Disclaimer: I own jackshit
AN: Going by what people said last time, I think I did better with this chapter and toned down the techno-babble a fair bit, though, I doubt I'm really any judge for that since I'm decently sure I still put a fair bit in. Still, this was the chapter that I came up with, and I hope you lot enjoy it!
Also, big round of applause for Vladicus, the one that ensures that my written madness actually makes sense.
XXX
Kaurava I was now mine. With every single last trace of resistance having been eradicated from the planet this gave me some breathing room.
Of course, even with that done it still left me in a solar system that was crawling with Space Marines, Tau, Chaos, two flavors of Eldar, Necrons and Orks. The Warp Storm would hopefully keep things contained for the most part, but that was no guarantee that information wouldn't spread. Unfortunately, I couldn't afford to take chances on that, and needed to ensure that as many survivors of this system disappeared, never to be seen again. Preferably, along with the system itself and any evidence that could be used to show I had ever been present. Considering that this was an Imperial system, I really did need to be long gone before they sent a fleet to purge the system.
Their stance on anything related to AI was something I was well aware of, and it was something that I knew could spell the end for me if I chose to stay in one location. Even if I did, and managed to turtle up enough that they couldn't immediately wipe me out, I would still be stuck in the ass-end of who-knows-where with a Galaxy's worth of pissed off Toaster-worshippers and men in funny hats trying to kill me in the name of their god. I would have preferred to be long gone before things reached that stage, in another universe, if possible.
Admittedly, I was still working on the 'How' aspect of getting to another universe, let alone escaping this solar system, but it was something that I was rapidly working through in an effort to try and find an answer before I got caught up in the latest clusterfuck of the 41st millennia. Equally, I hoped that I'd also have enough time to channel my inner-Trazyn and acquire a few interesting trinkets, objects and samples for a collection of my own. Though, with a focus more on reverse-engineering and understanding, rather than on simply preserving them for posterity. Already, a list of such interests were forming in my mind as I worked through my memories of the 40k universe, cross-referencing against what few maps I had, even as more information slowly trickled into my vast databases from a dozen different sources.
In orbit, new Architect-Pattern Combat-Forms were digging through the remains of dozens of Imperial vessels. The one hundred and fifty metres long machines, based on the design of the Ceph warships from Crysis 3, were working to slowly dissect the corpses of the Void-going vessels with the aid of hordes of Engineers, Collectors and Wardens. Entire sections of armor plating were ripped off the superstructure and Reclaimed, one piece at a time, by Fabricators mounted on the tips of segmented tendrils that doubled the length of such Forms, to go along with every other object that had been spilled from these vessels. Sub-groups of Battleminds and Warminds moved to monitor every movement, tracking every scrap of metal and carefully jotting down their positions, vectors and potential collection points. Other sub-groups were working to see to the de-construction of what remained of the Hive cities looming over the surface of Kaurava I, checking every corpse and every bolt before moving on to the next item on the list. Such inspections were carried out first physically, and then digitally, as the Reclamation process revealed a rather interesting trait about itself, highlighting the difference between Reclaiming something, and just disassembling it.
In the case of the latter, the matter making up an object was torn apart and either reassembled into a new form immediately, absorbed into the Economy system, or left to drift as little more than dust on the wind. In the case of the former, however, every detail of an object was carefully recorded and noted down, all the way down to the arrangement of the Quarks that made up the matter an object was composed of. It was a detailed process and one that was still restricted by system errors, but it still proved useful to me despite those errors. It was also something I had overlooked until it came time to Reclaim the massive amount of corpses that were currently lying around the various a battlefields, if only to save time in learning more about their equipment. I also learned that the brain scans that it created by destructively examining the brains were so complete, I could actually simulate the individuals themselves; Their thoughts, memories and personalities could be reconstructed from the remains of their brains, so long as they remained sufficiently intact.
Hell, Reclaiming just a few corpses that had once been the local Nobility had been a massive windfall, revealing the locations of secret vaults and hidden items that would have taken me much longer to find. Collections of Digi-weapons, rare weapons normally restricted to elite soldiers of the Imperium and even a few examples of Xenos weapons traded through the Cold Trade, all hidden in places I hadn't expected and accompanied by hundreds of other stockpiles of materials that would have seen them killed for any number of reasons by either the Inquisition or the Arbites. Not that it really mattered, since they all still died in the end, but that's besides the point.
Seeing the results of my new discovery was enough for me to go back and look at everything else I had Reclaimed since I had awoken, searching through every detail and looking for anything I might have missed during my rush to survive in the Warp and beyond. For that reason, I felt less bad about missing the sheer amount of data I'd collected thanks to the Imperium using crystalline Solid-state memory storage systems within tech, from the smallest Las-pistol, to the largest of voidships. I still felt like an idiot for missing it in the first place but I blame that on my focus being on the higher priority of surviving.
Quickly packaging up the raw data, I sent the new finds to the Coven and my growing number of Forgeminds, with instructions to research, dissect and investigate any potential for further advancements, on the condition that it didn't stray into anything that I had already classed as forbidden. The following acknowledgement from both groups was enough for me to know that results would be coming back quickly since the Coven were always eager to please, and the Forgeminds were built with research and development in mind. I was proven correct when, not even a minute later, status reports started flowing through the network at a steady pace from both sides, to go along with an ever growing list of potential innovations and creations that the Coven had already sent me.
I was about to turn my attention elsewhere, but paused for an instant as I considered an idea. A moment of thought was enough for me to reach a decision before I sent another message to both the Coven and the Forgeminds, asking them to dig through the Iron Fragments that I'd found, and those that they would probably find, and to investigate their finds. Another series of acknowledgements followed, along with status reports not long after, and let me know that I'd be able to learn a bit more about the Men of Iron soon enough. Hopefully, there might be something in there that could help me deal with the Bastards of Chaos and the Hypocrites that made up the Eldar, but I didn't hold out much hope for a solution being either quick or easy to find.
Especially given just who the God of Hope was in this universe...
XXX
Three planets, two moons, at least four fleets that I could vaguely identify across the system and a single Warp Storm to complete the list of what I had to deal with. Not to mention the various armies that were currently stationed on each of those planets and moons, either fighting each other or continuing to dig in to whatever regions they had already claimed as their own. Or at least doing some equivalent of such actions, since I was rather doubtful about how some of the various factions might have viewed the act of defending their territory.
Views on fortifications aside, the very nature of this kind of warfare meant that I also had to consider other factors, since this conflict was not purely limited to the landscape and atmosphere of a single planet. I also needed to consider the distances involved in transporting forces to establish a foothold on any of the planets and moons, not to mention being able to deal with whatever orbital assets that an opposing force might have available to them. The problem with that, however, was that I currently lacked for heavier, void-based Forms to launch such an attack on any of the other planets on the system, with the sole exception of Kaurava III, which was a Necron Tomb World, and playing host to an Eldar Farseer, and her accompanying forces. For those reasons alone, I viewed an attack on Kaurava III as being just as difficult as any other planet in the system to assault, especially if the Necrons decided that they wanted to bring some of their bigger toys to bear, or wake up some void craft of their own.
I could still make it work, carrying out a conventional assault on the planets with hordes of Architects, since Webway gates were still very much Eldar only, but I wondered about just how effective that would really be. Sure, the Combat-Forms were armed with six Hellbores in various mounts, plus other weapons, but I'd hardly call consider them as a good match up against a proper Battle group. Especially since I couldn't afford to equip them all with Void Shields, due to lacking a large enough supply of Warp-conductive materials. Without that material, and the knowledge to make it, I could only give them up-scaled and overpowered Refractor Fields, which were still massively under powered in comparison to even the smallest Void Shield that I could simulate. And the idea of throwing a horde of Glass Cannons against a well-defended enemy position didn't sound like the best of ideas to me, even if I had the infrastructure and economy to pull it off.
So, a conventional assault was thoroughly out of the question, but an unconventional one? That was still very much in the cards, especially as I looked over the last pieces of my plans coming together. Observing Fabrication walkers and Engineers, I saw the last few pieces of the outer casing being completed in a shower of nanomachines and proto-matter, complex alloys being formed and solidified into being as I felt the newest weapons in my arsenal come to life.
Immediately, I felt shells slowly being crafted by Fabricators as Teleporter Gates, Electromagnetic Coils and Gravitational Pulse generators all came to life as the towering barrel of a series of Murphy Cannons slowly tipped to one side. As that happened, other pre-prepared shells were loaded into their own Acceleration tubes before being sealed into position and beginning the slow process of accelerating to the required speeds, joined by the soon-finished shells as they cycled through an endless tube by Teleporter Gates. Watching this happen, I noted the utter lack of any difference between a Little Murphy and a Murphy, with the one key difference being present for all to see: Size.
A single Little Murphy was made from a barrel that was two hundred and fifty metres long, and fired a shell that was eleven metres in diametre, and twenty-five metres in length. It was primarily designed as an Anti-Orbital weapon system that could take out any enemy orbital assets in short order, along with anything in the orbit of a planet's natural satellites. However, it lacked in the kind of alpha-strike capability that I required for this operation, especially since the targets, for the most part, were built to a different standard than that of the Imperial Navy. Space Marine Battle Barges; Chaos-Tainted warships; Ork Battlewagons; Different standards, but no one could doubt that they could take a beating and were just as able to dish one back out. What Tau ships that were present didn't have that same durability, but I didn't doubt that trying to advance on them from long range would be a bad idea, given that a long range gun duel would play to the Tau's strengths.
However, for my plan to work, I'd need to either cripple or utterly destroy the majority of these fleets within the first few opening moments of my attack, along with taking a foothold and fortifying it within moments of the attack. The distraction, and potential destruction, caused by the attack would hopefully be enough to let me get boots on the ground before anyone could realize what was going on, but, by the same token, it wasn't a task that the Little Murphy was built for. It's motors weren't designed to track targets on the other side of a solar system, and it's fire control software wasn't precise enough to make up for it.
Thus, comes the Murphy.
Instead of a turret, the barrel of the monstrously massive Murphy rose from an equally large foundation set directly on top of the sea of Hex-blocks that covered most of the continent. Supports had been built that extended almost a kilometre into the planet's crust, combined with inertia compensation devices that riddled the superstructure of the gargantuan cannon. Even then, every single section of the structure had been made with the most durable materials I could provide, with dozens of independent redundancies and self-repair systems all mixed together to ensure that a second shot would be possible. Of course, I doubted that most targets would even need a second shot, considering that a single shell measured around one hundred metres in diametre, and around four hundred and fifty metres in length. Said shells coming from a barrel that currently measured at six kilometres from the foundation to the tip of their muzzle, and would leave the muzzle at speeds that simply buggered belief.
Just one of these insane guns could have probably been considered as a planet-killer by itself, and I'd assigned the resources for, and constructed, no less than twelve of the monsters, all for the purpose of rolling multiple aspects of an assault into a single motion and not giving my enemies time to react...
At the very least, I was reasonably sure that the Orks would approve, which was a mildly disturbing notion, to say the least.
XXX
To be Inquisitor Thresa Palmios at the current time, would not have been a pleasant experience for any loyal servant of the God-Emperor.
Her encounter with the Xenos-Construct had not been a pleasant one, nor had it ended as she had hoped. The machine proved more than capable of keeping up with her, along with being able to laugh off Bolter shells as though they were a minor annoyance at best before returning fire in kind. It was only due to the twisting corridors of the Hive that she had even managed to survive past the first exchange of fire, and even then, it had been a close thing as she ran down corridors, taking sharp turns and doing everything she could to shake her pursuer while jumping down side pathways normally either kept hidden as escape routes, or used for servants of the Nobility. Such actions had bought her precious seconds, but not much more than that as the machine always seemed to catch up with her in record time, ripping its way through any obstacle with Power Field tipped claws while firing at her from either one of its many forearm-mounted weapons, or some kind of shoulder weapons that she hadn't been able to immediately identify.
The entire chase had gone on for what felt like hours, but it had only taken thirty-six minutes from start to finish, and resulting in her eventual capture by the Xenos-Construct. A turn down the wrong corridor to dodge being shot and a chase down a bridge overlooking the lower levels of the Hive had been the end of the road for her, as the bridge had seemed to buckle under her as soon as she reached the mid-point of it. Originally, she had thought it was due to the bridge not having been maintained, and the weight of her Power Armor, but that had turned out to be false. Her drop had been short, but long enough to ensure that she had fully believed that she would soon be by the God-Emperor's side, and long enough for her to close her eyes and accept that she was going to die. However, an abrupt stop had put an end to that, as her eyes had snapped open to find herself bouncing on something that had laid under the bridge.
She had been caught in a massive, black web that stretched under the bridge, filling the space, but not immediately visible from the bridge itself. Instinct and training had kicked in once she realized she wasn't about to die from the drop, but by that point, it had been too late. Her Power Armor had been well and truly stuck to the webs, with every motion to free herself only working to tangle more and more of the webs around her, making it even more difficult. Such a situation wasn't helped when dozens of mechanical insects had started crawling out from around the various anchors of the web, their forms based on a multitude of different spiders, ants and centipedes. Trapped as she had been, she couldn't even offer any resistance as the machines had stripped her of her Power Armor, weapons, dignity and modesty before wrapping her in layers of webbing. Thresa still cursed that moment, for not having some method of taking her own life to hand as the webbing had been so tight and thick that she couldn't have even moved to bite her own tongue and deny the Xenos what they wanted.
Not to mention, it had stung her professional pride to no end as she had looked back up at the bridge, and her last sight had been of that same machine, grinning down at her as the webbing covered her. It had clicked at that moment, allowing her to realize that she had been played in the final moments before sight was taken from her.
From there, the Inquisitor wasn't sure what had happened, as a needle of some kind was jammed into her neck, but her next sight had been of her current location: An endless world of white cubes that linked in an odd and ill-ordered manner to create a curving landscape of valleys, cliffs and spires that dominated the world around her. Her own position was on some kind of platform overlooking this landscape from high in the sky, her body restraint as her arms and legs disappeared into more white cubes at the thighs and biceps, respectively. Neither her dignity nor modesty were preserved by the Xenos either, as her body remained naked, and a warm heat rested around her neck without touching it, but still telling her of the collar that had been placed upon her. Not to mention her own inability to move her jaw in any meaningful way, even though she couldn't feel anything restraining it.
Glancing around once more, Thresa continued to watch her surroundings for a few more moments, wondering just how long she would remain like this. The world around her gave no indicators to determine the passage of time, and what few indicators she had previously noticed were neither consistent or unique. The fact that she had been drugged and then left like this until she had woken up of her own accord added to this, as the Inquisitor had no way of knowing how much time had passed for the rest of the Imperium. Minutes, hours, days or even months were all within the realm of possibility through purely chemical means, and either stasis technology or Warp powers could have expanded that time into years, decades, centuries or even further. There was no way of really knowing the truth, leaving her to blindly guess at possibilities and 'what-ifs' that left her running round and round in circles of thoughts and theories. It didn't help that mental discipline was currently warring against her feelings of unease and anticipation for what was to come, trying not to think about what horrors awaited her even as she went stir crazy from the lack of interaction.
Such thoughts, however, were interrupted when a pair of hands came from behind her and grasped her breasts, groping them tightly as fingers disappeared into flesh. The action itself was one that should have caused nothing but revulsion from the Inquisitor, but she found her body reacting to the sudden touch in unexpected ways, even as an indignant and shocked yelp sounded out through her sealed lips. The feeling of someone behind her became apparent to her as those same hands continued to knead her flesh, playing and toying with them while hot breath danced across her neck. Thresa felt blood race to her face even as an almost pleasant buzz ran through her nerves, sending a shiver up and down her spine with every little twist and pinch of her flesh. Her blush only grew as she felt the breasts of a woman press into her shoulder blades, flattening against her body as she became aware of how she had been raised just a bit further into the air. Thresa couldn't even think of when that had happened, probably when the hands had first made contact with her body, but she couldn't be sure, her concentration was shot as each little movement sent fresh sparks through her body and ruined whatever focus she had built anew.
With what little concentration she could muster, the Inquisitor considered her options carefully, even as she tried to ignore just how good it felt to have her body violated by what was probably a Traitor and potentially a Heretic. Her arms and legs were bound in restraints, her jaw would not respond to her commands, and her body was seething with sensations that should not have been generated by being violated as she was. The only option she really had was to grit her teeth and bear through this humiliation, and to pray to the God-Emperor for a chance to escape and repent for failing to stay out of the hands of the Enemies of Mankind.
With no way of keeping track of time, Thresa was unable to clearly define just how long she was forced to endure this humiliation and violation, but it could have been anywhere between ten minutes to ten hours for all she knew. At some point, she felt something change as a pressure suddenly appeared on her shoulder, hot breath tickling her skin as she glanced to one side to the face of the being responsible for what was happening to her. Green eyes were the first thing she saw, followed by raven-black hair and a health, creamy skin tone that seemed to lack any visible imperfections. Full lips pulled into a playful and coy smile even as fingers continued to use her body as a plaything, anger surged within the Inquisitor at seeing that smile, as her immediate thoughts became dominated by retribution and a want to lash out. Without any further thought, Thresa tilted her head away from this woman, neck muscles tense and ready as she willed her head to recoil back at the woman, smashing directly into her face and, hopefully, removing that smile from her face.
However, such an action never happened. Instead, Inquisitor Palmios found her neck muscles not responding to her commands, causing a sense of panic to well up within her before decades of experience and self-discipline forced it down. It wouldn't do for the Enemies of Mankind to see an Inquisitor as anything other than a bastion of cool calculation and furious wrath, the latter of which only continued to grow as her assailant finally spoke.
"Hmmm... Supple and responsive flesh; A generous and well toned figure; And a mind honed to a fine edge... You are, quite possibly, one of the highest quality specimens that my Lord has gifted into my care, my dear Inquisitor." As the woman spoke, one hand finally moved away from her waist, trailing a path down Thresa's body and leaving a path behind it that burned with a blissful buzz in the back of her mind. With every movement, the Inquisitor could feel her mental discipline threatened and hammered at, as nerves sparked and worked against her mind, her body rebelling from her own control as she fought to keep her body from moving towards the source of pleasure even more. It didn't help that the woman's other hand was still at work, groping, kneading, squeezing and cupping her tit and playing with the orb of flesh without thought to the Inquisitor's wishes. All the while, the woman continued to talk, her voice threading through the air and clearly ringing in the captive's ears.
"Admittedly, a few of the Sisters of Battle were probably your better in terms of combat potential, but such is to be expected from those that only sleep, eat, fight and pray... On the other hand, you had a different role within the Imperium, and you have certainly crafted yourself to fill that role with great skill and dedication." The blush on the Inquisitor's face only grew darker as the wandering hand finally reached her waist, tracing along the inside of her thigh before resting on her crotch. The simmering heat she had previously been feeling from between her loins suddenly ignited into a bonfire that sent shockwaves of utter rapture through her nerves. It only got worse as fingers traced over her lower lips, fingernails brushing against her clit, and causing the sensation to repeat over, and over, and over again with every stroke.
Try as she might, Inquisitor Thresa Palmios knew that this was a battle she was losing, even as she fought to keep control of her own mind and body, both of which rebelled against her in a need to satisfy more base urges. Her focus and concentration escaped her with every stroke of her core, not helped by the synchronized groping that played across her chest, as each motion caused her mind to stutter in her prayers to the God-Emperor, both asking for his aid in escaping this torture, and as a method to distract her from the sensations that this Traitor was delivering upon her. Unfortunately, such prayers only kept getting harder and harder to recite as her mind was slowly battered into submission by the weaponized lust that had taken her body by storm. However, she wasn't so far gone that she failed to notice the Traitor choosing to speak once more.
"Still, at the very least, such a lifetime of combat conditioning and invaluable experience will serve as a good foundation for what is to come... Especially since you have gained the personal attention of the Lord Eternal, an honor for one yet to be Enlightened to the Truth. Though, even one as honored as you simply cannot be presented to the Lord as you are, still Ignorant to the Truth and so horribly deformed from the millennia of disrepair carried out by the Ignorant. No, you will be Enlightened, and then you will be remade to fit with the honor with which you have been granted... To be Enlightened and Exalted on the command of our Lord..." Coherent thought finally became impossible for Thresa to maintain, as the sensation of utter bliss being forced upon her overcame her self-discipline, leaving her unable to keep restraining her own body. Almost as that happened, baser instincts finally took over and caused her unconscious mind to take control, forcing her into motion as her back arched and tried pressing her chest into the fingers that continued to massage the mounds of flesh attached to her chest. Likewise, her hips went into motion as they pistoned back and forth, trying to force those enterprising fingers deeper into her body. It didn't help that the pleasure had just continued to build and build within her loins, not moving or relenting as it continued to intensify with every stroke of her captor's fingers. Thresa didn't even register when the her tormentor spoke next, only recognizing that a sound was being made by someone near her.
"Though, before either process can begin, I suppose we should finish up with your examination, don't you think...?" The sound was teasing and light, but the actions that followed were most definitely not either of them, even as the words only registered due to not being the sounds of her own arousal, lust and bliss. A sudden spike of motion by her lower lips caused Thresa's body to shudder, as the invading fingers speared into her core and kept going deeper. Thresa was only absently aware of the feeling of something wet dripping down the inside of her thighs before the world disappeared into a dizzy, drunken spin as something inside of her exploded. Spots filled her vision as the raw lust and euphoria filled every fibre of her being, even as muscles twitched uncontrollably from the sudden overload of sensation and she screamed her throat raw, enjoying the sheer high she was experiencing.
The actual time that it took for her to come down from such a high was impossible for her to tell, due to her higher mental functions still not working, and due to the surrounding environment, but that hardly mattered. The world continued to spin as spots filled her vision and her muscles ached in new and unusual ways, but she felt content with her sudden experience on an instinctive level. That feeling did not fade in the slightest as she tried to draw breath into burning lungs, nor did it leave her as darkness started to creep into the corners of her vision. Her last sight was that of a woman standing over her, smiling widely and green eyes sparked with eager glee at the prospect of yet another the work ahead.
As conscious finally left the captured Inquisitor, High Priestess Neta Alkins of the Coven grinned down at the virtual representation of this Alpha-fork of the captive Inquisitor's mind and personality. It had been one of many, created through non-destructive investigation of the Inquisitor's brain and neural structure as a way to gather information on the mindset of the Inquisitor, among other things, and how to adjust it to suit the needs of the Lord Eternal. Already, a notification appeared to her that the data from the latest session was being compiled and filtered for new information, added to the slowly growing data-files that were waiting for her within the sub-Realm that her Lord had gifted to her. A gesture caused the message to disappear into motes of light even as the High Priestess smiled to herself as the Alpha-fork slowly disappeared in a similar manner, leaving her alone on the platform as Neta looked to the distant landscape and simply marvelled.
It, too, was a gift from her Lord, one that she would repay by sculpting such fine material into nothing less than a masterpiece.
XXX
It was time.
All preparations had been long since complete, with each of them having been checked and double checked a dozen times in the course of waiting for the final piece of the puzzle. In this case it was the wait to ensure that the shells within the Murphy Cannons' Acceleration tubes had reached a sufficient velocity to allow them to complete their tasks. A look inside those same Acceleration tubes showed their contents as little more than a blurred streak that dominated the cameras and sensors, going in one Teleporter gate and out the other thousands of times within the space of the blink of an eye. Even with everything ready, I could feel my Data-minds working over the raw data coming back from the various sensor inputs and refining a dozen settings, from the fire control of the Murphy Cannons, to the flight path of each individual shell, to the placement of each attack that would come in the aftermath of each strike. Every detail that could have been re-examined and confirmed to be correct was undergoing such a treatment to ensure that what happened next went off without a hitch.
Notifications floated all around me as I simply existed within the Matrix, taking in every detail once more and considering my options, wondering about other options that I could have gone down. I discarded such thoughts an instant later, knowing that 'could haves' and 'what-ifs' were completely useless at this point, with my course set and all the preparations complete. All that was left to do was pull the trigger on twelve of the most massive weapons, that I knew of, ever crafted by Human hands. I smiled at that thought, wondering if I still counted as a Human at this stage, or just a proxy for a Human, before storing that line of thinking away after considering it too metaphysical for my current situation. An alarm was set and attached to the file generated, set to trigger once I was no longer stuck in the hell-verse of Warhammer 40k, with several conditions related to the safety and security of the next universe in question.
With that done, I turned back to the fire controls of my Murphy Cannons, all slaved to a single trigger command that was now staring me in the face. There was no visualization of it this time, just an awareness of the needed command and an understanding of the consequences related to activating it. Projections and estimates were all that I really had to try and guess at the aftermath, but they still painted a grim picture of what could be, at least, once the trigger was pulled. Death tolls across all of the planets would skyrocket, though, I didn't doubt that some people would have been better off dead than still living, especially for those in the 'care' of either Chaos or the Drukhari.
And so, I flipped the switch.
A dozen operations followed in the space of an instant. Lasers built into the Murphy Cannons fired to burn a path through the atmosphere, creating an artificial vacuum as Teleporter Gates flickered to a new destination before their payloads raced through. Suddenly, shells were being launched through the colossal barrels of the Murphy Cannons and into the vacuum tunnel above them, skipping through the atmosphere and still having enough purchase to cause shock waves with their passage. Dozens of shells all disappeared into the sky, and into the void beyond, within a fraction of time too small for an organic being to truly comprehend. It was a good thing, then, that I was not limited by organic comprehension, especially as I tracked each individual shell as it communicated back its current status and projected flight time until it made contact with its assigned target. Still, with the distances involved and sizes being used, the projected flight time was still going to be measured in minutes to hours, at the very least, despite the fact that each shell was moving at a fraction of c. As such, my only option was to wait, since I couldn't change the fact that such projectiles were still limited by the speed of light and the time it took to reach their destinations. I was just thankful that the system itself was rather small, with most of the planets being within, relative, close range of one another as opposed to being scattered through a much larger system.
Trying to pass the time, I went to micromanaging aspects of my infrastructure. It helped to partially distract me from the progress of the projectiles, but even then, it could only do so much. Battlefield awareness was literally hardwired into me, and I couldn't not pay attention to my own linked creations, no matter what they were. As a consequence, I was intrinsically aware of every second of travel time and felt like someone constantly looking at their watch, trying to will it to move faster but only causing it to feel like the minutes were dragging by at a painfully slow rate. It was only due to the fact that the speeds of each shell was carefully managed to allow for something approaching a multiple round simultaneous impact on all targets, whether they were on a planet, moon, or a fleet in orbit.
However, even with my own existence forcing me to be aware of every moment of time passing, the shells eventually reached the point of no return, and the attack began.
Signals raced through my network as real-time tracking of each target was compared to the sensor returns coming from each shell, confirmation was quickly given and I watched as the next phase began. Across the system, the same series of actions followed as explosive bolts detonated and threw off the outer casing of each shell, showing the hidden contents of each projectile to the rest of the system. Said payload was only visible for nanoseconds before it was accelerated from its carrier, an internal trigger causing the stasis fields on numerous containers to finally fail as Matter and Antimatter reacted, liberating vast amounts of energy and individually propelling two hundred and fifty Adamantium Flechettes across the void of space at even higher speeds. Out of the original one hundred and eighty shells, this same series of actions repeated over and over again through all but ten of them as space was filled with a razor-storm of mono-molecular edged spikes travelling at a significant fraction of the speed of light.
However, even with such speeds involved, it would have been foolish to think that none of the other factions wouldn't notice the resulting energy release caused by a Matter/Antimatter reaction. I watched through thousands of different sources as ships rumbled into action, as engines were fired and entire formations descended into chaos as voidcraft tried to avoid impacts with one another. The surprise had been total as Progenitor stealth systems, coupled with a few of my own ideas, proved their worth as no sensors had detected any of the shells until the last possible moment. Now, Captains scrambled to save ships and entire formations from the onslaught of projectiles that now bore down upon them all. Unfortunately for them, there was too little time, too little space to manoeuvre, and too many incoming projectiles bearing down on each fleet to do much of anything beyond praying and shouting orders that all knew couldn't be carried out in time.
And then impact.
Entire formations disappeared in the blink of an eye as the shields of lighter vessels flickered, and then died within moments, the sheer amount of kinetic energy imparted to each projectile making every impact akin to a directed nuclear blast. Heavier vessels followed moments later as shields wavered with every impact, before failing all together. Once proud vessels of one type or another were impaled on spikes of Adamanium before being blasted into oblivion by nuclear warhead contained in each spike moments later. Any crew members that survived the initial impact of each spike didn't even have time to escape, as they were blasted, boiled, irradiated and pulped by the following detonations that ripped through each warship. Pools of rapidly cooling, liquid metal and freezing gore cluttered the space around each wreck as distant explosions continued to fill the surrounding space with rapidly dissipating heat and radiation into the surrounding void. What few ships that still had survivors on them were at the mercy of the universe, as gravity tugged and tugged on their ruined craft and pulled them towards the planet or moon they had once orbited. Re-entry would not be an experience any of the mortal crew members could survive, and if that didn't kill the rest, then the impact probably would.
Of course, even as ships died and crews were blasted from existence, more than a few Flechettes skipped through the remains of entire formations and didn't even touch a single vessel. They sped downwards, pulled by gravity and pushed along by the Matter/Antimatter reaction that had launched them in the first place. As more ships died, more Flechettes got through, plummeting through the atmosphere of whichever planet or moon they had been fire at even as the flames of atmospheric re-entry played across the tip of each needle. Anyone that might have looked up in time would have seen them just before they were pulped by the shock waves caused by their passage through the air, looking like some god had drawn a red line in the sky that went terminated in the ground. It was only due to the insanely durable materials that each Flechette was constructed from, that they were even capable of surviving such impacts as some hit the ground and kept going, burrowing into the dirt and rock before detonating in an underground nuclear fireball that rocked the surrounding landscape. Other Flechettes detonated on impact, or in the air, causing shock waves that radiated outwards and blasting everything around them with overpressure, radiation and fire.
Whatever method that each Flechette used to finally detonated hardly mattered, as it served its purpose. Entire regions of planets, along massive sections of the two moons in the system, were reduced to little more than radiation-flooded wastelands as everything that might have previously lived there was blasted from the face of existence. It also had the helpful side effects of getting rid of the remaining Flechettes, ensuring that they wouldn't hit some alien planet a million years down the line, while also clearing an area of land of any hostile forces, and creating a landing zone for my own.
It was around this point, when the last nuclear mushroom cloud had finished forming and was slowly dissipating into the air, that the remaining ten shells finally reached the upper edge of the atmosphere. Explosive bolts detonated, finally freeing the contents of each shell from its carrier as five metal limbs extended upwards and outwards, revealing the form of the Foothold-Pattern Battle-Form. The name was rather indicative of the purpose of these giant, kilometre wide, starfish-shaped machines, having been designed to function as a mixture between a landing ship, a firebase and a combat unit all rolled into one, with all the firepower needed to get the job done. Two of these constructs slammed into each planet or moon in the system as engines came online and flared hard enough to rapidly slow their acceleration to a relative crawl as they 'landed' in pairs at their assigned locations. The ground shook with the impact, the shock waves caused by the displaced air working to further clear the area of hostiles and throwing up a dust cloud of radioactive ash in the process. An insanely overpowered Inertia compensation system, a heavily reinforced superstructure, and a series of 'hard' stasis fields were, perhaps, the only reasons that the Form even survived planetfall, but I was happy enough with the result as systems came fully online.
Real-time data started flowing from all ten Footholds as more systems finished booting up fully as they no longer needed to hide from probing sensors in interplanetary space. The equivalent firepower of six Bolos, spread between the five arms and the core, all came online moments after impact along with the smallest Void Shield I was currently willing to equip them with. Internally, inbuilt Foundries cycled into activity along with Nano-Hives that were scattered through the internal structure of the vast machine-complexes, with new Combat-Forms already in production before the smoke had even fully settled. However, all of that paled into insignificance when you looked at the final system I had incorporated into the landing craft, located in the core of each Foothold. In these core chambers, twenty-four Teleporter Gates sprang to life in an exact duplication of one of the many Hex-Nexus I had built throughout my Poly-Complexes on Kaurava I.
One hundred and sixty-six seconds after the detonation of the Matter/Anti-matter charge that signalled the beginning of my offensive, the first of my combat-ready Forms stepped through one of these Gates.
And it was not alone.
XXX
Across the system, my Forms marched to war.
Through each Foothold, my Forms flowed like an endless river that surged through Teleporter Gates, along with being assembled piece by piece by internal Foundries that rapidly produced Combat-Forms and Battle-Forms at a phenomenal rate. For nearly two minutes after the sudden attack had ended and my forces had landed, such operations continued without interruption as more and more Forms either came online inside the Footholds themselves, or marched through the Teleporter Gates that allowed all but my largest Forms passage. Such forces surged outwards in a wall of metal and guns that looked for any and all possible signs of hostile forces in the immediate area, a reconnaissance in force, as it were. It was only after two minutes had passed that I even started seeing the first signs of resistance, which came from the Orks of Kaurava II, surprisingly enough.
Charging through what remained of forests and swamps of the planet, they surged towards my forces through whatever means they could. Warbikes, Battlewagons, 'Kustom Boosta-Blastas' and a dozen other flavors of either Ork constructs or looted vehicles that had been 'repaired' and branded with Ork glyphs and icons. Smoke belched from exhausts and openings between ad-hoc armor schemes that looked more like scrap metal that had been welded together with no thought or plan beyond just doing it for the sake of it. Even as I watched, a few vehicles even caught fire, bursting into high-speed bonfires that crackled and banged with the sounds of ammo being cooked off within armored hulls, even as the machines continued to race forwards. However, even with the sounds of Ork engines filling the air with the thunder of pistons firing and misfiring, it faded into the background as the classic 'Waaagh!' war cry of Ork Hordes the Galaxy over filled the air and caused the earth to rumble from being trampled by a veritable ocean of greenskins. They covered the landscape in their multitudes as I noted the sheer diversity of the Orks as both a race and as a self-containing and self-propagating ecosystem.
In the seconds before the two armies clashed, as shells, bullets and bombs filled the air. A part of me had to give the Old Ones credit where it was due; They really knew how to create one hell of a bioweapon.
Ork vehicles and creatures smashed into the lines of Templars like the fist of an angry god, shouting, hooting and screaming their lungs out in excitement and anticipation as the first clash began. Metal continued to fill the air, formed from a mixture of Ork wrecks and Templar corpses as vehicles tried to keep going, surging deeper into the lines of my Combat-Forms, only to drown in their own blood. Speed only helped them survive for so long, and the trademarked durability of their technology and latent abilities only protected them against so much. Such abilities and capabilities certainly stopped working as wheels were ripped from axles, entire sections of metal work were blown away from frames, or as the drivers were ripped from their seats before being torn limb from limb. Some vehicles didn't even get that far, focused firepower from any number of sources working to reduce their prized vehicles into little more than tumbling scrap piles that disintegrated before they even reached my Templars. Smoke quickly started drifting into the sky, fed from the roaring fires centered on ruined machines that now littered the battlefield as both sides continued to advance.
Artillery fire danced between both sides, only growing more intense as the gap between Orks and Forms narrowed until not even a narrow strip of un-trampled ground remained. Bullets, rockets, shells, lasers, fire, plasma, lightning, and a dozen other exotic methods of dealing death all took a backseat as the region became ground zero of a contest of physical might. Ork melee weapons faced against the energized claws of my Templars, the air filling with the scent of Ozone even as the sound of guns continued to fill the air. Flamers sparked and showered entire sections of the battlefield with fire, turning entire mobs of Orks into roaring bonfires fueled by their burning flesh. Even then, they continued to fight onwards, rage and excitement being the only anaesthetic that they required as their tough biology allowed them to ignore the effects, for the most part. Overhead, aircraft of both sides continued to do battle in a deadly dance of speed, skill and manoeuvrability, a dance that only became more difficult as rockets, bullets and missiles cluttered the skies along with growing pillars of smoke that grow thicker with every passing moment. The sky itself changed as clouds formed and darkened into a barrier of grey and dark grey clouds. The first drops of water started raining down as the fighting continued not too long after, turning the soil into mud and soaking both sides with blood and mud in equal measure. Fires continued to rage despite the heavy rain that soon poured down, indeed, the water only served to make the fires worse as Chlorine Trifluoride reacted with water to produce columns of toxic gas. Visibility quickly disappeared as curtains of water and smoke made it difficult for either side to see what was going on around them beyond a certain distance, lightning strikes and distance explosions serving as the only real form of lighting even as both sides continued to kill, and be killed in turn.
However, neither side truly cared.
The Orks were simply having too much fun to care about such stupidly little things like visibility and weather conditions. They were having too much fun fighting my Templars to care as Ork Boyz were ripped apart by Templars, who were ripped apart by Mega-Armored Nobz or Ork Walkers, who were ripped apart in turn by artillery shells or heavier units in turn. They screamed, shouted, roared and laughed aloud, expressing their joy in a dozen different ways as I watched them, and my Forms, continue to kill and die. My Forms, in turn, didn't care about the changes to the battlefield, as inbuilt sensors and networked data inputs allowed them to ignore the poor visibility by simply changing the way they saw the world around them. Information was collected, analyzed and then distributed, allowing for greater efficiency as Forms altered their methods of fighting to more effectively combat the Orks. Casualties caused by friendly fire were considered acceptable as more Forms surged towards the front lines and added their numbers to the fighting as heavier Forms started either finishing their assembly in the Footholds, or stepped onto the planet for the first time since the battle started on Kaurava II.
They'd be needed, I knew, even as wrecks and corpses started to pile higher and higher, layers of dead forming across the battle space as aircraft turned into fireballs, crashing into the ground. Reports were surging through my network, showing that more Orks were coming as other formations came under assault by rampaging bands of Orks that had been drawn by the promise of a good fight and a chance to prove who was tougher. It was the reason why I had chosen to forsake the use of most of my lighter infantry units on Kaurava II, knowing that they wouldn't survive for long in the disorganized melees that Orks thrived in, while a Templar, a Legionnaire, or a Gladiator could.
By the time the five minute mark had gone by, a dozen battlefields had been created by the clash of my Forms and Orks, while other reports had started to come in from across the system. Resistance was building as other factions finally got their assess in gear and managed to get their chain of command in working order.
Space Marines were harassing Legionnaires at the edge of most battlefields, having identified them as a potential leadership-caste and marking them for elimination via high-powered, long range brain surgery. Not only that, but Terminators were running straight into the heavier fighting to eliminate minor Warbosses, supported by the Battle-Brothers in the form of Devastator squads. Rhinos, Predators, Land Raiders and any number of other Space Marine vehicles are deployed to spearhead massive decapitating strikes, on both Orks and my own forces. Alerts are even sent as a few scouts are spotted by the Footholds, before being killed or pushed back by the sheer concentration of fire power present. On Nan Yanoi, the Tau had dug in deep and were firing everything they had at any Form that came within range, even as pillars of light continued to rain down from the still-intact Ar'Ka Cannon satellites in orbit, to surprisingly little effect. Fire warriors held firm as rapid reaction forces bounced from one combat zone to another, using every weapon they had at hand, including a few I was surprised to see, such as XV104 Riptides, XV95 Ghostkeels, KV128 Stormsurges, and even a trinity of KX139 Ta'unar Supremacy Armors. This was especially surprising since, according to what calendars I had found, the Third Sphere Expansion wasn't due to begin for another four or five years, at the very least.
On Kaurava III, Eldar Aspect Warriors harass my Forms whenever they can before disappearing moments later when they slip into Webway portals that refuse to even flicker across any number of sensors. Such attacks come time and again as my Forms scour the landscape for their ambushers, but usually only find themselves marching straight into a patrol of Necrons that just happened to be in the area. Initial reports were vague, but I could guess at what was happening as the Eldar Farseer in command, Caerys, was leading my Forms around by the nose in an effort to both fight the Necrons and to spare Eldar lives. I didn't doubt that the damned long-eared bitch was doing the same to the Necrons and tricking them into confronting my own forces whenever possible. Admittedly, it was an impressive strategy, but that didn't mean that I enjoyed my own forces being used as cannon-fodder by the bitch, nor did it mean that I wasn't going to try catching the bitch and making my irritation known. Preferably, with the use of Phase Iron needles, if I could get my hands on the material.
And lastly, Kaurava IV and Lacunae.
The planet itself had gone to hell in a handbasket well before the arrival of my Footholds, and it was only getting worse and worse as time passed. After the Orks, the forces of Chaos were the first to react to my presence on the planet, and were making it known that they didn't want me there in any way, shape or form. Wave after wave of Cultists, Mutants, Traitor Marines and Daemons were the order of the day, and they had no problem throwing themselves into the teeth of my formations in some demented effort to bleed my forces dry. The Warp-tainted nature of the planet certainly didn't help matters, and it had been one of the reasons why I had also gone the extra mile with those Footholds, giving them especially strong Void Shields and adding a few Gellar Field Generators as added protection. From the reports I was reading, any attempt to expand outwards from the initial landing zones was a slow and painful process as masses of madmen and women surged towards the front lines, even if a large section of the planet had been reduced to a nuclear wasteland. Said wasteland was also growing, if only because I had absolutely no problem with jumping on the Imperial party line of 'Purge the unclean!' in this instance. Templars were the mainline infantry on the planet, and they had been given a number of add-ons and software updates to help sterilize the entire planet. Neutron Grenades, Cobalt-jacketed Nuclear mortar shells and thirty millimeter, Californium-252-armed nuclear bullets were just some of the standard weapons that I had armed them with. Flamers were also seeing heavy usage to go along with any number of weapons that had either been coated, jacketed, plated, or made from pure silver, or an alloy of it. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.
By comparison, Lacunae was a tad bit more relaxing due to both the nature of my enemy on the moon, and the nature of my own forces. So far, the only thing the Dark Eldar had even managed to do was slow down some of the vanguard formations with hit-and-run attacks that did little to slow the rest down. Machines didn't feel fear or agony, nor were they affected by poisons or toxins that the Dark Eldar made such heavy usage of. As such, beyond the losses caused by the hit-and-run attacks, which were happening increasingly frequently as time passed, the actual loses being taken were light in comparison to the other locations in the system. Still, I had no intention of letting them try to either drag the conflict on, nor did I feel inclined to let them escape the system. The result was that Lacunae now had a steady stream of Phonoi Battle-Forms coming through the Teleporter Gates before either forming into Hunter teams, or going solo to hunt on their own. They had yet to find anything yet, but they were learning how to track these Drukhari, and at a rapid pace as more and more assets became available to them.
The Endgame for the Kaurava system had begun, and I had no intention to come out among the losers.
XXX
AN: Ok, so, there you have my latest attempt at writing a semi-decent story. Honestly not sure if it's an improvement or not, but fingers crossed. Anyway, feel free to comment and offer feedback going forwards, and I hope you enjoyed the read.