Armorum Fidei Chapter 14

"Repeat that!" Toran barked into the vox in disblief.

"They're on us," came the panicked response from orbit, "Psybrids, they're tearing the defence platforms apart!"

Toran felt a surge of panic whelm up within him and a thousand questions rang through his head, yet his training and conditioning overcame such alarm in an instant and he switched vox-channels to cry aloud, "Brothers, we are under attack. Switch to live ammo and prepare defensive pattern Foxtrot nine-seven. Stalkers evenly spread, Triumph of Progress, take centre position and elevate your barrels!"

Around him the two Companies of Storm Heralds responded with Transhuman swiftness. Caught in the middle of a war exercise the tanks and transports veered off from their previous engagements and swirled together. With stunning swiftness they gathered, tanks and anti-gravs pounding the earth as they ringed their vehicles into a defensive circle. Even as this was happening Brothers were switching out paint rounds for live ammo, the Codex Astartes' ancient commandments demanding all Space Marines have access to ammo no matter the situation once again proving its wisdom. Tactical and Devastators took up positions next to Intercessors and Hellblasters, as Assault Marines and Inceptors readied their jump packs. Bike squads and Invader support squads gunned engines as they positioned for counter-assault and Repulsors raised their barrels high. Sixty seconds, that was all it took two Space Marine Companies to break off their war games and regroup to present an impenetrable defence.

Toran strode down the ramp of Pride of Lujan, and took up his master-crafted bolter alongside his Marines. He was sure they would prove their courage and valour once more and yet not all were so confident. Across the vox Raynek called, "What have we got?"

"Psybrids," Toran growled, "In great number, seven starships are attacking the higher orbitals."

"Seven?!" spluttered the voice of Lorath, "Holy Throne, we've never seen more than one at a time. Seven… this is bigger than anything we've seen in millennia. We're in trouble."

"Hold your tongue," Furion countered, "We've beaten them before and we will again. Stand with your Brothers and trust in your wargear, we shall send these curs packing in short order!"

Toran was glad to hear his Brother's stalwart voice and switched back to orbital channels, "Captain Toran to Hundred Centuries. Shipmaster Rewanes, can you get an Astropathic message out?"

"Negative," the mortal called back, "Psychic blanking is cutting out everything, nothing can punch through. The docks and defence platforms are done for, the bombers are toast and we've got civilian ships exploding left, right and centre. We can't deny seven Xenos, I'm manoeuvring for a last ditch run at the nearest, we may be able to cripple one of them before they kill us."

Yet Toran rebuked, "Pointless death does not serve the Emperor's will. Your orders are to attempt to break out of their jamming range, run for deep space and send an Astropathic message to Lujan II, alert everyone that Suna is invaded."

"There's no vector clear of enemy ships," Rewanes protested.

"Then push your engines hard and beseech your ships to sail faster than they've ever sailed before."

Toran cut the link as he passed his eye over the company; his Brothers were alert and ready, prepared for the enemy to come. He trusted they would respond quickly and fight hard, but he worried they would not unite in the face of danger. The divisions within had yet to be resolved, Firstborn and Primaris, if they were not one in spirit then they were nothing. He would have to keep a close eye upon them to make sure mistakes were caught quickly.

As if summoned by the thought Polarus emerged, the Primaris Chaplain striding over with his face hidden by a skull-helm. He addressed Toran directly, "Why are we just sitting here?! We should be moving to intercept their landing coordinates!"

Toran retorted, "Don't tell me how to fight Xenos. The Storm Heralds have fought the Psybrids for centuries, we know what we are doing."

"By lounging in the open like a pregnant Grox, where an orbital barrage can pick us off!"

"There will be no orbital barrage, trust me on this," Toran growled.

Raynek cut in over the vox, "I can hear you shouting from here, so can the Squads."

"Thank you for the reminder," Toran voxed, "Polarus, strategy is my remit, yours is the conduct of our Brothers. I suggest your focus on your duty."

Polarus turned on his heel and strode off but Rayenk asked, "I've never faced Psybrids before, what can we expect?"

"Trouble," Toran growled, "The Xenos are dominators and controllers, they enslave lesser races to their will and use them as cannon fodder. Expect to see anything and everything; they could have scores of lesser races under their thrall."

"Are we in danger of being controlled?" Raynek asked.

"Our Hypno-indoctrination is sound," Toran reassured him, "The greatest danger is being drowned in bodies."

Suddenly the vox squawked as Rewanes cried, "Captain, we're taking heavy fire. There's too many of them, Hundred Centuries is crippled and being boarded. Cold Vengeance is being torn apart, she's… oh throne… she's just went up, I say again Cold Vengeance is gone!"

"Steady man!" Toran barked, "Hold your course and keep going, you can make it."

Rewanes' voice fell as he said, "Captain… I know space and my ship and I speak with surety when I say we are not going to survive this."

Toran hearts grew cold but with stern iron he commanded, "Try anyway, push all power to the drives and place every last armsman around the Astropath's sanctum. Its warding will rebuff Psybrid domination. Defend that chamber to the last man and the last bullet; claw every last second you can to get your ship beyond jamming range. This is your final order; buy those Astropaths time to get a message out."

"Understood," Rewanes said with grim resolve, "We give our lives for the Storm Heralds, and for Him on Terra."

"Your name will be noted in the Chapter's annals," Toran stated with finality, offering the highest commendation the Storm Heralds could offer to a serf, saved only for those who had shown uncommon bravery in the face of death.

Toran cut the link, knowing the odds of the serfs managing to hold off the intruders long enough were scant, but the attempt had to be made. Seven Psybrid ships hung over their heads, numbers unseen in his lifetime. The coming invasion would be larger than anything the Psybrids had attempted in millennia, the prospects of two hundred Space Marines being able to withstand it were low. Still he was determined to fight to the last drop of blood, his honour demanded no less.

Turning to matters he could affect Toran called, "Chaplain Furion, would you be so good as to fortify our spirits for the battle to come."

Polarus stiffened at not being chosen but Furion on the other side of the ring lifted his Crozius high and cried, "Brothers, the alien horror once again darkens our doorstep but under that midnight shadow we rejoice! War comes, war in its purest form. This is a test of human strength against alien corruption and there can be no doubt as to the righteousness of their extermination! The Emperor teaches there is room for only one race among the stars and by His will it shall be humanity that prevails. Give thanks Brothers for having the chance to fulfil the purpose for which He made us. Kill anything that is not human!"

The Firstborn let out a hearty cheer and the Primaris followed suit. Toran grinned under his helm as he muttered, "Nice speech."

Raynek however spoke up, "I don't see any shuttles or landing craft."

"You won't," Toran replied, "They don't need them. Here it comes…"

The air took on a greasy tang and shimmering distortions rippled over the land, like heatwaves over a field of corn. Toran gripped his bolter tight as tension filled the universe, inner ears filling with pressure like being underwater, then suddenly released as his ears popped. The sky overhead split open, a circular portal blasting through spacetime as thunder rolled. For a moment the shimmering portal yawned wide, and dark specks flew through, then it slammed shut, leaving the sky filled with winged forms.

"Open fire!" Toran roared as the foe flocked overhead. There were a variety of species on display, insectile Q'uorl, humming Vespid, wide-winged Gykon but they moved as one, a dark cloud swooping down to engulf the Space Marines. Resinous blister-rifles were in their hands and they spat black thorns at the ground, shooting continually. Behind them another portal blinked open and another, more and more, until the sky filled with blurring wings and blistering fire.

The Space Marines saw the mass hovering overhead but they were not dismayed and greeted the assault with torrents of fire. Hundreds of bolters and bolt rifles thundered, sending mass reactive high. Aggressors rocked back on their heels as boltstorm gauntlets lip rip and Hellblaster's shadows were etched into the ground as plasma was set loose, then the tanks added their fury. Heavy bolters roared, lascannons blazed and missiles flew into the midst of the swarm. Predators elevated their guns and shot into the sky, Stalker tanks spat las in torrents and Repulsors hammered ceaselessly. Greatest of all was Triumph of Progress, the Astraeus' accelerator cannons booming a continuous hail of shots as the turret span and the flanking las-talons disgorged withering fire.

Black bodies fell from the sky like hail, torn apart by flurries of destruction. Every shot was a kill, Transhuman accuracy not needed, so dense was the flock any round that missed soon found another body. Blood and alien viscera rained from on high, explosions ripped wings into rags and las smote all it touched. Hundreds of aliens died in the first minute and yet it wasn't enough, not nearly enough.

Toran emptied his bolter into the sky then smoothly changed magazines as he called, "Watch for massing formations, keep them scattered and divided!"

Polarus yelled, "They grow in number, we need to break out!"

"No, do not break our circle," Toran snarled, "Hold the line and stand your ground!"

He saw the damage the Storm Heralds were inflicting on the flocks but then they surged. A massive conglomeration of foes drew together and then dove hard. Bolts and Plasma smashed into the mass, annihilating foes by the score but so many were they that the mass pressed on regardless. The club of dark flesh smashed into the ground, engulfing a Tactical Squad in a flurry of slashing claws and thorny projectiles then swooping high again.

"They've breached our line!" Raynek hollered.

But Toran was already yelling, "Assault Marines and Inceptors counter-attack!"

From the centre of the ring blue-warriors shot into the sky, jump packs spreading wings of fire behind. The Inceptors were faster, flying past the flocking mass as assault bolters hammered away. Each as fast as a Heavy Bolter and yet far more compact, they blitzed the dark swarm and made it shudder, carving great rents into the mass, then the Assault Marine struck. Ceramite bodies dove into the fray, chainswords singing their terrible song. Chests were cleaved open, heads struck from necks and wings sundered, ripping and tearing all they found. Lorath was at their head, lightning claws crackling as he set to with a vengeance, decimating everything in his path.

Toran was several steps behind, running as fast as he was able. He saw an insectile creature trying to level a blister-rifle at an Inceptor's back, his hands reacted on reflex and a bolt round blew it from the sky. Another alien with broad wings was trying to grab an Assault Marine in long talons but its head was struck from its shoulders by a pin-point shot. That wasn't Toran, it had come from an Inceptor making a swift pass and the Captain was heartened to see it.

Toran reached the foot of the swarm and planted his feet, firing upwards without relent while the circle kept firing at the rest of the foes surging in from other directions. From his position all he could see were black wings and flaming exhaust but his aim was smooth and his stance firm. He faced the foe without flinching and kept shooting, unflinching in the face of danger. His defiance was noble and yet he was surprised when a mangled corpse fell from the sky and nearly crushed him. He dove aside at the last moment, letting the broken alien slam into the ground as he called, "Watch it!"

"I'm trying!" Lorath yelled as he shot overhead, "We're being overwhelmed!"

"Not for long," Toran hissed, "Raynek, divert fire support to my position!"

"Already on the way," came the voice of Raynek, "All units hit the deck now!"

Storm Heralds shot earthwards as Toran twisted about and saw mighty Triumph of Progress closing, accelerator Cannons etching lines of fire against the horizon. Raynek was stood upon its bow, boltstorm gauntlet stuttering as he sent burst flying and rode the tank's charge. Shells and bolts and las smote the swirling mass of foes most cruelly, shredding everything in sight. The column rippled as streams of corpses plummeted from its mass, the tirade punching deeper and deeper into its heart. The shadows began to lighten as dim sky broke through the diminishing numbers, then suddenly the cloud began to dissolve.

Toran chased fleeting forms with his bolter and picked them off as he saw the critical mass had been reached, the enemies' number thinned enough to allow concentrated fire to bracket and annihilate the survivors. They didn't run, their distant masters wouldn't leave them enough intelligence to think of self-preservation, but it didn't matter. The circle of Space Marines had held the line and rebuffed the assault; it was only a matter of time until the sky was cleared. In moments the last foe fell dead and all guns ceased to fire. Around the circle magazines were hastily changed and the white-clad Apothecary of Sixth Company dashed to tend the wounded but there was no doubt that the field belonged to the Storm Heralds. Toran looked about and was glad to see few of his Brothers had been floored, the Tactical squad that had suffered the worst stirring groggily.

Triumph of Progress skimmed to a halt as Raynek jumped down and declared, "I think we got the damned glitches."

Toran eyed him and wryly commented, "Riding an Astraeus, I didn't take you for a showboat."

"I got caught up in the moment," Raynek quipped, "but I have to say this was easier than I expected."

"Too easy!" came the harsh voice of Polarus as the Chaplain strode over, "If this is the best the aliens can muster I find them unworthy foes. Perhaps Psybrids are not as formidable as you Firstborn proclaim."

Toran faced him angrily and snapped, "This was nothing, a mere distraction to keep us busy. While we were engaged they'll be landing in force somewhere else. Even now alien filth sullies the soil of Suna and we must be ready for the next fight."

"Given what we've seen so far I am not concerned," Polarus sniffed.

But Toran growled, "You should be, the biggest alien invasion the Saint Karyl Trail has seen in millennia is upon us and it is down to we few to deny them. Brace yourself for a fight Chaplain, this war hasn't truly begun."