Armorum Fidei Chapter 43

Toran could see the Psybrid construct looming high, brushing the heavens so tall was it. No hive spire or orbital tower, a mere glance told him that much. It oozed arcane potential, shimmering waves of ethereal power wafting continuously, making the hairs on Toran's neck stand up in alarm. He was no Psyker but knew well the rancid stench of warp-conjurations and he could tell it was nearly ready to do whatever it was built to do. But the armies of humanity weren't about to let that happen.

Over the horizon rolled a ragtag band of defiant warriors. The remaining Storm Heralds in their vehicles, riding between three train-cities and the jagged shape of Currens Ecclesia. Inside those bastions were tens of thousands of religious converts, all desperate to greet the alien menace head-on. They were frothing at the bit, whipped into a frenzy of religious ecstasy that would rebuff Psybrid mind-control, or so Justini swore. Toran remained sure they would give a good account of themselves but the task at hand was daunting. Around the construct the Psybrids had ringed their armies, a sea of gnashing and stomping alien flesh, ready to meet the interlopers and break them utterly. They had the numbers and position, Toran knew this battle would be as hard as any he had ever faced.

He peered out the hatch of Pride of Lujan, the unflagging Land Raider carrying him to battle once more. The other Storm Heralds rode their vehicles, waiting for the order to strike. Every Marine was committed to the moment and knew the odds stacked against them. In the face of destruction the differences between Firstborn and Primaris no longer mattered, they were equally doomed and equally bold and all knew that their only hope was to work together. Even Polarus seemed oddly subdued.

That thought made Toran click his vox and call, "Furion, estimate time to engagement."

"Scant minutes," Furion replied from Currens Ecclesia's heart.

"Keep the mortals alert," Toran ordered, "Everything depends on those bastions not stopping."

"You can count on us," Furion stated, "I'll hold them in line and keep Polarus from doing anything reckless."

Toran switched channels and called, "Sister Justini, are you ready?"

"My loyal comrades stand ready to sally forth," the Battle-sister replied, "But is there something off about that construct… it looks to be moving."

"That will be the people within," Toran stated forlornly.

"There are people in that thing?!" Justini gasped.

"I forget mortal eyes are not Transhuman. Yes, the captives of Suna are bound to that abomination. The Psybrids sacrifice their lives for whatever foul ritual they enact. No, do not think to save them. Their minds are lost and bodies withered. The best we can do for them is to end their suffering."

Justini snorted, "Actually I was thinking this only makes the alien's extermination more righteous."

"Nurture that hatred, it will serve you well."

A click on the vox heralded Furion calling, "Crossing into engagement range."

Toran switched his vox to open channels and proclaimed, "Men and women of the Imperium, sons and daughters of the beloved Emperor. Once more we face the dark horror of alien oppression but we are not afraid. We march as one and under the gaze of Him on Terra we are united in arms and spirit. Look to your comrades and know they shall fight for you, as you fight for them. Stand together, stand strong and the Xenos will learn once more that nothing can stand against the courage and resolve of the human race!"

Cheers rolled over the vox waves but were drowned out as the artillery began to boom. From atop all the Train-cities and the Walking Church earthshaker batteries lit up, flinging shells far into the horde awaiting them. Explosions bloomed far and wide, throwing broken bodies aside as torn scraps of flesh. Between them the cities boasted sixty barrels and they had enough ammunition to keep firing without pause. Toran watched flame and shockwave destroy hundreds of Xenos, culling them mercilessly. He dared to wonder if the scum who had killed Matheus was among the slain, he wished it wasn't so, he wanted to gut that filth with his own two hands.

Lorath's voice cut in, "We're bleeding them badly, permission to charge?!"

"Hold," Toran growled, "We haven't the ammunition to waste. Let the mortals break open the perimeter, then we strike."

"I hate waiting," Lorath protested.

"Save your fury, this is only just starting. Let's widen the theatre: aerial forces, engage."

From atop Currens Ecclesia and the Train-cities dark shapes arose on vectored thrust. Thunderhawks and Overlords, jealously preserved for the most critical moment. Toran craned his head up to see them shoot away on flaming contrails of exhaust, wings heavy with ordnance. They did not make for the army though, eschewing the chance to reap alien blood, instead they climbed hard, flying high and making for the construct itself. Toran was gambling that the ground forces would draw the Xenos' attention, leaving them unprepared for an aerial bombing of their tower. If it worked they could break the enemy at the outset, before they knew what was happening.

The gunships tore away but they were not unexpected. From the heights of the tower burst flocks of winged shapes, Q'uorl, Gykon, Vespid and more, thousands of them diving for the handful of gunships and mobbing them from above. They were met with heavy bolters, lascannons and missiles but to no avail, for every foe the gunships tore from the sky three more would take their place. Toran gritted his teeth and urged his Brothers on but the Xenos were coating the gunships in flesh, throwing themselves into engines and wing flaps with no regard for their own lives. He saw one Overlord launch a missile at the tower only for a Gykon to steer into its path to expend its fury short of the target. A Thunderhawk lurched as its engines exploded mid-air, it tried to dive-bomb the tower in a last show of defiance but its wings were heavy with enemies and it had no lift. It spiralled from the sky and slammed into the dirt just short of the construct, killing hundreds but leaving the tower untouched.

Raynek voxed, "They're not going to make it!"

"Damnation," Toran swore, "Aerial force, break off and withdraw. You can't do any good, but see if you can draw some enemies after you."

The few surviving gunships peeled off, racing away with clouds of foes chasing after. As if that was a sign the waiting horde began to move, no longer content to sit and be bombarded they surged forwards, racing over the ground in a black tide of murderous intent. Toran didn't have to give any order to open fire, the Storm Heralds reacted instinctively, blasting away with all they had. Heavy bolters thundered, lascannons blazed, las-talons and assault guns let rip and the macro-accelerators of Triumph of Progress greeted the aliens with monsoons of firepower, reaping a fearful tally. Then the great Quake cannon fired, sending a shell into the closing enemy. The world exploded under their claws, killing hundreds in a moment, sending their shattered bones high and raining down blood that boiled from the intensity of the shot.

The front rank of the Xenos horde disappeared into red mist, scythed apart, but the rest pressed on, rolling over the fallen without pause. They reached the feet of the moving cities and began to climb up their flanks, clawing their way up the sides, intending to tear open the defences and gut all they found. The defenders were beleaguered but not broken, long had the people of Suna fought the Psybrids and they knew well how to defend their homes. Heavy weapons pointed downward and began to sweep them from the flanks, knocking off broken bodies with all the regard a man would brushing off a fly. Hundreds fell, thousands even, but more came, always more, pushing ever higher and getting in under the arc of the guns.

"Support each other!" Toran roared into the vox, "Gunners, target Xenos infesting your neighbours, their armour can take any stray shots!" Caught between the advancing Train-cites the noise was incredible, the thunder of guns and booming explosions rattling Toran's armoured head. It was calamity and bedlam and anarchy and yet this was the environment Space Marines were made for and he exulted in the glory of combat.

Surrounded by foes the humans advanced, driving into the heart of the horde like a man wading into a midnight sea. Currens Ecclesia's feet rose and fell inexorably, crushing Xenos with every tread. The Train-cities rolled over any who stood before them, massive tracks grinding blood and bone into the dirt with ease. All the while the artillery boomed, defensive emplacements roared and the Space Marines swept the foe with all their fury. The quake cannon fired again and again, each shot blowing massive craters into the horde, leaving steaming pools of boiling blood behind to mark the Imperium's retribution. Together they formed a speartip that drove into the enemy's heart, lancing ever deeper and deeper.

The Xenos reeled from the onslaught and Toran dared to imagine they could reach the tower, but the Psybrids were not so ready to give up. The horde quivered for a moment, then turned on the smaller vehicles. Sensing the Train-cities were better armoured they sought to break the weak link in the defence, by overrunning the tiny machines driving in the middle of the formation. Toran saw a vice of flesh closing upon them and drew breath to shout, "Stand by to…"

Before he could finish the aliens rushed them, braving the torrent of fire to tear into hulls with claw and fang. Skittering and loping forms grabbed on and hoisted themselves aloft, climbing over hulls even as others threw themselves into tracks, trying to gum the axles with their blood. Toran saw a Kroot warrior bound high, mindlessly driven to attack. His sword was in his hand instantly and he swept it high, dicing the Xenos in half mid-leap. A Scythian reared over the side of the tank only to have its head taken off and then a Tallestrian was speared through the eye by the long point. Toran swept left and right, keeping Pride of Lujan's roof clear but the aliens were coming from all directions and he was but one.

Toran saw a pair of doughty Nephilim lower their weapons and let fly with actinic blasts that smote the Land Raider most cruelly. Toran was nearly thrown from his perch as the tank slewed to one side and his teeth juddered from the impact. Pride of Lujan reeled as its outer armour peeled off, but the ancient sciences wrought into its armour held true and the tank endured. In return the sponson lascannons swivelled and discharged, punching straight through a Nephilim and out the other side.

Toran had a momentary respite and saw the battle raging. Blue vehicles pressed on, fighting to advance into a sea of enemies. The Train-cities ploughed on, lashing down firepower from above even as the Space Marines fought for space. It was brave and bold but it was not enough. The Xenos' numbers seemed inexhaustible and they had no will to break. The Psybrids drove their armies onwards without care for the lives spent, eager to trade a hundred slaves for a single Space Marine. Even as Toran watched Triumph of Progress disappeared into a cocoon of living flesh, Xenos ripping hatches open to reach the crew inside and kill them. The Astraeus stopped firing and came to a halt, its majestic weapons made moot with no hands to control them. It was a bitter blow, but worse was to come. The Repulsors fell silent one by one, their ammunition exhausted, fearfully armed but lacking in endurance, their stockpiles scant to begin with were now emptied.

Raynek hollered, "Vehicles are out of ammo!"

Toran knew it to be true and voxed, "All squads dismount and engage the Xenos hand-to-hand. Face them on the ground and trust in your strength to break through. Sisters, the moment has come. Let us walk together and teach these Xenos that the fury of mankind is far from spent!"