Chapter 7: Retaliation

FW Sentinel

District 13-4-7 C

3 hours after invasion…

SG-5782 fired off a 3-bolt pattern at the grey-clad enemy, ducking back into the burned-out hulk of a shop as he reloaded to avoid the inevitable response. Half his squad was lying around him in various conditions of injury, victims of a projectile artillery strike on their position. Some hostile troops had tried to rush the building, only to be cut down by the E-Web team set up across the street. They were still there, chattering away at the enemy and gaining quite an impressive kill tally.

An echoing crash and a muffled explosion evidently put an end to that, followed by a low rumble that signalled the collapse of the neighbouring block of homes. The rather unlikely survivors of that, five in number, stumbled out disoriented and injured. 5782 was about to call out to them, to beckon them over to him, but his words died in his throat just as his would-be comrades were cut down by a hail of ill-aimed kinetic projectiles.

Looking down the road, the stormtrooper was greeted by a sight beyond imagining. Some crude track-propelled slab of metal was advancing towards him, its multiple gun barrels tracking left and right in a relentless search for targets. Its top turret mounted a short, stubby gun, no doubt meant for close-in urban fighting and for demolishing buildings. While the majority of its weapons were crude slugthrowers, the hull-mounted cannon was undoubtedly a laser cannon of some sort, a blue beam of light occasionally lancing out to take out some imagined target. Some primitive attempt at camouflage was painted on its matte grey hull, despite its tall rhomboid shape being an immediate giveaway to its position.

Ducking back behind a suddenly fragile-seeming duracrete wall, 5782 frantically stabbed at his comms suite, finding a direct link to HQ after what seemed like an hour. A faint buzz of static greeted him, phasing out to be replaced by hysterical screaming and shouting in Huttese.

"Er…Zero, this is Triton. We've got a tank inbound on a south-southwest approach, sector 43-B. No anti-armour weaponry on-hand, requesting immediate assistance, over."

"Ah, frak. Triton, this is Zero. Inbound armoured vehicle acknowledged. No support available at this time. Hold on."

Cursing, 5782 turned back to the rather slow tank while hefting his thermal detonator and pondering his situation. True, it had enough baradium to crack open a freighter (a Corellian one anyways), but there was always the bigger threat to consider. The thunderous booming of the cannon followed by the hab next door collapsing dispelled that thought. Frak it, that tank was the bigger threat and it needed to go NOW.

"Triton Squad, prime dets! Target is that tank moving up the street!"

5782 was surprised at how quiet his voice sounded on the squadnet in comparison to that tank's loud engine. Core, how does anybody not notice that a klick away? Taking a final peek around the wall and marvelling at how he was supposed to kill that…thing, he thumbed the final activation code very carefully. A single green light lit up, signalling the device's detonation in five seconds.

"Fire in the hole!"

His cry was echoed around the comms by his fellow troopers, half a dozen plastoid-shelled cylinders arcing through the air to land around the tank. Three. Two. One. Huh, it must not have explo—a dull thump cut off that thought and blasted it with a Star Destroyer, though evidently not the tank judging by the still-pervasive sound of the treads rolling over shattered transparisteel.

5782 glanced over yet again, and was greeted with a terribly frightening sight. The tank's side sponsons were ripped off by the force of the explosion, the primitive slugthrowers visible atop a building's hollow shell. The frontal laser cannon was likewise in tatters, its barrel somehow only bent and dented by the blast, although that alone would render it useless. The hull, on the other hand, seemed to be none the worse for wear and aside from a few charred plates and scrapes on the paint, the damned thing just kept coming. To top matters off, that bloody Demolisher cannon still sat smugly in its turret, tracking back and forth in a bid to find targets, buildings, anything to exact retribution upon. The men of Triton squad hid frantically, doing their best to avoid the deadly maw of that cannon.

5782 was aware of a dull pounding in the background, yet dismissed it as the firing of artillery. The tank was still the primary threat, and his attention was still focused upon it. That noise seemed to be growing louder, but perhaps it was just enemy artillery opening up closer nearby. He turned back to the tank, racking his mind for a possible solution to the inevitably messy end that was slowly approaching. Then the commercial building half a kilometre back EXPLODED, showering the road with a hail of dust and debris. The tank's turret swivelled over to aim up the street, though it hadn't fired yet. Perhaps its gun was limited by its range?

SG-5782 glanced back up the street, to be greeted by a truly awe-inspiring sight. The cloud of dirt and chunks of duracrete had dissipated, to be replaced by the durasteel-clad shell of an Imperial All Terrain Armoured Transport. A large-bore shell flew from the enemy tank towards it, burrowing into the ground and detonating harmlessly. The AT-AT halted for a moment, then a bright beam of light lanced out towards the tank. Then another. Then another. The first few shots seemed to have no effect, but volley after volley cut through the air. An ear-shattering explosion later, and the turret of the enemy vehicle was laying a hundred metres away from its hull.

"Armoured support courtesy of the tactical genius of Admiral Thrawn. One platoon and a scout speeder deploying, then we're moving up. Have a nice day!"

5782 could barely speak as the 22 metres-tall behemoth knelt down to unload its precious cargo, hydraulics whirring and complaining as it stood back up and strode onwards. A few kilometres to the right, yet another AT-AT marched forth, loosing volleys of coherent light and shrugging off firepower equivalent to half an army's. The scream of incoming artillery shook him back to awareness, impacting a few hundred metres short of his position and showering a statue of a Stormtrooper with a decade's worth of replaced duracrete. Ducking back into cover, he slowly got back onto the comms system.

"Uh, Zero? Triton here. Tank eliminated, and there's half a dozen AT-ATs storming up the boulevard. All clear, but if you could take out that arty I wouldn't mind."

"Roger. Tasking a flight of TIE Bombers now."

"Thanks. Triton out."

Looking back towards the newly-deployed platoon, 5782 jogged briskly towards the Lieutenant commanding.

"SG-5782, Brevet Corporal, commanding, Triton Squad, Sentinel Garrison, reporting. 7 men, including myself. This is an amalgamation of two squads, with me as the senior trooper surviving. Sir."

"Lieutenant Fil, 501st Legion. Commanding 2nd Platoon, detached from Torrent battalion. Get your men ready, we move in five. What can you tell me about our enemy?"

5782 was taken aback for a second. 501st? Where the hells did they come from? They were the personal troops of Lord Vader, cherrypicked from the best of the best. There's absolutely no reason for them to be here, unless…He was dragged away from his thoughts by the Lieutenant's repeated question.

"They use primitive, if highly effective weaponry sir. Their tank that your ride kindly shot up was armed with a turret-mounted cannon that can utterly destroy buildings, though limited by its short range. It had a hull-mounted laser cannon, strong enough to put a serious dent in metres-thick duracrete. Two slugthrowers mounted in side sponsons, deadly if it gets you dead-on. Basically, very bad news. Their infantry have some kind of blaster, not too effective against our body bucket but a few shots in a row can pierce and kill. Think I saw a flamethrower further back, but it got taken out before it could get us. Other than that, I have no idea. Sir. Er…can I get your autograph? Orders, sir?"

FW Sentinel

Blood Guardians Temporary Command Post

T+4 hours

"Brother-Captain. The enemy has deployed light titan equivalents, at least a score in number. The Guard has lost several battalions attempting to stop them, and are now pulling back fast. The only Russes that can seem to harm them are Vanquishers, and those are scarce. The titans seem not to have any significant shielding, relying instead on their heavy armour. Their shields appear to be similar to the power fields of Ork design, although they are capable of recharging. Should we redeploy Devastators to destroy them?"

"Affirmative, Lieutenant. I think a dozen lascannons should put paid to them. How fares the air war?"

"The enemy has control of several corridors throughout the city, although our fighters are slowly wearing them down. The enemy fighters have absolutely no armour whatsoever—even a bolter can harm them! What they do have, however, is speed and numbers. Their lascannons can pack a mean punch, having taken out several Valkyries that were in supposedly safe areas. We maintain nominal superiority, although that is subject to change."

"Understood. Scramble a few Stormtalons and send them roaming. Do we have control of the orbitals?"

"Our three ships cannot possibly command the entirety of the planet, sir. They are in a holding position above us, in geosynchronous orbit. The enemy has the remainder of the space, and unfortunately have been seen to be landing forces. That seems to be the source of those titans, sire."

Brother-Captain Lucian Westwynter took a good long draw of his tabac stick, exhaling smoke before throwing it onto the ground and grinding it with his heel. He let out a single syllable, that one word embodying his anger and rage.

"THRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWN!"

ISD Subjugator

In orbit around FW Sentinel

5 hours after invasion…

Admiral Thrawn smiled as he heard the Space Marine captain's cry of anger, his Imperial Intelligence operatives furiously hunting down and throwing aside the enemy's comms encryptions. With the Marine's communications network hacked, Thrawn easily dominated the battlefield. That, combined with the unexpected deployment of AT-ATs, enabled him to get the advantage over his foe. Their sudden attack notwithstanding, the Chiss admiral finally had this battle won. He hoped. The involvement of Death Squadron, the 501st, and their lethal master had been…unplanned for, but thankfully it was for the best. Lord Vader wished to lay eyes upon this new foe, and what Vader wants, he gets.

Thrawn studied the holomap yet again, trying to find meaning amongst the black and white dots amongst a sea of blue. Black was Imperial, obviously, and white was the…other…Imperial forces. Opposites, yet alike in so many ways. The sheer fanaticism exhibited by his opponents rivalled even COMPForce's, and their shouted cries of DEATH TO THE XENOS BASTARDS practically came straight out of the New Order's doctrines, although suitably spiced up and rendered more appetizing to a standard footsoldier. Speaking of which, his counterpart tended to deploy mostly normal, unenhanced human infantry armed with generic blasters. Those men were inconsequential, their main tactics seeming to consist of either rush them and to hell with the casualties or, more daunting, hide in the ruins and smoke them out; they can't kill us if they can't find us. Their heavy support, on the other hand, seemed to be the greater threat. Strong armour, powerful weaponry, and sheer numbers ran in their favour, their only shortcomings their low speed and terrible rear armour. The problem was, those things were so damn unstoppable and overpowered that no Stormtroopers managed to survive long enough to take advantage of that, let alone standard Imperial Army troopers.

Even more troubling were the relatively-rare 'Space Marines' that roamed the battlefield. While Stormtroopers could hold their own, and even surpass the so-called 'Imperial Guard' in a firefight, those Marines were something different entirely. Every single engagement with them resulted in the quick and efficient eradication of the troops involved, with little time for those unfortunate men to even send a distress call. From what little he gathered, these Marines were a force to be reckoned with. Impenetrable armour, primitive yet devastatingly effective weapons, gene-enhanced strength and size, inhuman reaction times, faster than an AT-AT, and stealthier than a Sith despite their great bulk. Not a single trooper could survive an encounter with them, full-size platoons all the way up to companies simply disintegrating in a matter of moments. One second all was fine, the next comes the deafening staccato of their slugthrowers and perhaps the roar of a chainsword. After that is sheer unnerving silence, or perhaps merciful static. Perhaps Lord Vader had something stashed away that could even the odds? Thrawn didn't think so. Nonetheless, it never hurts to check…

FW Sentinel

District 23-9-7 B

7 hours after invasion…

A flight of sleek Lambda-class shuttles powered through the atmosphere, venting waste heat and noisily landing. They stood out in the night sky like meteors, as if daring the enemy to notice. For a moment, the air was clear. Then hell erupted, autocannon shells reaching out to swat the shuttles away. A pair of Lightnings blew past them, their lascannons and missiles turning one into a shower of sparks and debris. The rest carried on, oblivious to the lone casualty. Belatedly, several TIE Interceptors lifted off to escort them, chasing away the jetfighters before establishing a loose formation surrounding the survivors.

Descending like bolts from a turbolaser, the remaining shuttles came in for a hard landing. Retrothrusters flared at the last moment, lancing out in blind disregard for the comfort of the shuttles' precious cargo. As the Interceptors soared above, the silhouettes of several large, carapaced, humanoid things unloaded. These were followed by two dozen smaller ones, followed in turn by several slight models. In a scene repeated all over the planet, and in the past the galaxy, the beings stood motionless for a moment as the shuttles took back to the skies, clawing for altitude before shooting towards the orbiting Star Destroyers. A single low-pitched, monotone voice echoed throughout the empty city square as the shadows marched forth.

"Roger roger."

A/N: And there you have it! Yet another, long-awaited (I hope) chapter of Faith and Fury! OC's will be introduced starting next chapter, and whatever could Thrawn have found in the bowels of Death Squadron? Find out next time, in another episode of Faith and Fury!