Armorum Fidei Chapter 45

"They're all over our spine!" a mortal wailed from the control pulpits.

"Hatches are blown, they're pouring into our guts. Shield generators are failing, the templums are falling!" another shrieked.

"Artillery is being overrun," a third wailed, "It's gone, our artillery is gone!"

Polarus heard their dismay and knew it was the sound of death. Currens Ecclesia was beset on all sides and the tide of inhumans was insurmountable. Their valiant attempt to break through the horde and bring fire upon the Psybrid tower had fallen short, aliens swarming up its legs and falling from shimmering portals above. They were everywhere, crushing defence bastions and emplacements. The spires had ceased to ring, flanking guns had fallen silent and the barracks and halls inside seethed with hateful aliens. The Walking Church was doomed, nothing he could do would change that, but still there was an immense gulf between dying and dead.

Furion stood before the great doors of the Templum, ringed by heavy weapons and cried, "Stand your ground! The fight is not over yet. We shall keep moving and close on that tower and bring it down if it is the last thing we do!"

Polarus added his own voice, "Take heart, we still have the Quake Cannon, that will shatter the aliens' feeble work!"

The thin line of defenders gripped their guns behind hastily erected barricades and waited for the door to break open as mortal operators clung to their consoles and beseeched the Machine Spirits for another step. Few believed they could stand for long once the Templum doors fell, Polarus gave them scant minutes at best, but he marvelled that none of the defenders thought to run. Violent death was coming for all but the mortal men met it with courage and fortitude he previously would not have believed possible. He had seen faith rebuff Xenos witchery already but now he saw how men faced certain death. They prayed, they wept softly, they said goodbyes to their friends and comrades and then took up their positions without a moment's hesitation. They were magnificent and Polarus was shamed to think he had ever doubted them.

He spared a glance over his shoulder and saw the dark tower fill the armourglass window at the far end of the Templum. It dominated the skyline, blocking out the weak sun. This close he could see the framework of black girders that made up its structure, shimmering like Glassic and the thousands of wasted bodies bound into the weft of it. The sight made his loathing rise and the urge to destroy it burned but the odds were impossible. The ground seethed with enemies and the sky was a swirling mass of wings, he judged they would die long before they could touch the tower.

Polarus turned to Furion and whispered, "The chances of victory are scant."

"Have faith," Furion stated firmly.

"In the mission?"

"In our comrades," Furion corrected, "We place our trust in our fellows, in the courage and strength of mankind. We fight for all mankind, as humanity fights for each other."

"For humanity," Polarus whispered as the first great boom upon the door rang loud.

The defenders gripped their guns tighter and recited final prayers as another boom rang and another and another. The looming doors were thick and heavy but inhuman forces were battering upon them and they would not hold for long. More and more impacts rocked the barriers and the stonework frame began to crumble, even as the metal cracked. The Xenos would be inside in a moment and Furion lifted his Crozius to declare, "This is the final test, the moment all your lives have been building towards. The Xenos know they must take this Templum to stop Currens Ecclesia, we shall not let that happen. We shall stand our ground to the last breath, for Him on Terra!"

"For the God-Emperor," the defenders chorused as one final blow boomed and the doors fell.

Before the broken shards could touch ground the defenders opened fire. Scores of Heavy Bolters, autoguns and flamers shooting from behind metal barricades. A horizontal hail of destruction was born, plunging into the opening and killing anything that emerged. Polarus saw swathes of clawed and gangly bodies falling, the intruders smote with devastating firepower. Blood stained the air itself and the ground grew slick with eviscerated guts but the foe cared nothing for losses. A column of scampering and darting forms pressed into the torrent of firepower, selling their lives for an inch of ground. The defenders roared as they swept the closing foe with all their wroth but there was no end to the aliens, the humans would run out of bullets before the Xenos did bodies.

Polarus fired his bolt pistol over and over, picking off tougher enemies that the mortals failed to topple. He saw Furion doing the same and was inspired by the Chaplain's unflagging zeal, proudly leading the mortals in their desperate last stand. Polarus emptied a magazine and another but barely seemed to be making a dent, then a new threat presented itself. A lumbering foe emerged from the tide and levelled a gaping cannon at the defenders, a Nephilim, bringing its fury to bear.

"Concentrate fire!" Polarus yelled, "Bring it down before…" Too late the defenders swung their weapons to bear, for the Nephilim let out a blast of crackling energy. Polarus saw the ball streak across the distance and smite the line, blowing men apart in burnt chunks as their comrades flinched back and dropped their aim. Instantly the Xenos surged, racing for the gap in the line, even as withering crossfires returned to tear into their flanks. The humans furious blazed at the foe but it was not enough to deny their charge. If the aliens could reach the gap they would roll up the line and the battle would be over, yet Polarus got there first.

His Crozius blazed as he drew it, meeting the first alien with a roundhouse blow. A tallestrian came apart as concussive force turned its bones to powder. A Galg fell in a limp heap at his feet and a Kroot toppled over with a snapped neck. Polarus stood alone against a torrent of living enemies but he planted his feet and stood his ground. His arm swung like a thunderbolt, breaking any that came against him, denying the Xenos their opening. Claws scrabbled at his plate but he would not be moved, a dam in the river of enemies, holding them back by sheer force of will. The noise was incredible, the smell of blood intolerable and all his eyes could see were foes, but he would not give them an inch. He held the line, determined to win through or die trying.

Behind he heard mortal wail, "The Quake cannon is not responding, it's lost!"

Furion bellowed, "Signal Enginarium to enact the rite of Self-immolation, take them with us!"

"Power levels falling," came the reply, "Plasma reactors are hypovolaemic, we can't reach critical mass."

"Then divert all remaining power to the motive systems, crash us into the tower!"

"Our legs are gummed with bodies, we're losing legs."

"Just do it!" Furion roared.

The moment of distraction cost Polarus as a gangly form leapt from the mass of enemies. A Psybrid, coming right at him. He lifted his Crozius to block but the creature swung a hefty fist, shimmering with sonic resonances and struck him square in the chest. It was like being run over by a Land Raider, even his genhanced frame breaking under the titanic force that sent him flying. His Rosarius failed to stop the arcane energies and he went hurtling backwards to slam into the ground with broken ribs swimming freely. He tried to rise but his breath was gone and he could not draw air into his lungs. He needed a moment to recover but was not going to get it.

A Psybrid foot slammed into his chest and the creature reared high, preparing to end him. Polarus looked up and readied his soul for death but then another intervened. From the side Furion dove, tackling the Pysbrid bodily and throwing its bulk away. The Xenos staggered as Furion's Crozius smashed it aside, flaring discharge making it stagger. He pursued with his weapon swinging but the Psybrid was not caught off-guard a second time and wove around his blows, evading and then striking back with that great fist.

Polarus wanted to join the fight but the gap in the line had fallen to the Xenos and they poured through, rolling up the defenders with ease. Men screamed in fury and terror as they met the aliens face to face, fighting to the last drop of blood, but to no avail. The line had fallen and the defence was done for. Nothing could stop the Xenos killing the operators beyond and bringing Currens Ecclesia's charge to an end. Nothing save Polarus.

Facing obliteration Polarus called upon the one thing he had yet to employ. He lifted his fist high and then drove it into his side hard, causing broken ribs to dig deep and pierce his guts with splinters. The internal damage was severe but the result was profound, for it triggered his Belisarian Furnace. That tiny organ granted Primaris a last burst of vital energy, flooding their bloodstream with hyperadrenaline and aggression-boosters. It hit his brain like Promethium thrown on a bonfire, sending his muscles into overdrive and cells into a state of regenerative frenzy.

Polarus screamed as veins of fire ripped through him, every nerve described in acid-etched lightning. He rose from his broken torpor like a Pheonix from the ashes, seeing only enemies as the world turned red. Instantly he was upon them, Crozius smashing and crushing everything within reach. Driven by hate his arm became a wrecking machine, breaking and killing without pause. Alien viscera painted his front, his eye lenses smeared with gore and his respirator clogged with blood but he did not cease to attack. He felt countless blows ring upon his plate, many of them piercing his flesh but they did nothing to slow him. Fury drove him into the mass of foes, frenzy lending him its boundless energy as he killed and killed and killed, becoming an avatar of destruction. He held them back, one Space Marine against countless foes but for a brief shining moment he held them at bay, buying precious time with his lifeblood.

Polarus had no idea how many he slew but his rampage was brought short as Currens Ecclesia bucked wild. Everyone staggered and his head turned to take in the armourglass windows and the few remaining operators. During his frenzied onslaught the walking church had closed the distance and was scant moments from crashing into the tower, and yet it did not do so cleanly. The screams of operators told him the legs along the right flank were clogged and immobile, causing the entire edifice to swing right. The sky became apparent as the tower drifted to the left and he thought for an instant they had missed entirely, but then the edge of the walking church clipped the outmost layers of the structure and the universe became a bucking rollercoaster of wild contortions.

Polarus stumbled as the floor heaved up and down like an aquatic boat on an ocean swell. The Machine Spirits screamed in agony and the echoes of falling spires told that steeples were falling from the spine of the walking church. Lecterns overturned, stone fell from on high, crushing battling people and Xenos while the armourglass windows imploded, sending scything glassic shards to dice mortals and aliens alike. Death was everywhere, taking anyone not in armour and putting the battle in the templum to an end. Yet despite that Polarus was not dismayed, for he saw black girders raining down, the brushing impact had cracked the tower's structure and broken its foundations. Slowly, piece by piece, it began to collapse, beginning an inevitable chain reaction that would see it brought down once and for all.

Polarus had a second to rejoice but then an almighty crash came from above. His eyes lifted and he saw a tangled knot of stone and black girders falling, a section of the tower punching through the roof to fall right upon Furion's head. The Chaplain was still wrestling with the lone Psybrid, his plate battered and scored most terribly. He did not see the danger, he could not look away, the tangled wreckage would fall upon him and end his life before he knew what was happening. Furion would die, Furion who understood this age better than Polarus ever would, Furion who had spared counsel for a Marine he despised. A far better Marine than Polarus ever would be was about to die, but he refused to let that happen.

Instantly Polarus was moving, hurling himself at Furion's back. He slammed into the battling Chaplain and threw him aside, knocking him out of the way a heartbeat before the wreckage slammed home. Polarus felt crushing impacts smash his back, enough to break even a Space Marine, then something sharp caught his shoulder and drove straight through him, bursting out of his guts to plough into the floor, leaving him pinned upright with a black girder spiked through his torso.

Hammering blows rang off his helm but all he could focus on was the taste of blood in his mouth and the sound of twin heartbeats in his ears, growing faint and weak. Cold logic broke through his frenzy, remote and detached from all things, and told him that his death was sealed. These were his last moments. Dust swirled in his eyes then settled, revealing the Psybrid's broken body laying at his feet, killed in the crash. Small comfort in this moment but at least he had taken one enemy with him at the end. The dust parted to reveal Furion closing, the last living thing in the Templum, perhaps all of Currens Ecclesia. The Chaplain wrenched off his helm, revealing a face filled with confusion as he gasped, "You saved me, why did you choose to do that when you could have lived?"

Polarus tongue was fat in his mouth and blood gurgled in his throat as he croaked, "There was… no choice to be… made. You serve better… than I…"

"But why?"

"They need you… more than… they need me…" Polarus wheezed.

Furion's tone softened somewhat as he breathed, "For humanity?"

"For…" Polarus exhaled, "Humanity…"

Furion placed a hand on Polarus' shoulder and said, "Farewell Polarus, though you lived poorly you die well. You shall be remembered with honour and it will be said, at the last you proved worthy." Polarus wanted to give one last epithet but he had no strength left. Blackness overtook him and his mind collapsed as his body sagged on the girder holding him upright. His final thought was a sense of relief that he had proved worthy, then the cold embrace of the grave took him and with an act of self-sacrifice Polarus' life came to its end.