Armorum Fidei Chapter 28
They drove three hundred kilometres before Toran judged they were safe from danger and called a resupply run. The Storm Heralds screeched to a halt and formed a defensive perimeter, weapons held ready and vehicles spread widely. Bolt rifles and las-talons scoured the sky, lest fresh enemies' portal into range but thankfully there were no more assaults presented, the Psybrids had not prepared a second ambush. Within minutes the cruciform shapes of Thunderhawk Transporters appeared, bring holds chocked full of ammunition, fuel and spare parts to the depleted Space Marines. Supplies were hastily unloaded by serf loaders while the wounds to vehicles were made good. Pride of Lujan received plenty of attention from the Primaris Techmarine serving Sixth Company, the shattered sponson replaced entirely as blessings were liberally applied.
Toran left the logistics in Raynek's capable hands as he had more pressing matters to attend to. Laid out in solemn poses were the slain Brothers recovered from the battlefield. They were placed upon the ground with reverent care, their gear marked for recovery to the Thunderhawks once respects were made. Gaping holes at the throat and chest spoke of the harvesting of gene-seeds, their genic legacies claimed as the Chapter's Due. Eight Initiates killed by alien hands and seven more were unaccounted for, their bodies unrecoverable. Sixteen Space Marines slain in one engagement, a heavy toll indeed. Now they were mourned by their squads, their names and histories waiting to be committed to the Scrolls of Honour.
Toran stood back as Chaplain Furion performed ancient rituals over the slain, anointing their bodies with the last rites. It was a solemn occasion and Toran lowered his head in respect. Primaris and Firstborn lay side by side, made equal in death. It was a cruel irony that so bitter a blow had been required to erase their differences, their surviving Brothers sharing the same sorrow regardless of origin. Matheus had said a shared suffering was required to unite the two breeds and Toran found his wisdom painful to behold in practice.
Furion finished the Rites and stood up and Toran was free to speak. He turned to the survivors of Matheus' squad and shared quiet words. Many squads had suffered losses but only one had seen its Sergeant stripped away, so Furion had given dispensation for them to be spared duty standing guard to say final farewells. Toran took a few minutes to listen to their sorrows, trying to show he shared their grief, but feeling his words were inadequate platitudes. Once he had spoken to them all he selected Brother Togh as their new leader, a steady and unflappable soul who accepted the Brevet to Sergeant with humble solemnity. Toran bade them return to duty and then sagged, feeling the weight of the day settle upon him. His gaze crept to Matheus' body, seeing the stalwart Brother's face cold and unmoving in death. He had deserved better than to be shot in the back by a mindless Xeno, his glories cut short and potential unrealised.
Toran looked upon him and said, "I am sorry Matheus, I cannot fulfil my promise, but I will not forget you. Your name will be on my lips as I repay the Xenos a hundredfold."
Furion stepped closer and removed his helm, revealing patrician features, and said, "Toran, the weight of this is heavy to bear and yet you should not berate yourself. The Xenos' ambush was unforeseeable; none could have predicted they had subverted the Train-city."
"I don't…" Toran began.
"You always hold yourself to the highest standard but do tend to take missteps personally. It is not your fault, I did not see the trap either, none of us did."
"Furion…"
"You must not allow this loss to dishearten you, you must…"
"Furion!" Toran interrupted, "I do not blame myself for this, I blame the Xenos. Those perfidious aliens have claimed noble Space Marine blood and I have sworn to exact vengeance. I am not sad, I am angry."
Furion blinked in surprise and then exclaimed, "I did not expect you to react thusly. It seems I have nothing more to teach you."
"Never say that my old friend," Toran demurred, "The day I do not need you by my side is the day an Eldar keeps his word."
Furion nodded in comradery and they moved to inspect the repairs as serfs brought forth litters to take away the dead. Their gear and weapons would be reclaimed for the Chapter, reconsecrated and restored to be presented to a new generation of Storm Heralds. Toran saw the Thunderhawk transporters were unloaded already and the vehicles ministered to by welding torches and grinding saws, making good their wounds. Triumph of Progress was being restocked with Accelerator rounds, the advanced machine having spent copious amounts of ammo at a furious rate. Less than an hour Toran judged and the Storm Heralds would be ready to deploy again, but where and how, that was the thorny problem.
"Bring out a hololith," Toran commanded a pair of serfs and they hastened away, rooting about in a Thunderhawk's hold for the tactical slab, as Toran muttered, "We should have brought a Damocles command Rhino."
"This was only supposed to be training exercise," Furion comforted, "We'll make do."
Toran tapped his fingers on his hip as he waited for the serfs to drag a large device out onto the ground. It was shaped like a table and surrounded by control runes, while thick power cables and data-trunks ran back into the hold, where they connected to the transporter's augmented vox-relays. Toran stood patiently as the Hololith was set up and Binaric prayers were offered by the serfs. A ritual sprinkling of blessed unguents was applied and then the machine activated. It lit on the first attempt, a fortuitous omen and Toran leaned in eagerly to examine the results. Displayed in detail was the latest surveillance from their forward base, distant info-savants gathering information via high-flying servo-skulls and processing the results for their masters. Many Imperial citizens would not have credited the Space Marines with such minutiae, but without a solid base of up-to-date information their campaigns would flounder. Only thanks to the labour of thousands of invisible serfs could the Adeptus Astartes wage war. As it was they had range to cover several hundred kilometres out from their base, but that was all, a mere fraction of the planet's surface.
"What wouldn't I give for proper orbital scans," Toran muttered as he scrolled the tiny Hololith to and fro.
Furion retorted, "Might as well wish for the entirety of the Indomitus Crusade while we're you're at it. What do we have to work with?"
"Barely enough," Toran growled then switched to vox, "Rayenk, Polarus and all Sergeants, attend for a strategic conference."
Quickly the summoned leaders gathered, drawn by his command. Toran waited for them to congregate, seeing bitter expressions over every face. They were hurt deeply but none of them were unmanned. In every soul burned the need for vengeance and he was heartened that they shared his ire. Primaris or Firstborn, all had bled and every one of them yearned for the next battle. Toran let them peer at the Hololith, forming their own opinions, then declared, "Brothers, you have all lost friends and comrades this day and I share your pain. This is the situation; the Xenos tried to exterminate us but failed to finish the job. We are free to move and engage as we will; the question we must answer is, how shall we respond?"
Lorath was first to speak, "I say we gather our full strength and cut out the heart of their leadership in one fell swoop."
"How?" Aggressor-Sergeant Herir asked, "We have no sign that they have a leader, not one we can identify. Where would we find such a being?"
Toran informed him, "Psybrids use a creature known as a Gestalt, but they are typically heavily guarded and kept well out of the line of battle. I expect such beasts are currently in orbit, safe inside their starships."
"I take it an orbital assault in gunships is out of the question?" Lorath probed.
"Unless you wish to be blown out of the void," Furion admonished.
Raynek queried, "Is there no sign of a base of operations on the ground?"
"Not that our reconnaissance can find," Toran answered, "Though I must stress our vision is limited without orbital surveillance."
"We could send out the Overlords to range further afield," Herir suggested.
"Thousands of kilometres of bleak plain to scour and we have but a handful of gunships," Raynek sighed, "We'd never find them, barring sheer dumb luck. That's assuming they even have a base to attack."
Toran interrupted then to say, "We have no command or logistical targets to destroy but we have tracked five more Train-cities, they are all harried by Psybrid forces. Larger armies move across the surface of Suna with every hour that passes and we must prevent them claiming more civilian lives. I intend to move to reinforce the most endangered Train-city."
Suddenly Polarus interjected, "That is a mistake, we could stroll into another trap."
Eyes hardened at the blatant criticism of the Captain's strategy and Toran retorted, "We cannot hold off an assault of this scale without artillery support."
"And if they are subverted like the last one?!" Polarus sneered, "We would not survive a second ambush. I say we forget the civilians and concentrate on killing aliens. Hit them hard and fast, cull their numbers and weaken them."
Mutters of disagreement or support rang out and Lorath said, "He's got a point, we risk treachery if we close with another Train-city. Killing aliens in the field is more effective, every Xenos we kill out there is one less to attack the uncorrupted Train-cities."
"You would abandon civilians to fight alone?!" Furion barked.
Polarus answered bluntly, "They are weak and wayward, easily corrupted. A hundred of them is not worth one of us."
Furion looked outraged as he barked, "It is not for us to judge the worth of men! The Emperor commands we fight for humanity and so it is our duty to stand to their defence."
Polarus sneered, "Such ancient dogmas have led the Imperium into degeneracy and sloth. Men growing indolent while you Firstborn waste time on rituals and dusty creeds. We need action, decisive action, not to waste blood fighting for those too weak to defend themselves."
Furion's expression darkened as he growled, "You are not worthy of that Crozius you bear."
The insult brought winces from the Sergeants and Toran hastily stepped in to say, "This plan is flawed. The Xenos have limitless reinforcements in their starships above, more troops than we have bolt shells. We could drive about all day and kill everything we find and barely make a dent. We have to fight alongside men to preserve what we can. The Codex Astartes is clear, a united defence is our only option."
"To what end?" Raynek pressed, "How long can we defend Train-cities before we are swept away by attrition?"
"As long as we can," Toran replied, "Barring reinforcements from the Crusade, or the discovery of a critical target, we can only fight defensively."
"And you would trust the civilians not to turn on us again?" Polarus growled.
"I never said that," Toran rebuked, "Next time we shall send a small force ahead to inspect the guns and ensure their loyalty is sound. I want guarantees there is no trap before we venture into artillery range."
"That will be hard with Xenos breathing down our necks," Raynek pointed out, "We will have to reach the Train-cities much earlier, before the attacks begin."
Toran explained, "Which is why our gunships will fly far ahead of the ground forces. Here, the Train-city of Ferthen is endangered, there is where we will take a stand. Polarus you will take command of the reconnaissance mission and be first into the field. I want your eyes on the artillery, you will judge if all is in order before we commit. Your word alone will I trust that there is no trap awaiting us."
Polarus glowered but the Captain had honoured him with a vital mission and so he could not argue, though he looked like he wanted to. Toran faced the rest and asked, "Are there any questions?" It turned out there were a lot and the captain had to keep a patience manner as he dealt with deployments and tactical issues. He addressed the Sergeant's concerns as best he could, soothing their worries and making sure they felt heard. All the while he felt Polarus' hard eyes boring into him but did his best to ignore the dour Chaplain, concentrating on his Marines. Eventually the questions puttered out and the Sergeants were dismissed back to their squads.
Serfs began packing away the Hololith but Furion hung about as he cautioned, "You're putting an awful lot of trust in a Marine who despises our philosophies and tactics."
Toran countered, "I know, but Polarus' has proven competent at the sharp edge of battle and keeping him busy is the best way to deal with his complaints. Besides he has the kind of suspicious mind to spot deception instantly. He will know if the mortals are subverted, I can trust his judgement on that, if nothing else."
Furion shook his head and said, "He may condemn them out of hand."
But Toran sighed, "I have to give him a chance to see mortals can be worthy. Perhaps the sight of men fighting to defend their homes will convince him that mankind is worth defending."
"I must take it on faith that you're right," Furion muttered as he moved off.
"So must I," Toran whispered as he went to direct the deployment, "So must I…"
