Disclaimer: I own Jackshit.
XXX
Sensors were already working around the clock as gravity and the build up of heat along the outer layer of the Spacehulk finally registered. Power levels were being reported further away, rising as a dozen of the captured Tech-Priests reported that they recognized the signatures as the engines of a dozen Warships. Not only that, but they recognized it as Warships powering their weapons up and getting ready for battle, though I doubted that. As far as they knew, this was just a Spacehulk that had dropped into orbit by the whims of the Warp, not impossible, but certainly unbelievably long odds, but not overly so when one considered the Warp Storm in the system. Still, given those rising power signatures, I didn't want to try my luck at stress testing the capsule I had created against Warship-grade weapons batteries. Sure, the numbers came back with the kind of results that said that I should be able to tank the hits, but I knew that there was a significant difference between theory and practical. This was especially true in a universe where Gods were actively trying to fuck over anyone that didn't follow their doctrine.
As such, I tried very hard not to focus on what I couldn't change and instead focus on what I could change, or at least influence. Namely, getting down to the planet below in one piece.
With that in mind I turned inwards. An instant later the systems that made up the core of the massive pod became visible to me as I isolated specific systems. Inertia compensation was something I had added to the design to allow the entire construct to survive hits from stray objects and glancing blows from lesser weapons. The power I was pumping into it meant that it could do a decent job at this, but against the main guns of a 8 kilometre long monster of a ship? I found myself doubtful of it's chances. For that reason, I worked quickly to puzzle out a jury-rigged system that connected it to reworked prediction systems ripped straight out from the database I had. The original purpose of them was to predict where shots would land from fixed structures, mainly land and air defense turrets, along with fixed artillery, but a quick bit of hack-n-slash coding allowed me to change the parameters of the program to fit what I needed.
It was crude, inefficient and made my inner Programmer cringe at just how badly put together it was, but a quick simulation showed it would work. That simple fact was good enough for me, especially if it meant the difference between making landfall and being turned into a pile of scrap metal.
A quick glance back at the sensors showed the warships eating into the distance, slowly coming closer as energy signatures built up to the breaking point. It was at that moment that one of the leading escorts got into weapon's range and opened fire with a mixed salvo. Torpedoes launched from tubes which were followed closely by the firing of Lances that blinked across the distance between weapon and target. Naturally, it was the laser weapons that hit the Spacehulk first, burning through ruined armor belts and melting internal components as they carved a hole through several sections. Immediately, it became clear what they were trying to do as the weapon's fire started slowly cutting a line through the ships and asteroids of the Hulk.
Soon, more ships came into range of the Spacehulk, each opening up with their own weapons as sensors picked up Macrocannon shells and more torpedoes even as Lances struck armored bulkheads. The vast section that I had hollowed out was ruptured near-instantly as a lance strike impaled through the superstructure, audio sensors picked up the vibrations of the ship ripping itself apart even as it continued to spin. The semi-functional inertia compensators of the vast ships giving out as the failing power grids of the ships suffered further under the combined firepower of an entire fleet. Keeping an eye on the ships, I counted more shots being fired as weak points were targeted. Already, sensors reported a dozen chunks of the Spacehulk falling towards the planet's surface, all coated in flames as they met the atmosphere and kept going, pulled down by the planet's gravity.
Two minutes after the bombardment started, the torpedoes finally arrived. I couldn't help but feel a tightening in my non-existent gut at that, knowing that those same torpedoes could spell the end of me as they made contact. Dozens of the self-propelled projectiles impacted the Spacehulk at roughly the same time, a chain reaction spreading, amplified by the earlier damage that was enough to tip the scale. What little structural integrity that the wrecks still had finally disappeared. Supports snapped and gave way as they collapsed. Pieces were being torn free with the final collapse of what remained of the power grid. Even my Pod wasn't left unscathed, a torpedo managing to break through the thinned hull of the wreck my Pod was on, detonating and flooding the space with energy produced from the explosion of a short-lived star.
Void shields and thick armor were, perhaps, the only thing that saved me even as most of the chains holding the Pod were melted into free-floating atoms. What few chains remained were too few to hold the massive bulk of the cylinder without snapping, having already been weakened beyond measure. The pod itself was still un-breached, despite what had happened, but had still lost at least two metres of armor on one side of the vast object. Perhaps that was for the best, especially as it gave me a chance to escape certain doom as a massive section of the wall was ripped free and thrown away by the explosion of the massive Plasma warhead. With that, I hung outside the vast structure, only a single chain held the pod in place, something I hoped no one noticed, but knew better than to try my luck as I checked the positions of both the Spacehulk and the planet. A quick bit of math was enough to tell me what I needed, allowing me to release the last chain just as more Lance strikes, Macrocannon shells and torpedoes started to impact the significantly smaller hulk.
The moment I was away, I lowered the output of the reactor as low as I was willing to allow it, if only to avoid being spotted. Imperium Inertia compensators showed their worth at this point, overpowered enough to allow Voidships to literally ram one another, they barely even flinched from the heavy G-forces while the thick armor laughs off the heat of re-entry in to the atmosphere. I kept a careful watch above me, looking at the sensor returns of slightly upgraded Imperial Augur systems, I felt as though I was holding my breath even as I watched the orbiting ships close in to what remained of the massive Hulk. I saw weapons lancing out and carving entire sections free from the ragged mess of metal and rock, cutting it down further and further. Macrocannon shells smashed apart weak points while Lances were used to sever more stubborn sections. Torpedoes were mainly used to destroy what little remained, ruining the hardened structures and blasting them apart.
Even knowing that the fleet would potentially wish to remove the Hulk first, I still felt like one of them might turn around at any moment and open fire. The only saving grace was probably the sheer fact that I was in the middle of a rather large cloud of other scrap metal, most pieces being of similar, or smaller, size. The metal rain was something I was glad for, if only because it put more potential targets between me and anyone that might want to shoot me down.
Even so, that didn't make the ride down to the planet any easier, especially given that they banged against my pod.
Sure, I knew I'd survive, but that sure as hell didn't mean that I enjoyed the experience...
XXX
Even as I made contact with the surface of the planet, I didn't stop to relax.
Literally, I had landed in the middle of a clusterfuck that would only get worse the moment that someone figured out that I was here, not to mention what I was. The fact that my pod had landed on North West coast of the main continent probably didn't help that either, especially given that, if I remembered the game correctly, that meant that I had basically landed in the back garden of the Sisters of Battle. I grimaced within the simulation knowing that those Bolter-Bitches would be annoying, especially as I remembered having to deal with that ever-fucking Living Saint and it's assorted Bullshit.
As such, the first thing I did was to unlock my units. The blast doors were thrown open as Engineers and Collectors literally ripped them out of their housings and Reclaimed them. Fabricator and Research Walkers quickly advanced out of the newly made hole as Sentries quickly spread out to patrol the area. As my basic units progressed, I had them shoot the ground with specially designed ammunition, a spike of metal equipped with a mixture of EM, vibrational, and ground-penetrating radar systems. These spikes were to be part but a small part of an early warning system, spread out over a grid to allow me a level of omni-sense within an area around my initial build location.
While the Sentries were working on that, the Engineers and Collectors continued to take the Pod apart as my Walkers continued to construct more units, Engineers especially. My primary concern at the moment was of suffering from a sudden orbital bombardment, the advanced sensors of my Research Walkers picking out the dozens of ships in orbit with frightening ease only helped to underline that point. As such, first priority was to turtle up and build defenses like nobody's business. Void Shields were the only form of effective shielding that I had at this point, especially in the form of defenses that could defend against an orbital attack, and I only had a finite amount of those, hence my actions to cannibalize the pod. The Warp Drive, as it currently stood, wasn't something I needed, which meant that it too could be turned into more Void Shield emitters.
All thought of the potential cost was abandoned as I pushed for mass and energy to be shoved towards the current construction work of the Void Shield projectors that were quickly arranged around the Crater. Each Void Shield Emitter was placed within a tower, 50 metres tall and shaped like a twisted triangular prism, the surface lined with indented lines that segmented the surface of each tower as they rose into the air.
Internal volume was completely turned over to power generation as the very top of the towers concealed the primary emitters under a triangular pyramid of metal, a further protection. Said metal was actually half a metre of armor plating with a dedicated self-repair system for each segment, with the twisted design giving more apparent armor to a segment based on where an attack hit. Six of these towers quickly sprang up around my initial landing site, forming a hexagon around said landing site with a radius of three kilometres from center to any one of the 'corners', where the towers were located.
I felt the drain of power like a physical thing as those same towers came online. Not really draining my reserves but still being power hungry enough for me to notice it as they came online before seeming to shimmer out of sight to the visual spectrum. Looking up with any of my units, however, showed truth of the matter, the massive shields still above me clearly visible to my enhanced senses, the thickest section holding strong above my landing site even as Walkers moved around, directing other units and beginning the work to build a base of operations under the safety of the overpowered shields.
With that done, I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath, not stopping, but giving myself time to think without the thought of immediate death hanging over me like the Sword of Damocles. As I did so, I paid special attention to the sensor returns from the various units scattered around. Sentries were putting together a sensor grid that quickly started to stretch towards the edge of the crater, all this while sprinting without pause to it and not even paused as they snapped off shots into the ground to launch the Sensor Spikes over two metres downwards. Combined with the sensors of the Research Walkers, they gave me a good idea of the surrounding area even as I linked automated systems to those same sensors to trigger an alert if they picked up returns that fit any number of profiles, ranging from lone scouts to entire regiments.
Finally, with that done, I had a chance to look at something that had appeared during the sudden chaos of re-appearing in reality. Namely, it was an internal system alert, it's reference code stated it to be non-critical, but the fact that it was something internal to myself made me cautious of it as I hesitantly opened it. A quick skim over it caused me to pause for an instant as I read it again, more thoroughly this time, getting more detail, but with the basic gist of it remaining the same. Just to be sure, I ran a quick system check and couldn't help but smile in vicious glee at what I found.
All 36 of my Resource Cores were currently online...
XXX
An hour after making landfall, and things were going brilliantly for me.
With the power of 36 Resource Cores to draw from, I suddenly had a vast wealth of both mass and energy to pull from as I started building up both defenses and infrastructure, to facilitate this, I started by putting down structures that I was calling Hex-Foundations. These structure were a combination Metal Extractor, Power Generator, and storage for both, allowing me to put together a rapidly expanding income base that grew exponentially as more and more pieces were put down. They were all designed to interlock together, letting me put multiple pieces down near each other and allow them to quickly lock together and form a stable, 5 metre thick layer of metal that I could build upon. From there, I built up and out, slowing spreading my forces as I built Hex-Generators on top of the base layers, blocks filled with generators and more storage systems to hold more Metal and Energy, creating a double layer of them before I even considered the idea of building anything else.
Within half an hour, I had a 15 metre thick layer of metal and income that covered everything within four kilometres of the initial landing zone. The towers, now called Barrier Pillars, were moved on top of the layers even as their bases were dug up and retrofitted with the same locking system as the rest of the structures I had built thus far. The system was specially designed that any structure could be built on the ground and remain stable, making things easier in how modular it all was, like a giant lego set. Following on from there, I had started looking into looking into actual defenses and factories for units, both of which would take a bit of work, but were possible as I started.
Hex-Foundries served as my main factories, built as pillars extending from the surface of the layers of Hex-Generators. Foundries were to be the main factories that I could produce units from, 10 metres tall and 8 metres across from corner to corner, they shared the same width as all my other Hex-series blocks, but were twice as tall. When I started setting them up, I had them placed to form vast corridors that branched out into other corridors, each 'wall' being 16 metres apart at the closest point. The whole set up meant that I could quickly pump out an insane amount of units, a quick bit of coding making it so that each Hex-Foundry produced certain types of units in batches, infantry-scale units especially. As such, the moment the first Foundry was finished, it immediately started work on it's first batch of Engineers.
Ten of them crawled out, followed by another ten that had been held in mechanical arms to provide more space. From there, things rapidly spread as more and more units came online, swiftly followed by more Foundries that produced more units in turn. More Hex-Generators were used to fill in the various hollow voids between corridors, ensuring a solid structure, while defenses were bolted on top of that.
The defenses in question were actually rather simple, divided into two primary types Hex-Bastions and Hex-Citadels. Hex-Bastions were the lighter type, designed for general defense and built along similar lines to the Foundries, mostly in that each side was equipped with a mechanism that could turn any side into a blast door that could be opened on command. Internally, they had two main fabricators designed to allow them to carry out their purpose. The first fabricator was designed to produce the weapons of the Hex-Bastions, mounting them on to connection points that could then be extended out through retracted blast doors and could then fire upon enemies. The other fabricator was designed to produce ammunition, though, it was entirely dependent on whether or not the weapons in use were projectile or energy weapons. With this kind of modularity, I had Bastions sub-divided into Air-Bastions and Surface-Bastions, even though they were functionally the same thing, just with different targeting priorities.
Hex-Citadels, on the other hand, weren't like that. With them there was no real subdivision of types, as it was more a case of just shooting whatever targets they were individually assigned, or be able to fire upon. Instead of a singular, hexagonal block, they were plates made out of seven Hex-blocks fused together to form a single piece. This single plate was built with an idea in mind, hence why it had dozens of internal fabricators, along with several mounted on external mountings. With those, it constructed massive turrets that didn't serve as direct defences of the base I had constructed. Rather, they served a different purpose: Artillery.
The Hex-Citadels were massive mounting points for equally massive Artillery positions. The types of weapons that could be mounted on them ranged across the length and breadth of my own arsenal, but all of them were upscaled to massive sizes as I ran dozens of calculations in order to reach results I was happy with. More than a few of them even showed promise as Anti-orbital weapons, or weapons capable of raining down shells that ranged in weight from two to two hundred tonnes on a target on the other side of a planet. Of course, other options were present for other systems that could be built on a Hex-Citadel rather than just massive guns, both those were the main ones that I felt were of the most use at the current time, especially given my current location.
As such, by the end of the first hour since my landing, I had a fully functioning base that covered a rough hexagon of land that was about seven kilometres in across the longest diagonal. Not only that, but I had good sensor coverage of all the land surrounding the area, being able to pick out anything and everything around my base for at least another 23 kilometres in any given direction from the centre of my base. Not only that, but my production of units never stopped, only ramping further and further up as more Foundries came online with every minute, as more Foundations were built and more and more Generators started ticking away. It got to such a point that I was actually building dedicated storage locations into my base, little hollows in the mass of metal where units could wait for the time to be called to use. I even had a few dozen Walkers of various designs scattered around the place, just waiting for the call as I kept the Fabricator walkers near the expanding edge of the base, able to act as forward units that could built a firebase ahead of my advanced forces once the ball got rolling.
Not to mention the simple fact that the base I was making was only going to grow with time, if not outwards, then upwards and downwards. Expanding was the best option, since it brought me more land which could be turned into more production and infrastructure in turn. Sure, it was risky as hell, but I wasn't being stupid about it and biting off more than I could chew, which was the reason why I had just as heavy a priority on Anti-orbital cannons being set up, coupled with an insane number of Hex-Bastions being set up with an equally insane amount of firepower scattered among them.
I knew that, in the universe of Warhammer 40k, war and death came for everyone. Running was only so much of an option if I could survive long enough to run, and trying to make a run for it, with the heavy Imperial Fleet elements in orbit, sounded like a good way to die. This was probably why I had invested so heavily into my turtling, because I knew the other factions could probably bring down orbital fire support on me if I let them, which I wasn't.
Still, I knew that at some point, someone was probably going to notice I was here.
As such, I was only mildly amused in how long it took the Sisters of Battle to show up. Sensors picking up their convoy well before it crossed the boundary of what I claimed as my own, picking up the vibrations of three Rhino Transports rumbling along the ground. The moment they passed the boundary of my outer-most sensors, I knew exactly what to expect from them as I took in the details given by the various systems pointed in their direction.
For a moment, I wondered just how much damage 36 Humans in power armor could really do against my forces. Then again, I reconsidered that as I remembered that these were Sisters of Battle I was talking about, they'd probably find a way just to spite me. As such, I gathered together what I felt was a sufficient force to capture or neutralize them before I went back to expanding my base of operations further, while also designing a few new units that I planned to use in the conflicts to come. All the while, I never took my eye off the task force sent after the Battle-Sisters. Even when you considered the fact that I was talking about a force of over three hundred Sentries with nearly double that in Collectors as support, and fifty Engineers to boot it still barely felt adequate.
Even then. with all the advantages I had, I still felt the need to use the communication systems of some Research and Fabricator Walkers to project a jamming field for any Vox, or other detectable, signals that might try to push outwards from the area I had claimed as my own.
One could never be too careful, after all...
XXX
The mood was grim among the Battle-Sisters of the Adeptus Sororitas as they looked at the sight before them. Palatine Jenatea Alon lowered her Pict-Recorder as she gazed upon the source of their tension with a stoic look. Even with that, all one need do to see her true emotions was to look into her eyes to see the boiling rage that rested just below the surface as they overlooked the land below from a tall hill some distance away from their target.
Around her, the Palatine could see and hear her fellow Sisters move and grasp their weapons as they checked and double-checked their weapons with ill-concealed anger as they directed barely suppressed snarls at the sight before them. Jenatea couldn't truly blame them, even as she mentally added a need for more training in self-discipline for this group. Turning back to the source of their ire, she felt her muscles try to pull her lips into a snarl in turn. Only her experience and self-discipline kept it from coming, forcing down the burning fires of rage and hate of the Xeno, if only just. The Battle-Sister had little doubt that, had it not been the case, she would have tried to lead her Sisters to assault the Xeno structures that were assembled before them.
In truth, while the God-Emperor might have favoured them, Jenatea was smart and experienced enough, not to mention realistic enough, to understand that such a prospect was a very good way to die. The Alien complex was massive; A truly enormous complex made without design, reason or rhyme, leading to thick, black slabs of metal being piled on top of each other while openings in the structure potentially lead further inwards, towards the heart of the complex. Around, and even on top of it, were swarming masses of beings that looked like Humans in some strange pattern of Power Armor, accompanied by machines that were clearly not of Human make or design. The Palatine wasn't fooled, however, and she saw that these beings were not Human to begin with, their strides being too smooth and with too little effort, even for someone in Power Armor.
Looking at it now, Jenatea had to wonder just how it had been missed in the first place, let alone only truly noticed now, of all times. Looking up for a moment, Jenatea saw the overcast sky and frowned, noting that such had probably played a factor, but couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than that. Reports had come down that faint power signatures had been detected in this area, initially believed to be a piece of the Spacehulk that now lay in ruins in orbit. The idea wasn't too far beyond the pale, as Imperial technology was built to last, so the idea that it might be a Plasma Reactor that had survived re-entry and was just cooking off was one idea that had been thrown around. As far as Jentea knew, such a thing was entirely possible, and was considered the most likely conclusion of what it could have been, but it had been decided that the signal should still be investigated. As such, her group had been detached with orders from the Canoness to investigate and report back with their findings, since any attempt to investigate by air was not an option at the time, as those forces were currently being used against the Traitorous Guardsmen that had refused to submit to their authority.
Regardless, the Palatine knew that that it was only a matter of time before the Traitor Guardsmen were put to the sword, as was proper with such filth. No, their defeat was never in doubt, but the presence of this knew Xeno infestation within the Heart-land of their territory was a problem, and one that needed to be exorcised as quickly as possible lest it spread and grow. Turning back to her sisters, Jenatea offered them a grim frown as she looked over them, all standing at the ready while gunners on the surrounding Rhinos all scanned the surrounding lands for targets.
"Gather round, Sisters. It is time for us to return and warn the Canoness of this Infestation with all due haste, lest our fellow sisters be caught unaware when they sally forth. Only with our full might, will we purge this infestation from the land that is ours by birthright" Jenatea states firmly as she notices a few glances at the mound of xeno-metal that still continues to grow as they watch, strange blocks being brought from within it's vast structure and locked into place by insect-like machines. The Palatine can see that may of them aren't happy about it, but understand the logic behind it, knowing that to do anything less would be suicide of the highest order, a waste of the God-Emperor's currency. As such, they turn and begin heading back for their transports, the first group already starting to climb back into their transport as the others stood watch, weapons at the read. Palatine Jenatea, likewise, keeps her finger on the trigger of her Bolt Pistol, knowing that an attack might come at any moment, and to lower one's guard while on a battlefield was a death sentence.
Casting a glance back at the dark structure, the Battle-Sister merely glares at it, silently promising to see the massive complex burn in the flames of the Emperor's Wrath. With that done, she turns back to the transports, heading for the closest one with an open hatch, knowing that the sooner they leave, the sooner they can report. Then again, it probably would have been sooner, had the Vox-caster been able to break through whatever interference is filling the air with overwhelming static.
And, as she started to climb the ramp, that was when things went wrong.
"PALATINE! THE XENOS-AAAAGGHH!" The Palatine hears suddenly over the semi-silence of a moment ago, causing her to snap around just in time to see one of her subordinate Sisters drop down from the roof of a different Rhino Transport, literally thrown from their feet after having stood up to see something in the distance. Jenatea sees the Sister for long enough to see her body as it hits the ground, Power Armor saving her from a rather painful injury, but not helping her much beyond that as she notices something else. Around the Sister, coils of black cable seemed to have encircled her, tangling limbs and immobilizing her as she spots several claw-like devices at the end of the cable, all firmly attached and anchored into the armor itself.
The Palatine takes this in with a glance, already moving and drawing her Chainsword with one hand while raising her Bolt Pistol up and at the ready.
"SISTERS! TO ME!" The senior Battle-Sister commands as the others surge back out of their Transports as gunners quickly turn pintle-mounted weapons towards the original direction that the first had been looking in. A moment later, Jenatea can hear and see them firing at something in the distance as she runs forwards, quickly turning around the side of one Rhino and just in time to see what dared attack them. With snarling teeth, the Battle-Sister took in the sight before her and opened fire with a wordless battle cry, Bolt Pistol already firing as several Bolters join the volley, along with a mixture of Heavy weapons. Every Battle-Sister still able to was focused on this, firing into the sight before them with practiced and accurate shots, blessed by the God-Emperor and carrying his vengeance in every trigger they pulled.
Even so, a small, perhaps traitorous, part of herself can't help but note that such actions might just prove fruitless. The horde of Xenos approaching their position is immense, dozens of Xenos that dare to imitate the Human form spirit across uneven ground while massive insects crawl at similar speeds. Their own return fire coming fast and hard, striking several of them as lasers scythed against thick armor plating, boiling away their protection and leaving small craters in the blessed armor of both their transports and their armors. Several of their number fall after being hit with attacks that knock them from their feet, ripping armor from their forms and sending them to the dirt. More than one of them is able to keep going, but some still fall prey to other weapons, tied up in lengths of cable that anchored to their armor with sparks of energy dancing between cords and armor. Others left partially immobilized by claw-like devices that clamped on to their armors, having sunk into the plates of Ceramite and trapped limbs in prisons made from their own blessed Power Armors.
Looking down at one such Sister, Jenatea sees her well enough to see her face frozen in a silent scream of pain, a cord having wrapped around her throat and another around her head, blocking out her sight of the world. Some Sisters were kneeling by her, trying to free her with their Chain-knives as efficiently as possible, but getting little in the way of results as the cables prove themselves tougher than one might have initially believed. This was not helped by the sounds some of the fallen make as their bodies are sparked with Heretical energies that causes them to scream until their throats are raw, with faces contorted into a rictus of pain and agony before they often lose the battle to remain conscious. Added to this, their task wasn't helped by the continued progress that the masses of Xenos were making, forcing many Sisters to split their efforts, lest they be overwhelmed by the tide of armored creatures, while also trying to blind themselves to the pain their fellow Sisters were experiencing.
At this distance, the Palatine can clearly see several of the beings, she can even see it when one of them drops from repeated hits from concentrated Bolter fire or well-placed shots from the few Heavy weapons that remain. She could see armor breaking, limbs being removed and various liquids all flowing freely from those that fell, but she also saw how they swarmed, crawling over the fallen and surging forwards. Looking at them, she honestly wanted to say that they were little more than Orks in their tactics, ignoring their own casualties and charging, but the match wasn't quite right. These new Xenos advanced in silence, the only sound they made was that of weapons firing, either lasers or projectiles, or the sounds of their feet crunching into the dry dirt. There were no screams, no battle-cries and no curses in whatever alien tongue they spoke in, it was irrelevant in the long run, but Jenatea noticed it and filed it away for later, noting it as a potential weak point that could have been exploited in the right situations.
This was not one of them.
"AAAAAHHHH!!" Came the cry behind them, coming from the last gunner that had managed to continue manning the pintle-mounted Storm Bolter. Jenatea turned just in time to see her fall from the top of the machine, into the circle of Rhinos and hitting the hard ground. A glance was enough to confirm that she was out cold, wrapped up in Xeno-cables and being rendered immobile by those same cables. Of course, following that, she had just enough time to look up an see one of the Xenos clamber up from the other side of the Rhino, a large being in a suit of Power Armor that quickly launched itself at her, a forearm-mounted Chain weapon already screaming for her blood.
It was only ingrained instinct that saved her as the Xeno closed the distance, causing her to spin around just in time to bring her sword to bear, swinging with all her might at the waist of the massive being while ducking under the claws of the Xeno in turn. The Chainsword connected as the Palatine felt the weapon lurch in her grasp, finding purchase on armor as it started chewing through thick plates, monomolecular-edged teeth hungry for whatever foul-substance these Xenos called blood. An instant later, the Xeno fell in two, it's upper half crashing into the Rhino behind her even as it's legs crumpled to the ground while she leveled her Bolt Pistol at the next target, snapping off a quick three-round burst and catching two more Xenos in the head and chest with the Fury of the Emperor. Behind her, she can feel her remaining sisters moving, their backs to each other as they slowly inched to a more defensible position as they sprayed their own vengeance at the horde.
Jenatea isn't given time to think much beyond that, merely know that it is happening as another machine rushes at her, Chain-blade already spun up and screaming for blood, the sound utterly alien and high-pitched enough that she almost confuses it for an Air-raid siren of some description. Reflexes come back as she brings her Chainsword up to parry, presenting the reinforced flat of her Chainsword, as to not grind teeth together and lose said teeth, potentially reducing the effectiveness of her own weapon for later combat.
However, as contact was made, Jenatea was forced to step back and duck as she brought up her Bolt Pistol, firing three more bolts at this new Xeno challenger, who had just cleaved her Chainsword in twine with a single stroke. The bolts punch through the armor, but leave her in an exposed position as another three rush forwards, firing smaller anchors at her as she quickly reaches down and grabs a fallen Bolter from the ground. One such anchor strikes her left leg, leaving her unable to move it and trapping her in a semi-crouched stance on one side even as she fires both of her weapons with a single hand each. Another anchor follows, hitting her right forearm, causing her to drop her Pistol even as her fingers were trapped in what could almost be called a death grip around something that wasn't there. Instead of being weakened by it, Jenatea uses this as another weapon, using her frozen forearm as a club to bat away another Xeno as it comes too close and she fires more shots into another group that approaches.
Behind her, she hears the characteristic fall of the last of her Sisters, followed by their screams of pain and agony that quickly disappear. Rage boils within her, fury condensing as she presses her back against one of the Rhinos with her still working leg and fires the Bolter at everything that moves. Bolts scatter into the advancing horde, but she sees some fall to hits, chest plating detonating or heads disappearing into clouds of foul liquids and tainted metals.
"FOR THE EMPEROR!" She screams in defiance as she switches target, firing at one of the large Scorpion-Xenos that had approached, trying to use the fallen as cover. It suddenly loses its head and a fair portion of the 'upper' body, but the consequences of her actions become clear to her moments later. Something strikes her frozen leg, causing her to look down just in time to see a line of black material wrapped around it, giving her just enough time to wonder what it was and trace it back to the many-tendriled face of another one of the Scorpion-Xenos. That was all the time she was given as the creature grasped the line in both claws and pulled.
Suddenly, she was no longer on the ground, being thrown into the air and gritting her teeth in surprise to prevent a scream escaping her lips. Even so, the Bolter is in a Death grip, her fingers holding down the trigger and spraying bolts in every direction as she flops around like a fish caught on a line. Whether or not her bolts hit anything, she doesn't know, all she did know was that she was exposed, something the Xenos have no problem taking advantage of.
More of their strange projectiles rain down on her, slamming into her Power Armor and anchoring themselves with extended claws, making her think giant ticks or blood-sucking leeches attached to her armor. The thought passes as more and more of her body is frozen, trapped within steel that should have protected her from the Xeno, the Heretic, and the Traitor. Instead, it serves as her prison as she is thrown to the ground, thankfully not hitting her head, but completely exposed and winded as the air is forced from her lungs from the impact. Her vision spirals and spins as she tries to centre herself, tries to figure out her next move even as shadows are cast over her and obscure the light of the system's star from her skin. As that happens, the Palatine has just enough time to look up and see the horde of Xeno-machines surrounding her, limbs reaching down towards her...
Palatine Jenatea Alon has just enough time to scream her last breath at them, before they are upon her...
XXX
Looking on, I watched with some interest as the last of the Battle-Sisters falls.
Admittedly, they weren't bad, well trained and drilled endlessly to what was potentially the peak of martial prowess for an unaugmented Human. There weapons were also powerful, their armor equally well made and just as robust as one would expect. All of that, put together, would have made them the bane of a great many foes that they could have crippled, or utterly eradicated to the last, even while being outnumbered to an extreme degree. Against a normal opponent, even the 36 of them from the convoy would have been able to rout a force several times it's own size, had they cared for things like moral and casualties.
Unfortunately for the Battle-Sisters, my forces hadn't cared for such things at all.
My forces had charged onwards, disregarding loses even as they used the corpses of fallen units as shields against Bolter fire, all to push forwards and complete their objectives as efficiently as possible. Admittedly, they had done that, but I couldn't help but wonder about just how efficient that solution had been. I had given them simple instructions to encircle and capture the Battle-Sisters, if possible, and given them several tools with which such a thing could have been done, but left the actual task down to the gestalt mind of the AI-minds in the entire task force. This had resulted in the simplistic tactic of drawing attention away and encircling the Battle-Sisters, but little else, as it was apparent that the AI's lacked the necessary knowledge and cunning to carry out complex tasks with little instruction. While not necessarily a bad thing, considering the fact that I had, effectively, unlimited multi-tasking, I wasn't the biggest fan of microing units if I could avoid it. Already, I could think of a few ideas on how to solve that problem, but I'd need to give it some thought at a later time, as I turned my attention back to the present.
Turning back to the situation with the Battle-Sisters, I watched as the units I had sent began to do their assigned tasks. Collectors rapidly moved around, picking things up and piling them up off to one side while Engineers arrived and started stripping down both the three Rhinos and the Sisters themselves. Sentries quickly started patrolling the area, but still searching for anything of note before giving such items to the Collectors. Off to one side, I saw the still-awake Battle-Sister screaming and struggling within the confines of her own Power Armor as she watched on, utterly unable to do anything as the Engineers got to work while a new unit crawled up to the sight of the skirmish.
Technically, it could actually be considered as a train of lesser units that made up a greater whole. The thing looked like a long Centipede made up from multiple, segmented pieces, each segment looking to be made from half a Hexagonal prism, with a slanted face on both the front and back and three pairs of quadruple-jointed legs, each ending in a three-toed foot. Said legs were long and reasonably thick, tipped with claws that I was sure could rip open tank armor to get at the crew inside of the metal machines, enhanced further with Vibrational engines, monomolecular edges, and what little understanding I had of Power weapons. Along with that, each section was also armed with a series of sixteen hidden turrets with a variable mounting system, similar to my Hex-Bastions, most of them being able to fire in a given direction. Still, each section was technically a unit in it's own right, but I had decided to allow them to link together in massive train, this one being made up from twelve such units, with each unit being 8 metres long, 4 metres wide and 2.5 metres tall, without including the legs in that.
Each individual piece was called a Link, while a series of them was called a Chain.I watched with interest as one such Chain was carrying out one of the many tasks I had created it for: Prisoner transportation.
From the first Link in the Chain, seams formed as a set of panels retracted into the top of the machine, letting light in and showing that the machine was mostly hollow as I watched what happened next with a dozen eyes even as the Engineers continued their work. Slowly, one of the Battle-Sister was picked up by an Engineer, her body limp from the electrical output of the Paralyser Bola that wrapped around her body, constraining it even further as the machine took note of it before carrying on. With surgically skill, the Engineer slowly pulled the Bola away, deactivating the clamps that held it in place as the woman simply fell bonelessly from the arms of the machine as the cables were quickly pulled away and Reclaimed. As this happened, other limbs unfolded as they began their work, grabbing at the limbs of the Sister even as others grasped at plates of armor.
With the combination Insider information, nanomachines and the Sister's unconscious state, she was quickly relieved of her Power Armor, left exposed as she hung by her wrists, her body only covered by a pair of pants and a bra to protect what little modesty she might have. A quick command, and that, too, disappeared in a flurry of nanomachines as the cloth was removed and left the Sister's body exposed to the elements. I couldn't help but admire the body of the Sister, toned to perfection and holding the build of an Amazon from constant practice in martial pursuits while still being a body that I could imagine a great many woman being the envy of. With that done, I turned my attention back to the open Link as tendrils slowly extruded themselves from the empty hold, extending towards the unconscious Battle-Sister and lifting her from the Engineer's grasp.
Metal cords coiled around her limbs, trapping her wrists and ankles as she was pulled into the Link before being shifted to one side. The tendrils manipulated her supple form, folding it slightly to take up less space as the tendrils bound her ankles to her thighs while also pulling her arms down, putting her wrists on level with her neck. As she came closer to one corner of the internal hold, more tendrils extended, quickly binding the woman as her legs were redone in the same position and another tendril wrapped around her waist to further support her. Another tendril snuck out, first wrapping three times around one wrist, then twice around her neck, then three more times around her other wrist to hold her in place before plugging back into the wall. With her bound firmly, other tendrils followed, two quickly latching on to the sides of her head, sealing off her ears from the outside world while another one slide over the top of her head, it's tip widening to form a helmet-like bowl that concealed her silver hair from view, along with the upper part of her face. From within this helmet, more tendrils came, slipping into her nose while suction cup-like formations sealed over her eyes.
With her primary senses removed, five more tendrils were extruded from the wall behind her, sliding over her shoulder before moving towards her face, pressing into her lips before easily pushing into her mouth and forcing her mouth open as it pushed further down her throat. Following on, the next four completed things, two of them opening at the tip and sliding over the woman's breasts while the other two moved lower, slicking themselves up with lubricant and a skin-absorbed, local anesthetic. Almost as soon as they made contact with the body, I watched as both tendrils pushed themselves upwards, into the lower holes of the woman, who didn't even notice it.
I had to think that was a good thing, since even with one Battle-Sister still awake, she was still screaming herself raw after just a few minutes, demanding that I release her Sister while mixing it with threats that the God-Emperor would smite me for something or other. Within the simulation, I allowed my eyes to roll at that, mentally changing the orders to the Link for when it came time for her to board, making sure to not have the anesthetic given to her, if only out of some vindictive sense of indulgence.
Mind you, considering the way I had the Sisters being restrained, as more of them boarded the Chain, one could assume that I was already indulging in something. Admittedly, I was, but only to a degree since the various tendrils still served a purpose beyond penetrating every hole the Sister's had. The one down their throats ensured that they didn't try to kill themselves by biting their tongues and drowning themselves in blood while also feeding them a nutrient slurry to keep them alive over an extended period of time. The two up each hole were to remove waste matter, either liquid or solid, since, regardless of how I might feel about these zealots, I didn't feel the need to let them squat in their own shit and piss. Along with that, they, accompanied by the ones on her breasts, served as DNA collectors, giving me fresh samples of DNA that I could work with, partly out of curiosity to be perfectly honest.
I knew Humanity had changed over the past forty thousand years, that much was plainly obvious, but I wanted to see how it had changed on the genetic level. Not to mention the fact that, while the Imperium, as an expression of Humanity, was both the most retarded and most insane polity imaginable, that didn't mean that Humanity itself was gone. Even if I only took a token few samples of DNA, I still felt that that would be enough to be enough to give Humanity a new chance at life, preferably somewhere not in this universe, and not with the Chaos Gods hanging over it, ready to ass-rape it everyday of the week.
Absently, I turned my attention away from the scene I had previously watched, cutting out just in time for the final Battle-Sister to be loaded, her voice turning into a shrill screech of indignation, pain and horror mixed together. I disregarded it as I went off, looking for Neta as I considered the previous thoughts I had. Certainly, the idea was possible, but if I was going to do it, I was going to do it well enough to satisfy my own sense of paranoia and ensure that whatever shard of Humanity that was created wouldn't just become the Butt-Boy of some other Cosmic power or alien empire.
Mind you, I had my doubts that a little Transhumanism would hurt too much...
XXX
Anyway, there you have it, the latest chapter in this trip through the LSD-infested hellscape known as Warhammer 40K. As always, feedback is welcome and I'll try and take it onboard for future improvements.