Disclaimer: Unless I have been lied to all my life, Code Geass and Warhammer 40k are not mine.
A/N: Quick! Another chapter, before I need to go back! Oh, and the opening scene of this chapter is basically one long homage to a movie. Guess which one it is, and you get an imaginary internet cookie! Anyhow, let's bid 2015 farewell with an extra-long chapter! Clocking in at almost 6400 words, because a lot of shit's gonna go down!
I'd also like to take this opportunity to give a big shout-out to Setokaiva, who has been invaluable to spotting all the spelling, grammatical, formatting, and continuity errors (when you keep assigning and reassigning callsigns, sometimes dead characters end up talking over the radio...) I make. He has been immortalized in the 50k-verse as Xander Burkhart, so keep an eye out!
Chapter Thirty-Three: Metal Monsters, Part VIII
Southern Front, Argyre Planitia
Seven Hours Prior
The men of the 78th Assault Korps knew they were dead men walking. Such feelings were not unusual: hailing from the radiation-scorched world of Krieg, their deaths were never a question of if, but when. However, the men all knew they would not live to see the siege's end, perhaps not even to the next evening. Their dinner that evening had been particularly hearty—vat-grown meat and some reconstituted yellow slop that the men had never seen before but ate with great relish—and the Ministorum Priests consigned their souls to the Emperor's side during evening prayers. The distant rumbling of artillery had slowly died down over the past several hours, the near-constant barrages slowing to occasional volleys to continue suppressing the enemy.
The front line had moved so suddenly and advanced so quickly that there was no time for the 78th Assault Korps to dig new trenches, nor was there any need to. The 33rd Siege Army was dug in at the 78th's rear, and two more Assault Korps were busily setting up a second belt of trenches while they awaited the inevitable call to reinforce the 78th. The soldiers of Krieg marched shoulder-to-shoulder behind columns of Leman Russ tanks. None visibly reacted as a wing of Marauder Destroyers roared overhead—their altitudes a hair lower than the flight manuals would recommend—but many stood a little straighter.
The formation ground to a halt as the sounds of artillery fire intensified. A formation of Vultures screamed past, no doubt on their way to compound the enemy's misery with further applications of incendiaries and high explosives. Though even the forge complex's tallest spires were still hidden over the horizon, the smoke from countless fires choked the air and rose into the Martian sky in great, angry columns. The enemy's morale surely neared the breaking point, and the men of Krieg were ready to deliver the final bow.
"Sturm! Sturm! Sturm!" tens of thousands of voices simultaneously roared.
A wave of rockets screamed out of the sky, raining down on the forge complex beyond the horizon. Chaos counterbattery fire and airstrikes had claimed a great many of the improvised artillery pieces, but the hastily-erected rockcrete shelters saved many more, and the vehicles were easily replaceable anyhow.
"Sturm! Sturm! Sturm!" the soldiers roared again, thrusting their fists into the air for emphasis.
The second and final wave of rockets rained down, and silence fell over the men of the 78th Assault Korps. Seconds passed, with only the sound of idling engines filling the void, and grips tightened on lasguns as they awaited the whistle.
The sound of Leman Russ tanks lurching into motion nearly drowned out the shrill note.
Bond Crater
Surface of Mars
Suzaku grunted as the massive blade was stopped mere centimeters from his body. Whatever doubts he had regarding the weapon's daemonic nature were dispelled as he weathered an assault on two fronts: the Daemon Primarch attempting to cleave him in two and the daemon bound to the blade attempting to corrupt his soul. Angron's titanic strength was promptly turned against him as, with a flick of the wrist, Suzaku's Force Sword batted his arm to the side. The Knightmare-clad General leapt back as the Black Blade buried itself in the dust, drawing his assault rifle and bringing it to bear as he landed.
Roaring with anger, Angron relinquished the blade and charged Suzaku, smashing a fist into his shooting arm as the weapon discharged, sending the shot wide. Knocked off balance, the General staggered momentarily, and only his prodigious psychic power kept his bone structure intact as the fallen Primarch's fist closed around his forearm. His other arm lashed out, altering the trajectory of Angron's other incoming fist by the few degrees necessary to keep his head on his shoulders. Turning his opponent's strength against him yet again, Suzaku used the Daemon Prince's grip as a lever to swing his lower body upwards and aim a roundhouse kick at his opponent's head.
In avoiding the blow, Angron's grip slackened sufficiently for Suzaku to free his arm, and the two combatants sprang apart. The fallen Primarch found his footing first and managed to free his daemonic sword from its imprisonment moments before a quartet of Slash Harkens blindsided him. He batted the first aside with the Black Blade, only for it to double back and charge him again. Feeling a rush of adrenaline greater than any he had felt since the Dominion of Fire, the Daemon Primarch didn't so much as flinch when one of the remote-guided missiles pierced his upper arm. As he reached to pull it out, another Slash Harken impacted the back of his knees while a third buried itself in his thigh. Angron glanced up to see Suzaku crossing his arms over his chest and had only a moment to wonder the gesture's significance before the fourth Slash Harken smashed into the back of his head, causing his grip on the Black Blade to slacken as an unseen force yanked him towards the white Knightmare.
The Lancelot's green wings were blindingly fast, even by Space Marine standards, but Angron had learned to track them. He parried the first slash with ease, and the dozen that followed it proved no more challenging. As soon as the wings drew back for an instant in preparation for a second onslaught, the Daemon Prince of Khorne struck. Suzaku's vision swam as a massive fist smashed into the side of his head. Panting from anger rather than exhaustion, Angron yanked the Slash Harkens from his flesh and drew strength from the renewed pain. He snatched the Lancelot's left wing in the thousandth of a second between the limb lashing out and the meson field "feathers" forming. A punishing blow to the stomach followed, and the wing separated from the Lancelot with a squeal of tortured metal and a shower of sparks.
"The Blood God accepts all blood as a sacrifice!" Angron roared as he once again retrieved his blade, "Even that of his Champions!"
Suzaku shakily staggered to his feet and only had time to draw his Force Swords and throw them up in a sloppy guard before Angron was once again upon him.
Black Knights Drop Shuttle Dark Angel
Skies Above Argyre Planitia
The flight crew sat in a separate compartment, and Agrippa had only briefly glimpsed them as she boarded the drop shuttle, but the trio had patched the Sororitas into the local communications network. Unlike an Imperial warship, where every Warp jump was a terrifying event, the only indication the Prioress had that they ever entered the Warp was the commander's unnervingly-calm voice announcing imminent transition. Even the buffeting that accompanied them exiting in Mars' atmosphere—yet another feat the Imperium never dared dream of that the Black Knights treated as mundanity—proved rougher than their Warp jump. The commander's voice never changed even as he announced that enemy anti-aircraft batteries had locked on to them, and the only other indication they had entered hostile airspace—besides the slight rumbling of deckplates from near-misses and the acceleration of evasive maneuvers—was the three similarly-silent gunners disappearing belowdecks to man their turrets. Looking at them from the outside, Agrippa Laelia would never have expected the Black Knights' Sleipnirs to handle so smoothly.
"We have made our final pass over the LZ. Ramp down in one minute."
As the lights within the passenger compartment dimmed, many a Sororitas was taken back to their first combat drop and correspondingly gripped their bolters tighter. Though she knew that it would likely mark an imminent fiery death, Agrippa silently wished something would happen to make the shuttle crew vary their voices. She'd seen Astartes pilots exhibit more emotion! The jarring that accompanied touchdown derailed the Prioress' thoughts.
"Ramp's down! Deploy!"
The Emperor, two Squad Zero members, and the six Custodians that the Captain-General insisted accompany him were already halfway down the ramp while the Sororitas were still rising from their acceleration couches. Its hadron fields lowered, the drop shuttle shook as all manner of ordnance bounced off its thick flank armor. Stubber rounds bounced off with rapid-fire pings, punctuated by the sizzling of lascannon bolts melting the plating millimeter by millimeter. An earth-shattering boom rocked the entire shuttle, nearly throwing several Sororitas off their feet as the dimmed lights flickered off for a brief moment.
"Ah…be advised that the enemy has a krak missile launcher dug in at nine o'clock."
Solid ground beneath her boots never felt as good to Agrippa as it did when she hopped off the shuttle's deployment ramp. Forty Battle Sisters stormed down the ramp behind her, rapidly fanning out and taking whatever cover they could: bombed-out buildings, piles of rubble, even shell craters. Lasbolts and stubber rounds poured from every direction, and hundreds of bolters barked in response. A krak missile corkscrewed through the air, right into the passenger compartment of a drop shuttle still disgorging its passengers. Agrippa did her utmost to ignore the screams of the wounded and the maimed, knowing that aiding them would only lead to more casualties.
The Emperor purposefully strode towards a particularly well-defended building, not so much as slowing his pace even as every cultist in the pavilion gradually focused their fire on him. The very essence of the Immaterium whirled around his body at blinding speeds, intercepting lasbolts and bullets with contemptuous ease. A pair of krak missiles streaked through the air towards the Shinkirou, but the warning in Agrippa's throat died as the projectiles swerved wildly off-course and harmlessly detonated. Raising one arm, Lelouch poured long streams of plasma into the windows of the bombed-out building, and the return fire slackened somewhat.
A squad of Sisters broke cover and sprinted across the pavilion while the enemy's attentions were otherwise occupied.
"Flamers! Move in!" the Sister-Superior barked as she kicked in the hab block door.
The whoosh of burning promethium nearly drowned out the agonized screams of cultists set alight. Shouldering their bolters, the remaining Sisters filed in behind the vanguard. The barking of bolters and the smell of burning flesh filled the air as the enemy fire rapidly slackened then stopped entirely. The Sister-Superior appeared at the top floor moments later, signing the all-clear to her comrades below.
"The Iron Warriors have undoubtedly rallied reinforcements already," Agrippa Laelia nearly jumped out of her power armor as the Emperor's voice issued from just behind her, "We should get out of here."
Chaos Battle Barge Iron Blood
Orbit of Mars
"My lord," an Iron Warriors Chaos Space Marine cautiously approached Peturabo's throne and dropped to one knee, "An urgent report has arrived from the Argyre Planitia siege forces."
"And?" the Daemon Primarch snapped impatiently.
"Hill Beta-Epsilon-Beta Bravo has stopped the Imperial attack, but their armored forces are almost completely destroyed," in an uncharacteristic display of emotion, the traitor Astartes gulped, "A Krieg Assault Korps is currently undertaking an offensive approximately ninety kilometers to the west. Beta-Epsilon-Beta Bravo is unable to reinforce, and the Imperials have already punched through the first belt of trenches. The second line reports they cannot hold much longer."
"I hope, for your sake," the fallen Primarch rumbled, gripping the Forgebreaker more tightly for emphasis, "That there is also good news."
"Yes, my lord!" the Iron Warrior quickly responded, "We have traced the enemy communications and believe we have located their command center!"
"Excellent. Inform those responsible that I will expand their slave pits and fill them to capacity at my expense," Peturabo allowed an undertone of glee to seep into his voice, "Now leave me. I must make preparations to decapitate the beast."
"Yes, my lord! Thank you, my lord!" the Astartes backed away, dizzy with the boon his Primarch had awarded him.
"My lord!" a second Iron Warrior pushed past the first and dropped to one knee before Peturabo's throne.
Peturabo signaled for the Astartes to continue.
"My Lord, a wave of enemy reinforcements has arrived from Terra! A man claiming to be the Emperor is among them!"
A recording of Lelouch's proclamation boomed throughout the Iron Blood's command center.
"Order all Iron Warriors forces currently at Argyre Planitia to converge on that strike force's last known position!" Peturabo roared as he strode past the messengers to address the communications technicians directly, "Inform all Terminator squads to prepare for Deep Strike!"
There was always the possibility that the newly-arrived Emperor was a fake, but the sheer power and charisma behind his words…distant memories of the Great Crusade drifted to the forefront of the traitor Primarch's mind. A chill travelled up his spine, one he quickly quashed. He needed to deal with the enemy command first, deprive the Emperor of any additional forces to rally.
Bond Crater
Surface of Mars
A great gap had opened at the center of the melee as the Black Knights General and the World Eaters Primarch clashed. Early in the battle, a few World Eaters and Thousand Sons rushed into the fray, only to be sliced to ribbons—either accidentally or intentionally—as soon as they entered the combatants' swing arcs. After some time, the Fleet Admiral of the 21st Battle Fleet and the Captain of the Jakarta happened upon the scene and discouraged further attempts to intervene with blade and blaster. Thoughts of claiming Suzaku's skull were soon discarded by the traitor Astartes in favor of slaying the two naval officers.
Though he would never show it, Suzaku was starting to tire. Fighting a physical and mental battle sapped his stamina alarmingly quickly, though Angron looked little better. The red giant sucked in great breaths, every muscle rippling as he regathered his strength. Where the Primarch was strength, the General was precision. Suzaku flowed around Angron's powerful smashes and swipes, using his opponent's strength and weight against him to create openings. Cracks and gouges crisscrossed the Daemon Primarch's Warp-forged cuirass, testament of a dozen strikes that failed to penetrate the daemonically-infused metal. The daemonic equivalent of blood flowed from just as many holes in the Daemon Prince's armor, testament of a dozen strikes that succeeded in piercing the Warp-infused metal.
Suzaku's front foot twisted slightly, a move lost even to Angron's senses, before he launched into a renewed attack. The one-time Knight of Zero started high, baiting his opponent into a horizontal strike. The massive blade missed Suzaku by millimeters, shearing off the Lancelot's horn. Though Suzaku secretly admitted his signature kick looked just a little ridiculous, and had allowed generations of militiamen believe him ignorant of the "Spinzaku" moniker, its effectiveness was beyond question. The devastating spin kick Angron had thought was aimed at his head impacted his greaves, shattering the Warp-forged metal and staggered the massive Daemon Prince.
The immortal did not relent, digging a hand into the loose Martian soil and twisting his body around to strike Angron's thigh with his heel. Regaining his footing, Suzaku drove one of his Force Swords up to the hilt through the Daemon Prince's breastplate. The awkward angle meant he only nicked the fallen Primarch's flesh, but the rapidly-expanding cracks on the cuirass told him he had accomplished his goal. The General stood up, simultaneously using the flat of his second blade to bat Angron's second swing aside, and smashed a fist into his opponent's nearly-broken breastplate. The Warp-forged metal began crumbling, and a swift kick to the grip of his embedded Force Sword sped up the process. With a roar of triumph, Suzaku reversed the grip on his second sword and smashed the pommel into the daemonically-infused armor, finally shattering it.
Angron stumbled back, his daemonic features somehow twisting into something recognizable as shock. The Lancelot's eyes glowed brighter as its wearer channeled all his psychic might through the Knightmare's circuits and into his Force Sword. Lightning crackled around the blade, and Suzaku charged.
Suzaku noticed Fleet Admiral Biondi, unconscious but alive, flying past him a split second before a gout of Warp-summoned lightning blindsided him.
Argyre Planitia Forge
Surface of Mars
"There's too many of them! Fall back! We need to fall ba-," a few incoherent screams, then static.
Aureliana wasn't sure which frightened her more: the increasingly-panicked transmissions so suddenly cut off, or their lack of knowledge of the situation. When the Emperor's voice boomed throughout the forge complex, the defenders of Argyre Planitia dared hope. Word of a massive force of Battle Sisters touching down and making their way up from the southern front, the Emperor himself at their head, was the last transmission they had received before the screaming started. Only two facts were for sure: a massive attack force was crashing through Argyre Planitia's defenses, and judging from the pattern of units going silent, their bombed-out hab block was next.
They had long since lost count of the days. Any hope of liberation or extraction was quashed within the first weeks of the siege. They pooled what weapons remained, distributed their remaining stocks of ammunition, patched up their armor as best they could. Two dozen Sisters and Skitarii silently commended their souls to the Emperor and the Omnissiah, then took their positions.
The growling of an armored vehicle's engine reached their ears long before they sighted the enemy.
"Over on the left flank! Traitors!" the Sister next to Aureliana whispered as she passed the binoculars.
"Let them come a little closer. Lasguns won't do much against power armor at this range," a nearby Skitarii interjected, almost inaudible over the noise.
"That's a Land Raider!" Aureliana nearly yelled as the box-shaped monstrosity navigated the mounds of rubble by simply crashing through them.
"Prometheus pattern," the Skitarii Tribune added, "Nothing we have will even put a scratch on that thing."
Two dozen pairs of eyes were fixed on the pavilion as the Land Raider ground to a halt and disembarked the ten traitor Astartes within to join the handful outside.
It was over in seconds. A storm of heavy bolter fire perforated the hab block, reducing many of the defenders to fine red mist. Fragmentation missiles followed, streaking through the numerous holes in the rockcrete walls and detonating within. The walls that had protected the defenders for nearly two months finally succumbed to the weight of accumulated damage, and the hab block collapsed.
"That's a Prometheus," Xander whistled, "Never thought I'd ever actually see one."
Xander Burkhart had heard of the near-mythical Space Marine command vehicles before, one of many technologies that humanity had long since lost the ability to replicate. He'd heard several Tech-Priests engage in spirited debates regarding the pattern's origin, perhaps the only time he had heard them exhibit any emotion. One of them even claimed a Space Marine chapter had once been able to field four of the things. Xander scoffed at the assertion, but he hid it from the Tech-Priests and he didn't care enough to argue about it.
"Let them be," the Catachani held out an arm as the traitor Astartes below opened fire on an adjacent hab block, "Nothing we can do for them."
"It must've been separated from the main convoy," one of the Sentinel pilots speculated, "There don't seem to be any more escorts, and nobody leaves their command vehicle guarded by a dozen men, Space Marines or no."
They didn't even need to pause: the survivors were already climbing into their Sentinels.
Xander had never seen Catachan. No Catachani alive had seen the infamous Death World: the hammer of Exterminatus had felled it many millennia ago. The Night Reaper strapped to his shoulder, once a staple of every Catachani's arsenal, was now one of perhaps several thousand left in the galaxy. Though much of Catachani culture was now lost, each generation of Jungle Fighters imparted on their children without fail their blasé attitudes towards death. Not a single member of Xander's regiment had expected to leave Mars: either their luck would simply run out one day, or they would be pleasantly surprised. Their guerilla war against the forces besieging Argyre Planitia had claimed a truly frightening toll, but the casualties quickly added up: only five Sentinels remained out of Xander's entire regiment.
They had only moments to strike: the Prometheus had no doubt moved into the pavilion in search of a stronger vox signal, and reinforcements were almost certainly en route. Eight roads fed into the pavilion, but earlier bombardment rendered all but three of them impassable. Xander held the only melta bomb remaining between the five pilots, and there was no time to examine nearby hab blocks for demolition. Hunter-Killer Missiles and prayers to the Emperor would have to do.
"All units in position?" a chorus of affirmatives in response, "Pick your targets and fire on my mark."
Three of the Sentinels were stationed at the edges of the pavilion, their pilots seeking out whatever building looked like it could produce enough rubble to block a street. Xander and the final Sentinel pilot stayed closer to the center, their Hunter-Killer Missiles aimed at the Prometheus itself.
"Three," the Catachani began counting as soon as his computer confirmed a target lock, "Two. One. Now!"
From his vantage point, Xander could see the traitor Astartes whirl around in surprise as Hunter-Killer missiles corkscrewed through the air. Two had found sufficiently-vital support beams in their targeted buildings to bring them down. Burkhart wasn't sure if anything could stop a Land Raider, but enough rubble choked the streets to at least slow the monster down. The third warhead failed to detonate, but a fourth missile slamming into the Prometheus' side and blowing its tread off made any discussion of escape purely academic. Xander directed every swear he knew—and he had picked up quite a few on the ship to Terra—at his Sentinel as error messages blinked crazily on his monitor. The missile was armed, but a failure in the release mechanism prevented it from actually launching.
Ignoring the explosives hanging literally next to him, Xander took his Sentinel out of silent running mode and leapt into the fray. One of the Land Raider's heavy bolters was now effectively out of action, but that still left another sponson-mounted heavy bolter and a pintle-mounted storm bolter to contend with. His Sentinel's hydraulics barely decompressed in time for Bukhart to twist the bipedal scout vehicle to the side, snapping off a lascannon shot as a stream of bolt shells passed the air his cockpit had occupied moments ago. The lasbolt went wide of the Prometheus but reduced one of the Iron Warriors to a ring of ash on the ground.
"Focus on the ones with missile launchers!"
Another lascannon bolt slammed into the Prometheus' side, melting the thick hull armor but ultimately failing to penetrate. The traitor Astartes quickly recovered from the initial shock and quickly formed a defensive perimeter around their Land Raider. The Sentinels scattered as two missiles corkscrewed through the air, passing between the agile scout vehicles and detonating against rockcrete. Heavy bolters barked in retaliation, blowing one traitor's arm off and vaporizing half of another's torso. The Sentinels wove between the streams of bolt shells, only pausing long enough to squeeze off a few shots at a time. Even above the din, Xander heard the low whining of a plasma cannon moments before the bolt of white-hot ionized gas streaked past his Sentinel. It flash-vaporized one of the missile launcher-toting Astartes before impacting the Land Raider, reducing the sponson-mounted heavy bolter to slag.
"Smokes out!"
The smoke grenades wouldn't confuse the traitors for long, but the second spent on swapping to heat-see was all the Catachanis needed. A long stream of promethium entered the cloud, fanning side to side and only stopping when the Sentinel's tank emptied. Xander noted the several burning figures, screeching in agony as the flames seeped through gaps in their armor, with grim satisfaction. A percussive bang accompanied fragmentation grenades cooking off from the intense heat, and a scorched helmet bounced out of the now-dissipating smoke. A krak missile streaked into the cloud, detonating against what the Catachanis hoped was the Prometheus' side armor.
The surviving Iron Warriors quickly recovered, tightening up their formation and loosing short bursts of bolter fire. Xander winced as several bolt shells perforated a neighboring Sentinel, its pilot missing his arm and a chunk of his torso and gurgling in agony for far too long before falling silent. His retaliatory spray of bolt shells sailed over the Astartes' heads, but one arced just low enough to blow the Land Raider's storm bolter to pieces. One of the scorched Iron Warriors was still writhing weakly, but only a half-dozen traitors remained standing. The earlier krak missile failed to penetrate, but the lascannon shot that followed punched through the weakened section of armor. Stacatto pops accompanied the flames that leapt from the wound in the Land Raider's side as the compromised magazine's payload cooked off. The Prometheus' hulls were too thick for the bolt shells to penetrate, but the danger of rogue ammunition loosened up the Iron Warriors' formation.
"Incomi-," the Sentinel pilot didn't even have time to admire his handiwork as a krak missile blew his cockpit apart.
A plasma bolt screamed towards the Iron Warriors, passing well over the traitor Astartes and the Land Raider itself to splash against the hab block's remains, but the intense heat melted the delicate communications and auspex equipment encrusting the Prometheus' top. The Sentinel deftly evaded the retaliatory fire, blowing large holes in one of the traitors with a lengthy burst of its own heavy bolter. A bolt shell from Xander towards the tunnel-visioning Astartes reduced one's head to a shower of gore. The Catachani once again heard the low whine of a charging plasma cannon, followed by an ominous pop.
The two pilots shared a look of wide-eyed horror before the doomed Sentinel leapt towards the Iron Warriors in one final death-and-glory suicide run. A desperate barrage of bolt shells perforated the cockpit but succeeded only in speeding up the containment failure. The tiny short-lived star that bloomed in the pavilion vaporized one Iron Warrior outright and opened a great wound in the Land Raider's side. The other remaining traitor fell to the ground, clawing at his armor as the white-hot plasma seeped through.
"Wasn't there one mo-," Xander's muttered musings were cut off as a lascannon bolt missed him by centimeters and annihilated the other surviving Sentinel.
"I will ensure you only know agony in your final moments," an Iron Warrior in power armor more elaborate than his comrades' emerged from the passenger compartment, hefting a lascannon over his shoulder, "as I carve your still-beating heart from your chest!"
Something in Xander's gut told him to move, and he launched into the air as the lascannon fired a second time. The bolt narrowly missed its intended target of the Sentinel's cockpit and instead sheared off the scout vehicle's left leg. Its balance suddenly disrupted, the bipedal machine spun out and smashed back into the rockcrete, rolling over several times before skidding to a halt. For the latest of countless hundreds of times, Burkhart was thankful for the roll cage protecting his Sentinel's otherwise-exposed cockpit.
Relief turned to terror when he realized his Sentinel was on its side, and the Iron Warrior was looking straight at him.
Southern Front
Argyre Planitia, Surface of Mars
The men of the 78th Assault Korps had noticed the enemy's sudden change in disposition, but they were not about to complain. The first belt of enemy trenches was a hard-fought battle, and only overwhelming firepower and sheer numbers saw them through. They hit the second belt of fortifications as the 33rd and 98th Assault Korps flooded into the forge complex to secure and widen the breakthrough. What was shaping up to be as difficult a battle as the previous abruptly transformed into a rout as the enemy outright broke and ran. The third belt hardly put up any resistance at all, as if they had no idea the 78th was approaching at all.
At Operation Desert Goliath, D-Day Plus Five, 2000 hours, the 78th Assault Korp became the first allied formation to break through Peturabo's siege lines and enter the Argyre Planitia forge complex.
Watchmaster Albert Mann had dutifully read the briefings, absorbing what little knowledge allied forces possessed regarding the situation within the forge complex. The inexhaustible plasteel wall that had allowed the 78th to batter their way through enemy lines had split up, with individual tanks slowly advancing alongside infantry squads. The Watchmaster had split his squad in preparation for urban combat, with each half taking one side of the street. The Leman Russ they were assigned advanced several meters behind them, its commander scanning the buildings for snipers.
Albert snapped in action at the sound of crunching rockcrete and power armor servos, throwing himself against the wall and dropping to one knee as he shouldered his lasrifle. The other four Guardsmen with him followed suit, their trigger fingers tightening as a dark figure emerged from the bombed-out hab block.
"Kriegers?" the Battle Sister asked, as if refusing to believe her eyes.
"The Emperor protects," the Watchmaster replied, carefully presenting the sign of the Aquila.
Albert, like any other Krieger, wasn't good at reading faces. Even somebody who spent his entire life with his face hidden behind a respirator knew what it meant when near-dead eyes suddenly lit up and a broad smile broke across an emaciated face.
"They're Kriegers! They're ours! They're ours!" the Sororitas shouted into the ruins, causing several dozen Sisters, Skitarii, and armed forge workers to cautiously emerge from their hiding places.
The Watchmaster briefly considered berating them for such a blatant disregard for noise discipline, made all the more egregious by a Sister of Battle being the offender. No training Albert had ever undergone prepared him for being suddenly grabbed and spun in the air, though he did reflexively fill his lungs before power armor-enhanced arms clamped around him. He had a feeling it was the only reason he was still breathing. There was no Guardsman in the history of the Imperium who had ever undergone any sort of training that taught them how to react to a—actually rather young, now that Albert got a good look at her—Sister of Battle pressing her lips against his gas mask's breather valve.
Nobody ever confessed to snapping the pict, but it spread like a wildfire throughout the allied forces.
Argyre Planitia Forge
Surface of Mars
The last of Xander's bolter ammunition had bought him precious seconds as the Iron Warrior commander fumbled the charge pack while dodging the burst. The Sentinel's other leg was a mangled mess, and the tumble had finally broken his much-abused lascannon beyond repair. As he frantically sliced away at his crash webbing, a desperate idea dawned on Xander. He spared a brief glance at the enemy commander, who had retrieved a new power cell and was reaching up to eject his weapon's spent one, before slipping several fingers under the Sentinel's service hatch and prying it open.
Combine Forward Operations Center
Outskirts of Argyre Planitia, Surface of Mars
"Sir! We've received a report from the 78th Assault Korps!" the Knightmare skidded to a halt before Field Marshal Schwer, "They've broken through and made contact with Imperial forces!"
A brief cheer rose throughout the command center, reached its crescendo in seconds, and died out just as suddenly. Nunnally turned to congratulate the militiamen, only for a panicked all-frequencies transmission to cut her off.
"The enemy has broken through our other perimeter!" one of the guards outside screamed over a background of chattering assault cannons, "Terminators! And…Peturabo! It's Petur-AGH!"
"Sound the evacuation! Have all forces begin falling back!" Field Marshal Schwer snapped off orders in every direction, "CIC crew, destroy all classified equipment and information. You are released from your posts as soon as you finish."
Nunnally's thoughts briefly flickered to the weapons literally hidden up her sleeve. The Field Marshal turned to her, as if reading her thoughts.
"With all due respect, Governor, the barrier between the Warp and real space is dangerously thin as-is. Another major release of psychic power may plunge Mars into the Immaterium. We need to evacuate you."
Argyre Planitia Forge
Surface of Mars
"C'mon, c'mon," Xander muttered to himself as his hands plunged into the Sentinel's internals.
As a Sentinel pilot, he possessed a greater understanding of the scout vehicle's inner workings than a great number of Tech-Priests were comfortable with. The overworked Enginseers were definitely grateful, and the ability to perform field repairs had saved Burkhart's life numerous times. However, the sensitive electronics of the Sentinel's Hunter-Killer Missile was one component he never dared muck around with.
"Oh Emperor, if this works, I'll never ask for anything ever again…" Xander quietly prayed as he came upon a blackened and partially-melted wire connecting two important-looking components.
To his adrenaline-sharpened senses, the near-silent click of a lascannon power cell sliding home was deafeningly-loud. Left with no other choice, Xander seized his Night Reaper and jammed the blade between the two connectors. The Catachani had only a faint beep warning him before he threw himself back into his seat, the heat of the Hunter-Killer Missile's exhaust singeing his eyebrows off.
The Iron Warrior commander saw the oncoming missile through the lascannon's scope. The impact shattered his rib cage and ruptured several organs, which he somehow survived. He wasn't so lucky with the missile slamming into the Land Raider Prometheus' side armor and then detonating.
Xander took a moment to congratulate himself before retrieving his Night Reaper and slicing through the last of his crash webbing. He could already hear the distant chanting of cultists as he hopped out of the destroyed Sentinel, sniper rifle held aloft in one hand and the other juggling a melta bomb.
Toss, catch, remove safety pin. Toss, catch, twist arming handle. Toss, catch, lob into the Land Raider.
"Guess today's just a good day as any to die," Xander smirked as the Prometheus burned furiously behind him.
Bond Crater
Surface of Mars
Suzaku gritted his teeth, sinking his leg into the dirt and bracing himself as another gout of lightning assaulted his mental wards. Blocking the attack's physical components was trivial, but the psychic component pushed his defenses to the breaking point. He had only heartbeats to catch his breath as the lightning ceased before Angron was upon him again. As he redirected or dodged each of the punishing attacks, his mind and body screamed for rest. Against one Daemon Primarch, he could have won without too many problems, but he could only defend himself against two.
Lightning struck him from two directions at once as Angron disengaged yet again, and Suzaku could only bite his tongue to keep from screaming as pure white-hot agony coursed through his veins. Only his sheer willpower kept him standing, refusing to give the enemy the satisfaction of seeing him on his knees. Even the act of turning his head several degrees nearly blinded Suzaku with pain. Even if he had never read the files, Suzaku would have recognized Ahzek Ahriman from the cadre of sorcerers surrounding the banished Chief Librarian of the Thousand Sons.
It all happened faster than even Suzaku could track. Ahriman and his cabal were reduced to fragments of power armor and a shower of gore, cooked from within by intense bursts of radiation. A red streak collided with Magnus, sending the fallen Primarch reeling back several steps. Angron bought his sword up in preparation for the next onslaught and was sent flying backwards as the Radiant Wave Surger's immense power cracked then shattered the Warp-forged weapon. The Guren-Seraph came to a halt before Suzaku, the crimson Knightmare crouching low and imposing itself between the Lancelot and the two Daemon Princes.
Kallen Kozuki had taken to the field once more.
Argyre Planitia Forge
Surface of Mars
As the Sororitas assault crashed through the base of the Argyre Planitia salient, they too felt the ferocity of enemy resistance abruptly plummet. Assaults by traitor Astartes followed, but the attacks were disorganized and came piecemeal, as though their command structure were suddenly decapitated. Fearing a trap, the vanguard force halted the main advance and dug in.
If Prioress Agrippa Laelia was not impressed with the Black Knights' technology before, she certainly was after watching the Shinkirou take to the field. The ancient Knightmare's weaponry wasn't anything special—its rapid-fire plasma weapons were effective, but only marginally more so than a Retributor squad—but the Shinkirou's void shields were nothing short of awe-inspiring. The shimmering pink barriers stopped everything: support weaponry, anti-armor ordnance, even tank shells. Agrippa dared not even imagine the level of intellect and reflexes required to operate them. She also quickly learned that the void shields consumed power at an alarming rate. One of the Custodians had taken up the task of swapping out the ceramic charge packs during particularly heavy fighting, sometimes even several times an engagement.
As the ground shook again, the Prioress glanced uneasily to the armored titan beside her. The Shinkirou, as she quickly came to realize, sported two pairs of eyes. Agrippa chose the higher pair and looked into them. Something about the tilt of the Knightmare's head told Prioress Laelia that she wasn't the only one feeling the mini-earthquakes.
Agrippa's first indication that the Emperor saw something she didn't was the Shinkirou suddenly launching itself highly into the air. More than one Sister covered their eyes, temporarily blinded as a massive lance of energy passed overhead. The Emperor's Knightmare disappeared into the flash, and Agrippa feared the worst for one wild moment as she frantically blinked to clear her vision. Almost lost amidst the blinding light was the Shinkirou, one arm outstretched and its void shields stopping the blast. A deep barking sound, audible for many kilometers, accompanied the energy finally dissipating. Even with her unenhanced senses, the Prioress could see the tank-sized bolt shells in the split second before they vaporized against the Shinkirou's void shields.
"I won't be able to do that again: the Shinkirou's energy filler is completely drained," the Emperor grimly declared minutes later as the bombardment ceased, "There's a Titan, Reaver-class, bearing down on our position."
A/N: So for those of you who guessed the arrow scene from 2001's Hero…well, I had cookies for you, but the Inquisition told me that since they were from my imagination, and "imagination" shares no letters with "heresy," they were therefore heretical, because the absence of heresy just means the heresy is hiding really well. Therefore, the cookies were exterminatus'ed.