A Storm of Fire and Steel, Part Two

Lester, Crassus, Connor and Nolt had cleared out the chimera's troop bay to make a command center. The casualty reports had finally slowed, and the Vendolanders took stock of their losses. Two hundred and seventy three men dead, with another forty wounded. The 8th and 9th companies were obliterated, 11th and 7th were at half strength, and Connor's 4th were down to sixty soldiers. Still, it could have been worse.

The reserve's arrival had given them precious time to reform their line, forcing the Mechanicus forces to withdraw to heavier cover. Spats of gunfire rang out across the yard while the two armies traded blows. Neither side wanted to commit to an attack, so these small exchanges were sporadic at best. Nolt arranged the holochart projector, showcasing the relative positions of the Skitarii formations and the Imperial Guard's defensive line. Lorald's Jagers were arrayed along the overpass above, giving the Guardsmen a much welcomed advantage over their foe.

"I think it's clear that neither side wants this to go on any further," said Nolt. He pointed to the main warehouse that the Tech Guard were surrounding. "Look at their patterns, whatever is inside, the Magos are determined to protect. Often, Skitarii units are slave rigged to better coordinate with one another. Most likely what happened when Banastre ordered the attack, we tripped their alarm mechanism, putting their security forces on a defensive protocol."

"Destroy the threat in order to protect their assets," surmised Connor. "That doesn't explain what they are doing out here in the first place. The Mechanicus have been given access to the primary forge in order to conduct repairs, they were not authorized to usage of the outer areas. And they certainly wouldn't have been given permission to hoard weapons stockpiles and fire on patrols."

"Believe me, Commissar, the Techpriests willingly ignore guidelines when it benefits them," said Nolt. "Still, I believe that it would be best if we settle this diplomatically. They are our allies, and we cannot afford to lose their support."

Lester spoke up, "But what if they hold us accountable for this incident? We fired the first shot, it's likely the AdMech will want the man responsible."

"Banastre," said Connor bluntly.

"Yes, Commissar," said Lester. "he attacked without assessing the situation first, and we've paid for it. What do you plan to do with him?"

"If the Magos demand him, then I will oblige. Otherwise, I will deal with him as I see fit."

"You're the Commissar," said Lester. "He's your responsibility."

"As are you all," said Connor sharply. "Come, if we are going to talk, like Colonel Nolt suggests, then let's be on with it."

Marroth crushed fallen bodies underfoot, leading a mass of cultists across the outskirts of Spire Legis. The Imperial Guard were falling back on all fronts, trying to draw them into the flat wastes outside the spire, where they thought they could hold off the Cultist push. But the Guardsmen were trapped in the confusing ruins, finding themselves doubling back over and over as they desperately tried to pull their tanks away from the surge. Marroth's followers had no such qualms, clambering over the wreckage in waves, encircling and slaughtering the Imperials.

The Vandis cowards were nowhere to be seen, however. Marroth and the other Chosen had been given only the power of the cults, rather than the uprising's standing military force. Aspirants with clubs and ragged clothes formed their ranks, making up in fanaticism what they lacked in skill. It seemed to be working, but Marroth still wondered what the Hounds had in store.

Smoke and flames billowed freely through the air, casting a flaring background to the slaughter taking place before Marroth's eyes. The cultists, spurred on by their chants, drove at the Guard without pause, braving the flames to club their hated foes to death with their bare hands.

"My lord!" squealed a horribly scarred follower. The wretched man must have been seventy, what skin that was left clinging tightly to his hunched skeletal body. "My, lord, the Imperials have been broken here! They have fallen back towards one of the outer hab blocks, they're making a final stand. We have the survivors surrounded!"

Marroth made an exaggerated sniff, making sure the follower knew of the Legionnaire's distaste for his presence. "Burn them, and bring me their heads. Mighty Khorne will relish in their bloodshed."

Connor. Nolt and Lester cautiously crossed the body strewn yard, keeping their weapons at arm's length to indicate their intentions. A group of Skitarii approached with their rifles raised, forming a protective circle around their Techpriest. The two groups met in the middle of the battlefield. Connor approached the Techpriest. The Skitarii trained their weapons on her, but the priest raised his hand, and the soldiers lowered their aim.

"Magos Dolthem," said Connor. "Care to explain this to me? Use small words if it makes you feel better."

"I would think, Commissar," said Dolthem, "that you would be the ones that have some explaining to do. Such as your indiscriminate assault on my operations here."

"I didn't realize that stealing from PDF warehouses was covered by the Mechanicum's charter. Or employing locals to smuggle supplies. We are simply following procedure, it is not our fault that your actions mirror those of the cultist threats."

"Had Governor Derosa simply allowed me to continue with my studies and provided me the means and personnel, I would not have needed to go behind her back on this. You, Commissar, of all people should understand the difficulties of importing materiel from the Munitorium."

Connor wasn't impressed, "That still does not explain your actions here. The Priesthood is supposed to be working towards reviving Angel Forge, not raiding warehouses for your pet projects, Dolthem."

"Oh, but I am working towards preserving the Forge, Commissar," chastised Dolthem. "I doubt that your linear mind could understand the complexities of my operation, but I can assure you that it is for the Imperium's best interests."

"You'll fix the Forge using nuclear warheads?" scoffed Connor.

Dolthem tilted his head slightly, allowing his optics cluster to refocus into a glare. "Precisely, Commissar," he said plainly. "The warheads themselves are simply a means to an end, like all things in the Imperium. I have located the source of the Forge's ailment. A virus implanted in the Forge's matrix by the Black Legion crippled it's machine spirit, leaving the Forge in a state of disrepair. However, it is reversible."

Connor frowned. "Go on."

"Of course, Commissar. The virus acted as a leech, rather than a complete kill switch. The damage can be reversed, but the problem was discovering where the leech ran to. This was quite simple. Spire Legis. The situation with Angel Forge can be seen as a microcosm of the crisis plaguing the entire Hive. One extremity that is the cause of all our woes, crippling the Imperium's ability to act. All we need to do is remove the Cause, and the symptoms shall fade."

Lester stepped forward, "You want to destroy an entire Spire? There could still be people in there! You cannot possibly think that destroying Legis will fix your precious factory."

Dolthem sighed like a parent dealing with an ignorant child. "Major, you and every other person here knows that Legis was stripped clean of any loyal citizenry or strategic value long ago. It is nothing but a cancerous expanse that the Imperial Guard has failed time and again to secure. If I'm not mistaken, Legis was also quite an effective diversion. Weren't the Vendoland Regiments dragged into a protracted siege that left the Capital Spire open for attack?"

Lester fumed, enraged by the bitter memories Dolthem was picking apart. The Magos simply stared at him with a blank expression, which only further incensed the Major. Before he could respond, Nolt placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.

"I thought so," said Dolthem. "A worthless shell of a city, and a constant threat for every loyal citizen in Angel Hive. It's destruction will solve both our problems. You will be free to operate, and I shall conclude my business with the Forge's restoration. Do we have an accord?"

Connor turned to Nolt and Lester. "I don't know what he is playing at, but he is offering us a chance we haven't had in months," said Connor. "Even if his sob story about how this will solve the Forge problem, we can't pass up the chance to drive the Archenemy out of the Hive for good."

"You can be serious," hissed Lester. "He's already had his Cogboys shooting at us, he's lying. It's just another trick."

"You're both right," said Nolt. "We don't have any reason to trust him, but to be frank, we haven't given him any reason to trust us. We need a mutual exchange."

Connor was silent. She knew what Nolt was suggesting. She didn't like it, but it seemed as though she had no choice. Sighing heavily, she said, "Very well, I'll make the arrangements."

"Yes, yes! Flee you worms! Let the embrace of Nurgle catch you should I not!" Marroth gleefully hacked and burned the routing Guardsmen to shreds. The Dead Zone was aflame, the Chosen silhouetted against the inferno like grim sentinels, bringing death to all around. This was too easy, at the slightest provocation, the Vendolanders broke before them.

The fire would spread, a great path towards the Capital would be forged on the corpses of the slain. Marroth would lead the charge, none could stand before him, and all would follow behind. Victory was theirs. He could taste it on is lips.

Through the ash choked skies, three lights streaked through the air. Marroth focused on them, trying to discern their origin. The fires were too great, the smoke too thick. The leader of the "Chosen" realized too late the light's true nature.

From his high balcony atop Spire Legis, Zephus-Hassan took one last look at the doomed Spire, before returning to the summoning circle within the chamber. The Chosen sacrifices had served their purpose, whether they had known or not, it was no consequence. Stepping into the flickering Warpfire, the Spire disappeared as Zephus was transported away from that dead husk for the last time.

The night sky was suddenly filled with searing white light. Moments later a muffled boom was heard, echoing across Meridian's capital hive. Spire Legis was no more than a smoking crater, reduced to ashes in a manner of seconds. The shockwave leveled its great towers, and the huge force of the blast sent a wall of flame rushing out across the Dead Zone, devastating the land for miles in all directions. Whatever was left in the corrupted Spire died along with it.

Connor winced as the sonic boom reached Angel Forge. Her face was drawn, as was her bolt pistol. At her feet knelt Colonel Banastre of the 85th Vendoland. A mixture of anger and betrayal washed over his face as he stared at her, unblinking. Connor's face remained impassive.

Behind her, Dolthem watched intently. "Well Commissar, be on with it. That was the arrangement, Spire Legis in exchange for the man responsible for tonight's transgression."

"The Imperial Guard does not tolerate cowardice in the line of fire," said Connor. "Neither should it do so in the face of incompetence of command."

"He will be of no loss to you then," said Dolthem. "I am sure a replacement for his position shall be readily available."

Connor bit her lip, remaining steady. Banastre spat at her, his face livid. "I hope that you live long enough to regret this, bitch. I want you to remember this day, the day you made the call that doomed all of us."

"This day would have come for you sooner or later, Colonel," snapped Connor. "Any words you say now are merely excuses to delay the inevitable."

"Well then quit stalling, and do your damn job! You'll get yours, I guarantee it."

Connor pressed the pistol to Banastre's forehead, her finger on the trigger. She fired. Colonel Banastre's headless body slumped to the ground. Connor let her arm go slack. As far as first executions went, it was a feeling she wished she would never again experience.

Not once had Connor ever killed a soldier in the line of duty during her short time with the Vendolanders. And yet here she was, standing over the body of a fellow soldier. He may have been a useless fool, but he was still a servant of the Emperor. His blood was on her hands. And she would have to live with that.

Magos Dolthem clasped his hands together. "Then our business is concluded. I shall retire to my studies. See to it that this mess is cleaned up, will you? We both have work to tend to, I am sure."

The Skitarii dispersed, dragging their dead away from the battlefield. Connor continued to stare at Banastre's corpse, saying nothing. Lester and Nolt approached her. "Ma'am? Are you alright?" asked Lester.

There seemed little to say for Connor. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Author's note: So ends City Slumber, Midnight Thunder. Be sure to stay tuned as the Struggle for Meridian takes a turn for the Green.