, "It dropped out of the Warp right on top of us and rammed us! Extreme damage in all bow compartments, and the vortex cannon is offline!"
The Despoiler unleashed a furious roar, grabbing the unfortunate thrall and holding him before his face. As the tattooed and mutilated cultist begged for mercy, Abaddon's massive hands ripped off each of his limbs before twisting his head off. He dropped the torso to the ground and turned to face his stunned crew.
"Have somebody clean this mess up, and get a new crew up here!" he barked, "Plot a course to…"
As he turned around, Abaddon saw the Chaos Ascendant's late helmsman slumped over the console, an unrecognizable pulp replacing his face. Growling, the Despoiler seized the corpse and smashed it against the wall. Glancing around, he snatched the closest thrall and deposited the surprised woman into the helmsman's chair.
"We're withdrawing. Plot a course to the rally point," he growled, "And if you can't operate your new station, I suggest you learn before my patience runs out!"
Black Knights Attack Craft Callsign: Mamba Leader
Skies Above Argyre Planitia, Mars
"Hold formation! Don't lose sight of each other!"
With sensor and pilot alike blinded by the fury of the vortex cannon, midair collisions exacted a frightening toll on airborne units. Entire squadrons were reduced to flaming wrecks during the first few chaotic moments. Even after the storms began subsiding and some semblance of order was established, the blast's aftereffects continued wreaking merry havoc on the remaining aerial forces. Many Eldar pilots either passed out at their controls or had their souls outright ripped from their bodies by the shockwaves, clogging the skies with hundreds of hypersonic dumbfire missiles. More than one Imperial craft turned into impromptu battlefields as those whose minds were destroyed by the Warp's madness attempted to wrestle control from their still-sane counterparts. Even the hardened sensor suites aboard Black Knights and Tau craft failed to escape unscathed, forcing the pilots to navigate with little more than their own eyesight.
Mamba Leader counted five surviving craft, and her heads-up display confirmed as much. The earlier fighting had claimed five of her pilots, another had died outright when the storm hit, and two more were lost to midair collisions. Allied aircraft blindly thrashed about, huddling together in hopes of finding safety, and Mamba Squadron soon found a gaggle of Imperial, Eldar, and Tau aircraft following it. The residual radiation made long-range communications and sensor sweeps impossible, reducing them to the most rudimentary of methods. Aircraft navigated by following the one in front of them and talked via tight-beam laser broadcasts and military flash code.
"Damn! Three o'clock, angels high! That cruiser's not breaking up!
A macabre meteor shower dominated the skyline as mortally wounded warships broke up and deorbited, the debris burning up in the atmosphere. Mamba Leader slowly turned her head up and to the right, her breath hitching as she spied the massive form of a Lunar-class cruiser plunging through the upper atmosphere. It was only the stern section, and she could see that it was rapidly shedding mass even from such a distance. At the same time, she could also see that it wasn't breaking up fast enough and that an impact would have catastrophic effects on the ground forces.
"Mamba Squadron, accelerate to interception velocity and weapons free," she ordered as her wingmen relayed the message to their allies, "We can't let that cruiser hit the ground in one piece."
As she opened the throttle and floored the accelerate, Mamba Leader tried her best to not think of the tens of thousands doubtlessly still left alive aboard the doomed ship. From what she knew of Imperial ship design, many were probably not even aware of their impending deaths. She pictured them dutifully loading the cruiser's massive guns with muscle and chain, awaiting an order to fire that would never come.
Black Knights 15th Militia Field Headquarters
Tharsis Region, Surface of Mars
Lelouch could only stare at the tactical map in wide-eyed shock as the casualty reports continued rolling in. The running count was superimposed over the main display, and it continued soaring with no signs of slowing down. Imperial casualties had already reached the tens of millions, and Black Knights losses easily topped tens of thousands. Factoring in the losses sustained by the Eldar and Tau, and more people had died in just the last ten minutes than the entirety of the Great War.
To Lelouch's ears, the normally-quiet beep that accompanied a major tactical map update sounded like the shrillest of klaxons. Chaos warships burst forth from Altansar, cutting into the wound and opening it wider. Dozens of confused and panicked communications played over one another as the surviving space forces attempted to piece their shattered chain of command back together. As the Emperor of Mankind watched helplessly on long-range sensors, the corrupted Craftworld's massive bulk inched towards Mars. The few ships that managed to regroup either scattered or were destroyed as Craftworld Altansar settled in upper Martian orbit.
"This is the Jakarta. We have sustained extreme damage and are deorbiting! Repeat, we have sustained extreme damage and are deorbiting!"
"Chaos resistance is too heavy! We can't break through!"
"The Jakarta's breaking up in the atmosphere!"
The strength left Lelouch's legs, and he slowly sank to his knees. Vulkan maintained a respectful distance while CC placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Lelouch watched mutely as a stream of red triangles, no doubt the first wave of an invasion force, emerged from the Warp rift within Altansar and made for the planet surface.
A/N: So...can we say shit is now getting real? Is Abaddon not such an incompetent fuckwit after all? Is Suzaku actually dead? What are the "metal monsters"? Are you reading this in a movie trailer voice?