Planetfall, Plus One Point Two Hours Terran Sidereal
Lascannon beams sliced through the dust-choked air. The quartet of incandescent beams shattered through the side armor of a Raven Guard Predator, coring the battle tank through. Ammunition and promethium reserves cooked off in a lethal conflagration; detonating shells flattened surrounding Marines and pelted them with shrapnel. The Sons of Horus fire point covered a natural choke point funneling Raven Guard armored assets into a winding, narrow canyon. It had been adapted from tunnels running through the volcanic rock formations and the heavy support Legionnaires within mercilessly punished any vehicles moving in to reinforce their brethren who'd gone in on jump packs and drop pods.
The four lascannon-wielding Marines stepped back from the firing slit. Overworked charge packs squealed and whined as practiced hands disconnected them. Another four Sons of Horus bearing heavy weapons stepped up to the firing slit, joining the squad sergeant as he scanned for more targets. He looked down at the auspex in his hand, holding it just below the edge of the firing slit. A flicker of motion caught his eye; he looked back up-
The Fulcrum round punched through his faceplate, dropping him to the rough stone floor in the aftermath of its sharp, crackling gunshot. The other Marines hefted their bulky weapons, looking for the threat. A pair of inverted heavy pistols swung down from the top of the slit. Distorted trails traced lines from muzzles to helmets. One fell immediately, back of his helm blown out in a spray of bone and brain. Another growled in anger and pain as shattered fragments lacerated his face and put his eyes out. The rest shrugged heavy weapons aside, drawing bolt pistols to better fight in close quarters.
The hand cannons disappeared and a frag grenade slipped in through the aperture. It detonated with a dull crump, showering the traitor Marines with razor fragments. They opened fire, putting bolt rounds into the stone lip to drive their assailant back. No response came in and the ones at the flanks advanced on either side, moving towards the firing slit.
Outside, the Blood-Crow clung to the rock face upside-down. He ran through the layout of the interior in his mind, ignoring the impacts chipping away at the edge of the opening beneath him. Dead sergeant, no threat. Dead Marine, no opportunity. The blinded one, still growling in fury, clutching his charged plasma cannon.
Nex smiled. He drew one pistol, lowered himself fractionally, and swung down to aim into the slit. The blinded Marine had withdrawn into the middle of the squad. Excellent. A single Fulcrum round pierced the volatile exciter chamber on his plasma cannon. The only warning the Sons of Horus received was the sudden high-pitched squeal in their midst as the plasma charge spiked into catastrophic overload. Nex was already pulling himself up the stone cliff outside, eyes squeezed shut.
The plasma cannon detonated like a micro-sun in the confined dugout. Nex smiled again as he listened to the final agonized screams of the Legionaries caught within. He paused near the top of his climb, looking around for more targets. It wasn't hard; Sons of Horus squads and vehicles continued to engage their Raven Guard counterparts in a lethal series of hit-and-fade skirmishes. Thousands of corpses littered the black ground, green and black armor punctured, twisted, and shattered.
Heavy vehicles crushed dirt, stone, and flesh under their treads as they moved towards the chaotic battle lines. Spartan tanks carried Terminators forward, slewing around smoking wrecks. Fellblades and Cerberus destroyers unleashed cataclysmic firepower against lesser vehicles, destroying squadrons at a time with contemptuous volleys. Land Speeders and jetbikes fought midair duels and juked around heavier fire.
Over an hour into the battle, both sides had committed everything. Macro-transports had deposited the Titans of Legio Atarus into the Urgall Depression; the giant war machines towered over all else on the battlefield. In response the traitor engines of Legio Mortis pounded them from the fortification walls of Horus' stronghold with long ranged fire. Errant shots incinerated human auxiliaries and support crews. Gunships and strike craft made strafing runs against fortified bunkers. Anti-air emplacements filled the sky with beams and hard rounds.
This was war on a scale the Great Crusade had rarely known, concentrated into several dozen square kilometers. Nex hauled himself over the edge of the cliff and slunk into the shadows of another stone outcropping. The air practically hummed with the charge of energy weapons. Eyes drawn skyward, he watched his next victims deliver themselves to him.
The remains of a Sons of Horus assault squad landed heavily on the plateau less than twenty meters away. Only the sergeant and four others remained, and they all bore fresh wounds and battered armor. Jetpacks fizzled and sparked, and chainblades sported teeth worn down to nubs. Nex's enhanced hearing picked up the whine of overtaxed servos. The sergeant tore his rent Mark II helmet off, revealing a shaved head with a bloody gash running from scalp to chin.
The sergeant spat a wad of bloody saliva. "Bastard birds can fight, I'll give them that."
One of the other Legionaries tossed his chainsword aside; the motor had seized up and the teeth were gone. "Where in Cthonia's bowels is Kargen's squad? They were supposed to be covering our flank."
"They met the Raven."
"Damn. I always hated him, but he was a good soldier."
"We just need to hold them a while longer," the sergeant said. "Fall back to grid Gamma-Six: we'll-"
His head burst in a spray of blood and bone as Nex pushed away from the outcropping and shot him. The Moritat was already transitioning to the next target as he ran. He was a hazy blur as he put round after round into breached armor and wounded flesh. Easy prey. One managed to snap off a pair of bolt pistol shots; Nex's refractor field deflected them away. His return shots through the throat nearly decapitated the Legionary.
The last victim pulled a combat knife and hurled himself towards Nex. The Blood-Crow swayed aside from the leading chainblade strike and the follow-through knife stab, letting his opponent lunge past. He turned and shot the Son of Horus through his rear knee joint. The leg buckled but the Marine managed to half-turn, hurling his knife at the blurry Nex. The blade clattered off his chestplate, adding another scratch to hundreds of others.
Nex stepped in and put a shot through the Legionary's elbow joint. The Son of Horus growled as his chainsword slipped from fingers that no longer responded. Nex slammed his boot into the wounded knee as he holstered one pistol. Moving with a speed that surpassed even most Astartes, he reached around with both arms. His free hand snagged the jaw of the Marine's helmet and he wrenched it to the side, exposing the neck joint. He shoved one Fulcrum against the seal, angling it downwards, and put two shots into the Legionary's chest cavity. Each heavy round ruptured an enhanced heart and the Marine grew still.
Nex left the corpse still kneeling on the dark stone. He walked away from the dead squad, reloading as he went. A Javelin attack speeder screeched by overhead, engines aflame. A lascannon shot obliterated the stricken craft, scattering debris over a hundred square meters. Nex casually stepped aside from a piece of engine cowling as it sparked off the ground a meter away. He turned towards the source of the lascannon shot; the volume of dust filling the air made it hard to see what-
Ah. Dirty white and blue armor surged out from the Warmaster's stronghold. Squadrons of armored vehicles clustered around super-heavies bristling with guns. Charging Legionaries surged forwards in massed formations of infantry like long bygone eras.
The World Eaters had committed, as only the homicidally insane Legion could.
The forces of the maddened Legion hit the dispersed forces of the Raven Guard forward line – and pushed it back in a frenzy of gunfire and blades. Berserk Rampager squads crashed into Raven Guard units, screaming and hacking in wild abandon with archaic gladiator weapons. Their assault squads demonstrated none of the precision or finesse of either the Raven Guard or the Sons of Horus, slamming into their opponents like guided missiles – with much the same result.
Nex fell back; such massed open warfare was neither his strength nor his preference. He made for another stone outcropping, large enough to comfortably land a squadron of Baneblades atop. The base spread out and down like massive roots, filled with dark shadows in the nooks and crannies. Such terrain was more to his liking.
A figure in the distance caught his eye and Nex felt his twin hearts surge with adrenaline. This was an enemy who overmatched him on every level.
Angron, Primarch of the World Eaters.
The Red Angel towered over his legion, clad in bronzed armor. Though World Eater super-heavy tanks were larger in an absolute sense, none had his sheer presence. The Primarch covered meters of ground at a time, moving more like a force of nature than anything resembling humanity.
Angron's devastating charge carried him into the forward Raven Guard elements. He moved with shocking speed despite his size, leaving his gene-sons behind. Twin axes reaped Raven Guard lives, rising and falling nearly faster than the eye could see. Frantic bolter fire pattered off his armor; Angron gave no indication he was even aware of the impacts. He butchered Legionary, Sergeant, and line-captain alike without distinction. Where he went the Loyalists retreated or died – frequently both. Deliverer Terminators sacrificed themselves by the squad, piling themselves upon Angron to slow him down. The wild Primarch cast them aside and lay in with his axes. They died in silence, stoic to the last in accordance with the traditions of the Old Nineteenth.
World Eaters Terminators followed in Angron's bloody wake, stomping mangled corpses into further mush in their heavy Cataphractii armor. Power armored Legionaries formed the bulk of the charging mass behind them. Nex observed their arms and tactics with a passing interest; the World Eaters had always been known for their predilection towards violent shock assaults, but this seemed something more. This frenzy, this… obsession for closing with the enemy to rend him apart at murderously intimate distances…
For a moment Nex thought he could- No. He couldn't understand them. He could appreciate their dedication to the craft however, even as he started planning out how to increase his tally. The World Eater horde spread out like a tide washing over flat sands, driving a wedge between the Raven Guard and their fellow Legions. That would be… what was the term the Shadow Captains used? Tactically undesirable.
Armored vehicles sought out their counterparts in long-range duels as World Eaters on foot swept forward. The Raven Guard had always been quick to respond to such brute tactics however; squads made fighting withdrawals, covering one another with disciplined fire to bleed their berserker foes and increase engagement distance. The World Eaters came on heedless of their losses. Seeker and recon squads baited groups away from the mass, leading them towards the wastes for assault squads to descend and ambush in a flurry of blades, bolts, and blood.
Nex killed his first World Eaters in the shadows of the small stone mountain. He heard them before he saw them, screaming their fury into the skies. A dozen Marines rounded the mouth of the miniature stone canyon running into the base of the hill, armor spattered with gore. Trembling fists clutched bloody chainaxes and bolt pistols. They must have been hunting another group of Raven Guard; the sergeant somehow maintained the presence of mind to operate an auspex scanner. Bare-headed, he sniffed the air. Bulging implants studded the back of a many-scarred head. He swept the auspex around the canyon, then paused before panning it back slowly towards where Nex crouched motionless in the shadows.
The sergeant raised a hand, pointing towards- Nex shot him through the unprotected head twice and burst into a sideways run as the rest of the World Eaters charged. His free hand slipped down to a belt pouch. Bolt rounds slammed into his armor and tore into his long cloak. Nex kept moving, trying to maintain his distance from the berserk pack as he headed for a broken copse of stones. He fired back, crippling one World Eater. His other hand whipped out from his pouch and hurled one of his shroud bombs to the ground between him and the closing Legionnaires.
The grenade detonated with a concussive flash. Shimmering gray smoke billowed out, spreading laterally across the ground and rising up into the air. The electromagnetically charged fog scrambled sensors and scanners, and the World Eater charge faltered – barely – as they ran headlong into the smoke and autosenses malfunctioned. Such a minor thing was nowhere near enough to stop the bloodthirsty Astartes and they plowed through the smoke, more eager than ever to close on the lone Raven Guard.
Nex had already reached the edge of the stone copse; he turned, Fulcrums in both hands, and pressed the triggers as quickly as he could while backpedalling. Slugs hammered the approaching World Eaters, dropping the first two with massive torso wounds. The rest kept coming, heedless of the rounds scything into them. Nex retreated further into the stones all the while. More movement, in the canyon beyond this first squad.
He couldn't stop them all.
They would kill him. The thought didn't bother Nex, though he knew it was supposed to. This was the inevitable result of-
Incandescent blue bolts lanced in from behind, accompanied by the high-pitched screeches of plasma weapon fire. The rapid barrage cut through the World Eaters lagging behind; plasma bolts burned through armor, flesh, and bone. The leading berserkers didn't even seem to notice.
Nex dodged the closest World Eater's chainaxe; the blow shattered a stone pillar in a spray of shards. His return shots punctured both eye lenses and deformed the back of the Legionary's helmet from the inside. The target collapsed facedown. Nex had no time to appreciate the rivulets of blood spreading from the Legionary's head. Two more World Eaters lunged in from opposite sides, homing in on his blurry form from the gunfire.
A gladius glanced off his thigh, making the cameleoline inlays flicker wildly. A fist smashed into the side of his helmet; Nex turned with the blow, whirled around, and dropped the World Eater with a shot through the mouth-grill. The accuracy required to reliably stop an Astartes was a delightful challenge. Another one charged in. The next moments flew by in a scramble of activity: rapid dodges against flurries of maddened blows. Nex took several hits in a second despite his efforts.
A chainsword screeched in towards his head; his refractor field slowed and deflected the blow enough for him to just duck under it. Nex quick-stepped into a side kick, snapping his boot into the World Eater's gut. Physics took its course and the maddened Astartes doubled over. The helmet snapped down and forward, exposing the barest edge of the back collar joint. Nex struck out with one hand, placed it on the back of the World Eater's head like a captain observing an oath of moment, and pushed down. His other hand brought a Fulcrum up and around, placed the muzzle against the exposed neck joint.
The World Eater twitched and gurgled as the electrically propelled round tore through the length of his spine. He fell, unable to even scream his rage into the black earth. Next turned towards the last World Eater-
A furious mass of white and blue plate plowed into him, bowling him over in a frenzy of fists, knees, and blades. The Legionary followed him down, pinning him with his armored bulk. Nex deflected two stabs from a combat blade, felt a third scratch a deep gouge across his faceplate with a squeal of metal alloy against ceramite. The World Eater head-butted him, driving the sloped point of his Mark Three helm into Nex's. Pain flooded his senses as the impact knocked his head back against his rear collar.
The Moritat-Prime twisted his hips, pushing the World Eater top him further up and creating just enough space. His hand came up, pressed the Fulcrum against the seam under the Legionary's breastplate, and pressed the trigger repeatedly until the magazine ran dry. The other Astartes jerked and his backpack generator erupted in angry sparks. Nex rolled aside from under the Legionary, snatched up a fallen chainaxe.
The World Eater remained in place on his hands and knees, viscous blood oozing in fat droplets from the hole through his belly. Nex stared down at the sight for an instant; at that range his shots must have penetrated all the way through the torso and punctured the generator from within. The World Eater growled as he strained against both his grievous wounds and the sudden unpowered weight of his armor.
The Blood-Crow stepped over and hooked the axe's barbed heel bit underneath the edge of the Mark III helmet. He pulled it up into place, felt one of the chain teeth bite into the flexible joint- and pressed the activation rune.
The spraying blood painted such… fascinating patterns.
The World Eater didn't have much of anything beyond a ragged stump of a neck by the time Nex released the axe handle. He snatched the falling helmet from the air, let the mess of gore and bone slide out to the ground in a wet slither. He looked into the dull eye lenses; this kill was worth marking. Nex holstered his Fulcrum, drew his worn knife, and added another notch to the countless ones scarring his left pauldron.
"Nicely done." Nex looked up as another figure emerged from the shroud bomb's smoke; Melchar held both his smoking plasma pistols, covering World Eater corpses. Heat distortion ran skywards from his single thruster jump pack as the Moritat stepped over blasted bodies. "You taking trophies now?'
Nex realized he still held the World Eater's helmet and dropped it without further ado. "What is it?"
"You're welcome, by the way. I know you're just overcome with gratitude, unable to find the words to unleash the poet inside."
Nex said nothing, just reloaded his Fulcrums.
"Never mind," Melchar sighed. "Did you deactivate your vox connections again?"
"Transmissions reveal positions."
"And allow for coordination and communication. Such as orders from the Primarch, for instance."
That got Nex's attention. "What were his orders?"
"New targets of priority: eliminate Twelfth Legion command personnel."
"Angron?"
Melchar laughed. "Not even you, Huntsman. Only the Raven can take him. No, we're taking out captains, sergeants – disrupt their leadership, and most of the mad bastards fall to pieces."
Nex looked around at the scattered corpses. "But they do that anyway."
"That's not what… never mind." Melchar looked away towards where the sounds of the furious battle continued. "Lord Corax wants us to disrupt the World Eaters driving between us and the Iron Tenth."
"Affirmative." Nex started walking towards the little canyon's mouth, then paused. He was supposed to do something in situations like this. What was it again? Ah. "Thanks for the update."
"Blood-Crow." The call stopped Nex. Melchar almost never called him that. He looked back at the other Moritat, both their faces hidden beneath implacable facemasks. "Try not to die," Melchar said. "You're still needed."
Strange thing to say. Nex stared silently as Melchar took to the air with a burst of his jump pack, launching off to seek more targets. He started off himself, walking at first before breaking into an easy jog. Melchar's words echoed in his mind. What did it mean to be needed? His cameleoline flickered and settled as he ran – and as the memories resurged.
He'd asked the Primarch once, years ago. "What will become of us when we are no longer needed?"
Corax had raised an eyebrow, looked down at Nex. "Not like you to ask something like that, Kaedes."
"You're the one who told me to work on my… integration skills." Nex shrugged. For some reason he'd always found it easier to speak with the Primarch than any others, though he'd always heard most people found it otherwise. "I've overheard members of the Thirteenth speak of it – often. The Moritat cadres in particular."
"Do they now? How like Roboute's sons, planning for the peace before the Crusade is finished. My brother – ever the idealist."
"And you're not?" Nex crossed his arms. "The Raven Lord freed a prison moon purely so he could recruit its inmates into his Legion?"
"And the others say you have no sense of humor."
Nex stared blankly for a long moment.
"Tell me, Kaedes. How many kill markings do you have carved into your armor?"
"I stopped counting at… two thousand and seventeen."
"Quite a tally."
Another shrug. "Pales compared to yours."
"True." Corax grew silent for a moment. "My father once spoke of the necessity of driving back the darkness of Old Night, of bringing illumination to humanity across the galaxy."
"Ironic then that you taught your Legion to operate in the shadows."
"Not irony, Kaedes. Purpose." The Primarch glanced around his chambers once, at the many pools of darkness he'd carefully cultivated in the design." We operate from the shadows, and we do terrible things, but always with purpose. Always for the ultimate better of humanity, of the Imperium."
Nex said nothing; Corax believed – saw and comprehended and embraced that ideal. The Primarch fought for a cause.
Nex just fought because it was all he knew.
"You've been the tip of the spear more than once." Corax's lip curled as he echoed the phrase of Horus and his glory-hungry Legion. "The instrument of vengeance. You tell me, Kaedes. Do you believe the day will come that the Moritat – or indeed the Astartes – are no longer required?"
"I... don't think on it much."
A ghost of a smile crossed Corax's face. "Has it occurred to you that in some ways the Moritat are to the Legions what the Astartes as a whole are to humanity?"
"Because I'm such a master of philosophy?"
"Of course; that's why I keep you around." Corax chuckled, then grew somber. "Think on it, Kaedes. The Moritat bear upon themselves onerous duties, dark burdens. You are called upon to perform deeds the rest of the Legion cannot do – or should not do without sacrificing its character. What is that but a reflection of what the Astartes are meant to be for all humanity?"
Nex said nothing, merely cocked his head to the side. Corax nodded once; the audience was over. Nex blinked after a second, returned the nod, and walked away like a shadow.
Only much later did it occur to him that the Primarch hadn't answered his question.