O-kay! I'm back from the holidays, and guess what?
I'm bored as hell!
Typing this one chapter was sluggish compared to the others, but totally worth it. The war for Cadia is coming to a head with the forces of Chaos and Order mobilizing for the final confrontation upon the Gate, and that got me really excited!
Here's hoping the chapter doesn't fall apart ( fingers crossed )
Special A/N
Also, I think I made it clear that the M rating spells the nature of this fic, yeah? Warhammer is gritty, dark and violent, with little silver linings compared to other genres. Still, that doesn't seem to stop a few of my readers from complaining in the PM's that my fic is too dark, inappropriate, and all that nonsense.
My answer is simple: While this is a redemption saga, I do the W40k universe no justice if I "tone it down". If you're looking for a relaxing fanfic full of non-violence, drama and all that fluff- I'm sorry to say- YOU ARE IN THE WRONG SIDE OF THE INTERNET!
I accept ideas and the like, adding them to improve the fic ( with permission of course ) whenever and wherever they fit. To reiterate; If you ask me to tone it down, it's no longer the Warhammer universe we know and love ( and hate ).
I'll write this down only once: STOP WHINING.
And, with that written down, I hope it's clear enough for everyone to understand. If you're not one of the whiners, by all means disregard this author's note.
Thank you, and please enjoy.
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"Negative, Orbital Command."
Sgt. Araia paused to discharge his bolt-pistol at a shambler just as the blighted thing crawled out of a wrenched sewer grating to attack the Kasrkin that had made planetfall upon the lost world of Urthwart.
The zombie falls still as the round bursts its bloated head open, leaving a quivering mass of rotted flesh in its place. "No sign of enemy activity here, just a whole lot of shamblers who've fallen out of the Emperor's grace, sir."
The Cadian elite taskforce had been pushed into the outer reaches of the Gate, resulting from their constant vigil of the Eye of Terror, knowing that an attack upon Cadia would soon come. Desperate to know where the first blow might land, the fleet where he was stationed set out for the world where astropathic divination pointed, which happened to be Ulthwart.
But instead of the expected forces of Disorder, the landing team found only victims of the dreaded Curse of Unbelief. Suddenly, a frantic Vox communication from the Cadians' warships in orbit reported in. "Numerous vessels advancing on Urthwart from the Eye of Terror! Sergeant, get your men back on your transporters and pull back! I say again- pull back!"
The Karskin attempted to fall back to their dropships to return to their troop carriers, but it was already too late. The Imperial ships in orbit were either crippled or were forced to disengage and make best speed for Cadia.
There was to be no escape for the Karskin who were stranded on Urthwart as a massive vessel, larger than the most gargantuan capital ship of the Imperium, approached the doomed world: the Planet Killer! Few were aware of the existence of this monstrous ship, for it had been thought lost at the Battle of Kharlos II during the Gothic War centuries earlier.
Oblivious to their fate, the stranded Cadians could do nothing as the incomprehensible power of the Planet Killer was unleashed in a devastating lance of energy that annihilated the blighted world they were trapped upon and reduced it to spinning pieces of molten rock floating in the void.
As Urthwart died, collapsing in on itself, a Chaos warfleet composed of hundreds of warships and hulking troop transports surged from the depths of the Eye of Terror, heralding the beginning of Abaddon the Despoiler's fearful 13th Black Crusade. A psychic death scream, more piercing than the Astronomican itself, ripped through the ether from the doomed world of Urthwart.
Astropaths and forward Imperial listening posts detected the emergence into realspace of a Traitor warfleet consisting of hundreds of warships and hulking troop transport vessels. All were on a course for Cadia. Reports indicated that the Plagueclaw and Terminus Est, along with a massive flotilla of Plague Hulks, had emerged in the Subiaco Diablo System.
Worse than this, unconfirmed reports claimed that two Blackstone Fortresses accompanied the Chaos warfleet. Cadian Sector High Command found this last fact difficult to countenance, though given the state of the sector in the previous solar months, they could not discount the possibility that these ancient xenos weapons still existed within the hands of the Forces of Chaos.
Aboard the Abaddon stared into the vastness of space, the urge to allow a millennia of pent up rage to lash out against the galaxy was strong in him, but for the sake of his carefully planned campaign he reined the bloodlust in. His warmongers let out a chorus of eager howls and shouts of wrathful hate as they watched the loyalist fleet shatter and burn to ash around the Planet Killer. They wanted more blood, more death, for the brief skirmish was unsatisfactory to their voracious appetite for killing. Abaddon silenced them all with a glare, though promising the blood they so craved by ordering a swift assault upon the neigboring worlds in the system, sealing the doom of the helpless Imperial citizens.
Over the course of six days, the surrounding systems were put to the sword. Terrible, mighty Chaos Space Marines trod the surface of worlds they had not set foot upon for ten millennia and their hatred and thirst for vengeance truly knew no bounds. Billions of farmers, forge-sons and forge-daughters, soldier and defending astartes were sacrificed to the thirsting gods of the Warp, further fueling the war machine the Despoiler guided ever onwards to the Gate. Yet this assault was a mere prelude to an even greater storm that would soon engulf the entire Segmentum.
The other twelve failures were born of a single error, each varying from the other, but the Warmaster would not allow a thirteenth. He had grown more cunning, more powerful, and even more patient since his last visit upon the mortal realm. And so, even more dangerous than the twelve times combined.
As his minions went forth and sown ruin across the sector, the Despoiler smiled to himself. "Let the galaxy burn." Aside from his desire to finally finish what he had set out to do concerning the Cadian Gate, Abaddon found himself most eager to cross paths with the newborn clone of his progenitor. A pale imitation of the Lupercal in his eyes, maybe, but the Warmaster cannot allow the Imperium to gain any form of significant edge against his plans for galactic domination. They were weak now, especially with the infighting the dying empire was afflicted with, and he wanted to keep it that way.
Still, this Horus clone was a threat that needed to be stomped out.
"Warden Ackerman! Ma'am! The mob has gone on a rampage! They're at the gates!"
High Warden Killian Ackerman rose from her desk and calmly reached for her service rifle before following the guardsman out of her office. For the eighth time this week, the insurrectionists have been stirring up trouble amongst the inmates working the mining districts A1 to C15. The unrest has spread until manufactorum districts D12 and even up to the admium district where she and the rest of the supervising wardens were stationed in.
The woman was never above dispensing correctional actions upon the troublesome prisoners, be it bolter or prometheum, and it seemed to be the opportune moment to use such methods again.
But something was wrong about this uprising, and the High Warden knew it. "Bring me up to speed, guardsman."
"There was an unauthorized landing in the distribution sector above the manufactorum district D1. At first, we thought it was them spacemarines coming for a purge. But then, the mob got agitated when they arrived. Communications have gone dark from all surrounding districts, we don't know what's going on other than the fact the inmates have torched most of the sectors and are at our doorstep, ma'am!"
"Calm down, lad." The older woman ordered, "Keep your head on the task at hand, there will be no fear involved on our part, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am, of course."
"Good." Ackerman declared, entering the armory in which the rest of the defense force had assembled at her command. She stopped atop the catwalks and announced, "I'm not one for speeches, ladies and gentlemen. Saint Josmane's Hope calls for you, and you all know your duty. Let's man our stations and put down this uprising."
The guardsmen of the penal colony acknowledged the High Warden's words with a stiff salute and a silent mobilization, trotting off to man the kill-slits and heavy bolter emplacements atop the spires of the massive complex. Saint Josmane's Hope was the Cadian system's prison world, responsible for rehabilitating the worst criminals through the labors of the mines or lobotomizing them as servitors should they refuse to allow the rehabilitation process reshape them into functional members of society.
Today was the day that proved the latter's failure.
Little did the wardens know that the astartes who arrived on the penal colony were not, in fact, of the Imperium. Though hailed as liberators by the abused populace, the spacemarines were in fact devout followers of the Chaos god Slaanesh, a renegade chapter called the Violators. The doors of the complex, reinforced by heavy slabs of hardened ceramite, were blasted open by the shrill cries of the Slaaneshi marines' sonic weaponry, allowing the maddened inmates to pour in to exact their wrath upon their jailers.
The ensuing fighting was intense, to say the least. The inmates bore blunt weapons, such as wrenches and stolen warhammers from the battle-vaults of the manufactorum districts, as a stark contrast to the better equipped guardsmen defending the admium complex.
Unafraid to get her hands dirty, the High Warden joined in the defense, firing upon the howling mob with a steady hail of bolter rounds from her customized service rifle. Seeing the bodies piling on top of each other reminded Ackerman of her days fighting the Orks in the jungles of Kaurava, yet she found it was unsettling to see that frenzied look of the beasts upon a human's face. The Violators came into view as they flanked the advancing tide, holding aloft their sonic weapons as they sang obscenities through their vox-grills.
When the tide was stemmed, the guardsmen turned their weapons upon the approaching heretic astartes. In someone else's perspective, like perhaps those that stare through the veil separating realities, one would've laughed at the attempt the lesser men were putting up against a far more superior force. Ackerman saw this and knew there was no chance for them to make a stand and live to tell the tale, and so the High Warden gave the final order to spare her men from the horrid fate of suffering at the hands of the Slaaneshi heretics.
The wardens, huddled behind the slabs of iron, turned their weapons inwards and consigned themselves to oblivion, denying the forces of the Dark Prince the satisfaction of subjecting them to all manners of depravity.
It was wise of them to do so, but it did not stop the maddened inmates from desecrating the bodies of their jailers. Dissatisfied with the death of the High Warden, the Violators commanded the most depraved of the prisoners to strip her corpse naked and defile it in any way possible, all the while carving the blasphemous runes of their patron upon her forehead and hands.
With this new banner at their disposal, the Violators planted Ackerman's marked corpse upon the shattered gates of the admium complex, reminding the denizens of the penal colony that the world was now under new management.
"Atten-hut!"
Bootheels clacked together soundly at the announcement, all officers present at the closed session briefing room turned to salute the newly appointed Lord Castellan- Ursarkar Creed. Following the death of his predecessor and the whole of the Cadian High Command at the hands of the Volscani traitors, the former colonel remained as the only high ranking official in the system. Left with little choice but to assume the position of system governor and commander-in-chief, Ursarkar took the mantle and in so doing, re-established order to the beleagured forces of the Imperial Guard. Though he had many political enemies, they all stepped aside in this moment of crisis, knowing that bigger things hung in the balance than their personal grievances.
Behind him marched the towering spacemarines of the storied Spacewolf Chapter, yet not just any astartes, for these were the Kingsguard of the famed Great Wolf Lord of Fenris- Logan Grimnar! The man himself showed his face, following his Kingsguard into the briefing chamber with his mouth still full of roasted chicken. The journey had been long for the Wolf Father, and his ever-growing appetite had to be sated for the time being.
News of the recently destroyed world of Urthwart had reached the Cadian High Command hours after the victory at Tyrok Fields, received as yet the first of a thousand more bad news to come. And rightly so, for news had reached them of the brewing threat upon the penal world of Saint Josmane's Hope, the fall of its admium districts and the brutal massacre of the wardens stationed there.
Many officers within Cadian High Command had not heard of the Violators until they had been invited to this closed session along with Lord Castellan Creed, where a representative of the Inquisition imparted to them the awful truth concerning the hedonistic heretics, so that Imperial forces would be better prepared to combat them.
This representative was Inquisitor Norn of the Ordo Hereticus, having been brought to Cadia months before the battle on Tyrok Fields and after his work on Inouna to hunt down perceived threats of heresy amongst the ranks of the Imperial Guard. His presence on Cadia Prime and the blades of his ward Silicia have been instrumental in cutting down the cults spread over the Cadian underground, though not enough to prevent the disaster on the assembly line.
Captain Mercutio, immediately promoted to such a rank after his deeds won over the admiration of the Lord Castellan, stood close to the commanders of the Cadian 8th, having merged his regiment with them after there was little to none that remained of it after Tyrok Fields.
What they were told about the Violators' activities filled even hardened veterans with horror, for no man, no matter his crime, deserved to have the attentions of such vile creatures visited upon him.
Soon the defences of every one of the worlds in the Cadian System were sorely tested, and despite the efforts of the Commissariat to maintain Imperial morale through censorship of news, word spread of the atrocities being committed upon Saint Josmane's Hope.
Time was of the essence, and Creed could simply not sit and wait while those Violators roamed free upon Saint Josmane's Hope. When approached upon what must be done, he answered curtly. "The world of Saint Josmane's Hope is to be subjected to Exterminatus and destroyed utterly."
Although seen as a wise move for the newly appointed commander, there were still some obstacles to such an endeavor. A few other colonels spoke up about the issues concerning the bold decision, "The enaction of an Exterminatus is beyond the resources available to the Imperial forces present in the system; the agents of the Inquisition confirmed this and said that their own ships that carried the needed weapons of mass destruction are many solar weeks distant."
Logan Grimnar cleared his throat, "To confirm, none of the available vessels of my Chapter fleet carries Cyclonic torpedoes, and neither does any Astartes warship within range." The Imperial Navy put forward the plan of instigating a massive bombardment of the world using Nova Cannons, in the hope of causing a degree of tectonic instability, but all available intelligence suggested that the Chaotic fleets blockading Saint Josmane's Hope's orbital space were too strong. The bombardment vessels would not survive to launch a single shell, let alone the hundred or more required to complete the task.
"If I may offer a solution." An Adeptus Mechanicus representative put up, "That tectonic instability could be created by overloading the generatorium grid of the planet's main prison complex."
The resulting explosion would pierce the world's crust, thereby causing a meltdown to "sing" through the planet's outer crust and into its mantle. This would cause the crust, followed by the planetary mantle, to tear itself apart. The only drawback to this plan was that such an objective would need to be completed by a team of operatives on the ground, for it could not be attempted remotely.
So in essence, the priest suggested a suicide squad to be sent over to Saint Josmane's Hope in order to carry out the task of Exterminatus. The plan was approved without much contradictions, and the officers and astartes involved moved to select the men to perform this important mission.
"I'll go, sir." Mercutio found himself saying. Whether it was out of his eagerness to put duty above his life or otherwise, it didn't really register in the young man's mind as he volunteered for the mission.
Ursarkar Creed was handed all the data on the captain of the Whiteshields, and the older man looked upon the youth thoughtfully as he read over the impressive but brief details of his accomplishments. No other words needed to be said, for Mercutio knew this was a one way ticket, and no songs would be sung about his mission should he go for this. Yet, he still didn't care for glory, for the lad knew in his heart that he was making the Emperor proud.
The lad reminded Creed strongly of himself, and it saddened him to think such a dutiful man would be thrown into the meat-grinder so soon. Yet he knew, of all people, a guardsman's life is to die. "Very well, Captain. Assemble your men, we will have you depart within the hour."
Mercutio saluted stiffly, "Sir!"
The special team was assembled in short order and given the moniker "Strike Force Herald." It was composed of an unlikely mix which included astartes from the Space Wolves and the Dark Angels, five tech-priests necessary to operate on the ancient machinery working the generatorium, and strangely enough- the death cult assassin Silicia.
Inquisitor Norn took the woman aside and spoke to her in their bastardized words of Low Gothic, words that only she and the Inquisitor would understand. He said goodbye to the only family he had ever known, accepting her desire to serve the Cult of Death by playing a role in Saint Josmane's Hope's Exterminatus.
Twenty-four solar hours before this strike force was due to achieve its objective, the evacuation order was issued to those few forces the Imperium still commanded on the surface of Saint Josmane's Hope.
"Emperor help us all." Ursarkar muttered, a prayer for all the valiant defenders of the Cadian sector, as he watched the transport ships depart for the doomed penal world. Though a man possessing a fractional faith, Creed did not believe his words were heeded in any way, believing instead in the efforts by mortal hands and its results rather than the divine hand of the Emperor.
Contrary to the Lord Castellan's beliefs, however, such a simple prayer was in fact heard by the Emperor, who grows stronger every day in the Warp. Horus, ever vigilant for his father's guidance, draws ever closer to the Gate.
The Despoiler too, guided by his malevolent patrons, marches slowly but steadily towards his prize, leaving burning worlds in his wake. The pieces were all in place, ready for the players to make their move, and all creation watches as the Great Game- the culmination of a thousand years of schemes and bloodshed- draws to a close.
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