Chapter-2.
Taking Stock
Moskvya City.
SOCIALIST COALITION OF VOSTOKVAKIA
DEC 21st 1990
The mail clerk grumbled as he sorted the mail into the automatic conveyor belts. Most of the letters were probably from the Naval Bases in the North, the submariners. He gave another grunt. The man had once been a tank rider, part of Marshal Andreyev's 12th Shock Army. Now that was a good job. Ah those were the good old days. When something needed to be done, it was DONE. 45 years had passed and now what happened to the Vostokvakian fighting spirit. He and his comrades, all young boys and girls at the time had known no comfort but the exhaust of the tanks they rode on. Now they pampered the Armed Forces too much, its members from the lowest rank and upwards lived like Czarist Princes. Technology had made them soft. And the Liberalization and Democratization of the Socialist Coalition of Vostokvakia had turned the motherland into an unrecognizable place for him.
Of course, it wasn't all bad. He had luxuries he couldn't imagine. The clerk sighed. And then he heard the sirens. He remembered them from the 2nd Great War. Grunting he shuffled to the window. Outside, the neon signs and billboards glowed while gunfire and explosions sounded far away in the outskirts. He looked down the street. First, a pair of mighty T-80U's trundled past, followed by trucks filled with young faces. Conscripts from Trakyeva.
"Yakov, look at the TV" the voice of Eviyeny, a younger Mail employee called out.
Yakov shuffled over to the small TV sitting on the mailroom counter. The state news channel was showing scenes of chaotic fighting on the outskirts of Moskvya. Armored soldiers in bizarre uniforms were battling Vostokvakian troops and tanks.
"What in Stalin's name is going on out there?" Yakov muttered.
Eviyeny shook his head, eyes glued to the screen. "The news anchor said something about invaders from space landing around the country. Like some alien attack!"
Yakov scowled as a T-80 exploded after being hit by a searing red beam of light from one of the invader's weapons. He had crewed tanks just like that in his youth.
"In my day, we would have crushed these fascists without breaking a sweat," he grumbled. "But today's army has gotten soft and complacent."
He watched as a squad of fresh-faced conscript soldiers moved warily through the streets; guns raised. Mere boys and girls who had probably never seen real combat before today.
Suddenly a battered T-72 lumbered around a corner, followed by a truck of hard-eyed naval infantry troops. Yakov recognized the anchor and shark insignia on their uniforms - an elite unit.
"Now those are some proper soldiers," Yakov remarked approvingly. "Maybe they can show these bastards some real Vostokvakian steel."
The battle for Moskvya raged on the TV as Yakov watched, emotions swirling. Once again, war had come to the Motherland.
Brother Chaplin Atreus.
Crimson Hounds Chapter
Unknown REBEL City
Brother Chaplin Atreus grunted as the gunfire increased around him increased. He took cover near a pile of rubble. Occasionally he would peek out only to be forced back into cover. Those Slug throwers these traitors held might have looked non-threatening, but they hurt a lot. He grinned inwardly as a Land Raider arrived; it would put these traitors in its place. Only that was not what happened…
Atreus watched as a small grenade sailed over in an arc, landing primly on the Land Raider. He had to give a chuckle. They must be desperate if they thought…
There was hum before the Land Raider lit up like a plasma reactor. It was covered entirely in electricity. Unlucky Astartes found their Power Armor shutting down as they got to close. He ran towards the Tank as the electricity stopped and opened the door.
"Brother, are you alright? Why aren't you attacking" he asked the rather disoriented driver.
"The systems won't respond" a Techmarine wailed. "Its like they destroyed the Machine-Spirit of the tank."
Atreus frowned within his skull-faced helmet. These primitive slug throwers had somehow laid low an Imperial Land Raider with a single projectile.
"Techmarine, get this beast moving again, by any means necessary," he ordered. "We cannot let these heretics halt our advance."
The Techmarine frantically began restarting system rituals and machine prayers, to no avail. With its Machine Spirit gone, the once-mighty Land Raider was little more than a pile of useless ceramite.
Cursing in High Gothic, Atreus rallied the startled Astartes who had debarked from the stricken vehicle. "Brothers, it seems these traitors have some foul sorcery at their disposal. But we shall not falter! Onwards, for the emperor!"
The Space Marines roared praise to the Master of Mankind and surged forward, storm bolters spitting death. Atreus drew his crozius arcanum and followed, shrugging off slugs that glanced off his artifact armor.
Up ahead, he saw the origination point of the grenade - some sort of tube wielded by a soldier in strange fatigues. "Take out that heretek weapon!" Atreus commanded.
The Astartes obeyed, riddling the soldier with mass-reactive rounds until he was a bloody ruin. But to Atreus' dismay, more of the odd tubes appeared in enemy hands.
"TO ME BROTHERS, SMASH THROUGH THEIR DEFENSES, THE EMPEROR PROTECTS!" Atreus roared before charging forward. One way or another…they would Prevail.
MLADSHY SERHZANT VIKHOR IVAN ZOKOV, 21st GUARDS TANK DIVISION. T-80U NO 215. MOSKYVYA
The T-80U rumbled. From his Electrobinoculars, Vikhor could see the massive, armoured soldiers, they were huge. His Anti-Tank round barely did anything to one of them. and his tank was the only survivor now.
"Load ZHsM8b Chemical shell fucking quick" he ordered the loader, Akhmet, a Uzeri from the Uzerbian CSR.
Zokov kept his eyes glued to the sights as the loader scrambled to ready the chemical shell. Outside, the sounds of intense urban warfare filtered into the tank - gunfire, explosions, and the screams of the dying.
Their unit had been decimated trying to halt the relentless advance of the towering enemy soldiers clad in thick armor. Regular anti-tank rounds barely scratched the surface.
"Loaded, ready to fire!" reported Akhmet. Zokov exhaled and carefully aligned the crosshairs on one of the hulking hostiles.
"Fire!"
The T-80 bucked as the chemical round streaked out. It impacted the target's chest plate and burst open, dousing the alien warrior in corrosive fluid. The thing stumbled back, clawing at itself as the chemicals ate through its armor and into the flesh beneath.
"Direct hit, good effect on target!" Zokov reported. "Load another, quick!"
But before Akhmet could respond, a titanic blast rocked the tank. Alarms blared and Zokov smelled acrid smoke.
"We're hit, turret's disabled!" screamed the gunner. "Abandon tank!"
The crew scrambled out just as fire reached the ammo rack. The T-80 erupted into a massive fireball, becoming another casualty of this calamitous invasion.
GUARDSWOMAN ANNA MIRKANOFF
331st VALHALAN ICE WARRIORS REGIMENT
UNKNOWN CITY.
Mirkanoff watched as the crew of the strange enemy tank bailed out as it exploded thanks to a Meltagun round before looking back at the Space Marine whose squad was supporting her unit. "Just what did they fire at him" she thought. The tank had fired some strange shell, and now the Astartes was screaming.
She watched in horror as the Space Marine convulsed and shrieked, clutching at his armor. Acrid smoke rose from cracks in the ceramite plates.
The Apothecary rushed over, scanning with his narthecium. "Corrosive substance eating through his armor and into the flesh. Gene-seed has been compromised."
With practiced efficiency, the Apothecary plunged a syringe into the writhing Marine's neck. The spasms slowed, then stopped altogether as the antidote took effect.
Mirkanoff approached hesitantly. "Will he survive, sir?"
The Apothecary did not look up from his patient. "The damage is extensive. But we must try to save this warrior - he may have valuable intelligence on this new enemy weapon."
Guardsmen carried the stricken battle brother back towards the rear echelon. Mirkanoff turned to watch the enemy crew disappear into a sewer tunnel.
She shivered, thinking how close they had come to losing one of the mighty Astartes. If these savages had unlocked some way to dissolve power armor, it could tip the scales against the invasion.
They would need to capture these corrosive weapons quickly, or entire Chapters could perish from this insidious new threat.
Techmarine Lucius
Ultramarines Chapter
UKNOWN PLANET
UKNOWN LOCATION
"So let me get this straight" Lucius boomed at a rather Hapless looking Lady-Inquisitor. "You and your troops found a local factory, tried to get through authentication by inputting a wrong code 5 times because the technology seems too advanced, and now 3 squads of Inquisition Tempestus Scions are locked in, and none of our weapons...not even a Leman Russ cannon are breaking through. I cannot help you Inquisitor; this world's technology isPRACTICALLY MAKING RETHINK MY LIFE CHOICES. ITS ALL 1s AND BLOODY 0S"
The young Inquisitor wilted under the Techmarine's tirade.
"I... we did not anticipate such advanced encryptions," she stammered. "Surely a Space Marine of your capabilities can overcome a mere door?"
Lucius threw his mechadendrites up in exasperation. "Oh yes, let me just wave my magic wand and make this infernal machine-devil open up!"
He gestured angrily at the keypad which had so vexed them. "This advanced computation device mocks me with its resilience! I could run a plasma cutter over it for a year and still gain no purchase!"
The Inquisitor opened her mouth to respond but Lucius barreled on.
"In all my centuries of service, I have never witnessed such bewitchments as these cursed 1s and 0s! Why, I have half a mind to declare Exterminatus on this planet and its heretical technology!"
He abruptly paused, blinking. "Wait. Did you try 'password' as the code?"
The Inquisitor flushed deeply. "I... we may have overlooked that possibility."
Lucius shoved her aside and typed in the obvious password. With an almost smug beep, the armored door slid open.
"For frag's sake! The Omnissiah weeps at this incompetence!" Lucius cried. "Now fetch me some sacred oils, I must anoint my armor to cleanse this disgrace."
The Inquisitor scurried off as Lucius continued grumbling in binaric cant.
FORMER ENEMY HQ
INQUISITOR SARI OLIVIER
UNKNOWN LOCATION
In another massive building, probably an HQ belonging to one of the Primitive Nations, Lady Inquisitor Sari Olivier was banging her head against a supposedly "Primitive" computer terminal. It most certainly was not primitive. Every file she came across had one word. "ZENSIERT". "OH, COME ON!" she screeched at the unfamiliar map. these Ulraz-Navians were really getting on her nerves. Sari sighed in frustration as, yet another classified file was blocked by the infernal "ZENSIERT" notice. This planet's primitive technology was not supposed to be this advanced or secured.
"Throne-damned machine spirits," she muttered. The decryption lexicons and Binaric rituals provided by the Adeptus Mechanicus were completely ineffective against the strange Ulraznavian cogitators.
She had hoped to quickly glean information on planetary defenses and military assets from an enemy headquarters. Instead, she was locked out by encryption and access protocols well beyond anything the Imperium used.
The nearby team of Tempestus Scions stood guard nervously as she worked. Clearly her reputation as an inquisitor able to bypass any network was being put to the test.
"Milady, perhaps we should withdraw and request assistance from the Legio Cybernetica?" suggested her Interrogator, Fromos. "Their cyber-thrall servitors may prove more capable against this technology."
"A last resort," Sari replied tersely. "I will not be thwarted by these primitive machines."
Cracking her knuckles, she dove back in, trying every decryption form and sacred ritual. But the Ulraznavian systems rebuffed her at every turn.
Growling in frustration, Sari pushed back from the terminal. Perhaps it was time to cut her losses and call for Cybernetica allies. These modern cogitators were disturbingly advanced, and clearly encrypted with devious machine spirits.
"Very well, we will withdraw for now and return with heavier augmetics support," she told Fromos grudgingly. The young Interrogator nodded; relief evident on his face.
Reluctantly turning her back on the vexing terminal, Sari led her team out. She had lost this rou/nd, but the secrets of the Ulraznavians would not elude her forever.
Lt Valrik Kinzel.108th Cadian Regiment "Crimson Guard"
Currently travelling with Capt. Sera toward friendly lines.
They had been travelling for days now after leaving the wreck of their Valkyrie. The heat of this planet was driving them crazy. Kinzel trudged wearily through the arid landscape, throat parched, and uniform soaked with sweat. Beside him, Captain Sera looked equally miserable in the unrelenting heat.
"Emperor's ballsack, feels like we crashed landed on a damn magma world," she croaked, taking a small sip from her nearly empty canteen.
Kinzel could only nod, too exhausted for a verbal reply. Ever since abandoning their downed Valkyrie, they had been navigating this desert wasteland with no real idea of where friendly forces might be located. The harsh sun and lack of water was taking its toll.
During the day they took shelter in whatever shade they could find, while moving as far as possible each night. Both soldiers were running on fumes, living off the meager rations and water they had managed to salvage before setting out.
When they crested a large dune, Sera let out a weary cheer. In the distance, Kinzel could make out an Imperial Guard outpost established around a fortified position. It looked like their Luck had finally turned.
With their destination in sight, Kinzel and Sera found renewed vigor. The outpost meant salvation - water, food, and reinforcements to continue the fight against these planet's strange inhabitants.
Picking up the pace, they hurried across the sandy wastes towards the outpost. Salvation was close at hand. Once refreshed and resupplied, they would be ready to teach these alien mongrels the true fury of the Imperial Guard.
"Ready for round two with these bastards, Lieutenant?" Sera asked with a wry grin.
Kinzel simply nodded and smiled back tightly. Oh yes, vengeance would be sweet.
Kinzel's spirits sunk as they approached the Imperial outpost. From a distance, it had appeared a welcoming bastion, but up close the sorry situation was evident.
The perimeter defenses were damaged and incomplete, with only a few listless guards on watch. Inside, the base was a disorganized mess, with groups of dispirited soldiers sitting around makeshift shelters.
"Throne, this is even more miserable than where we came from," Sera grumbled as they entered.
The base commander, a haggard Major, gave them a cursory debrief before dismissing them to find space in the crowded tents. It was clear few reinforcements or resupplies would be arriving anytime soon.
Scrounging meager rations and tepid water, Kinzel and Sera slumped down against a perimeter wall. The aid station was overflowing with the wounded and dying, with exhausted medicae staff struggling to cope.
"Some Emperor-damned reinforcements this is," Sera snorted derisively. "Commissar should be shooting the sorry grox-fraks too depressed to fight."
Kinzel grimly cleaned his lasgun, the once pristine barrel now scratched and dusty. This entire planet was proving a quagmire for the Imperial forces.
"If we wait for proper reinforcements, we'll be old and grey Captain," he said wearily. "Seems we'll have to make do with what Emperor provides."
Sera spat in the dirt. "Aye, ain't that the sad truth." She watched a formation of the strange enemy flyers roar by in the distance. "Better than dying in this wasteland though."
With a grumble, she hefted her plasma gun and began performing maintenance. Kinzel sighed and did the same with his lasgun. If they hoped to survive this purgatory, their weapons at least needed to be battle-ready.
BAD ORB
ULRAZNAVIAN FEDERATION
HAUPTMANN ANNA MEYER
ULRAZNAVIAN ARMY GROUP WEST
DECEMBER 21st 1990
The quite West Ulraznavian village of Bad Orb was silent. Everyone had been evacuated and besides 9. Panzerdivision, there was the Concordian Forces from 1-11 ACR, and even they had been reduced to a company size. "Any news from OFN CENTAG in Frankfurt" she asked the Concordian Tank Commander. It was day 2 of the war.
The Concordian tank commander shook his head grimly. "Last we heard, Frankfurt is still contested, as is all of Ulraznavia west of the Ruhr. Enemy has them surrounded."
She swore loudly. All her unit had left were her company of Leopard 2A4 tanks, a Leopard I platoon, an SA-11 Buk M3 (produced under license from Vostokvakia) group, 3 squads of Panzergrenadiers and a Luchs Spähtrupp. The Concordians only had a company size of Abrams, Bradley's and Infantry, as well as Sabre Lead, an A-10 Warthog unit. They were facing unknown enemy forces.
"The only message CENTAG sent says that a Landwehr force is en-route, in a few hours" the Concordian Infantry Lt, an Afro Concordian woman reported.
"We won't be here in fucking few hours" Meyer screamed.
"Don't shoot! Friendly's, Nicht schussen!" a voice cried out in East Ulraznavian accented West Ulraznavian. Meyer watched as a squadron of T-80U/MDs approached, followed by BMP-3 IFVs carrying soldiers wearing the distinct red beret and White and blue undershirt of the Ulraznavian Airborne. The insignia marked them as members of the Ulraznavian 277th Air Assault Brigade. Meyer knew Ulraznavia produced and fielded T-80s, she had trained on one for a short while before feeling the Leopard 2 was better, hence she arrived back from the Federations Eastern regions in 89. Wasn't this unit supposed to be defending Niederstadt?
"Where is the rest of your division" she called out in East Ulraznavian.
"This IS the division, or what's left of it" a paratroop officer called out
Meyer felt her heart sink as the paratrooper delivered the grim news. The 277th had been decimated, reduced to this lone company that stood before them.
She switched back to West Ulraznavian to address them. "You men have shown great resilience making it this far. Join us, and we will make the enemy pay for every meter of Ulraznavian soil."
The paratroopers gratefully accepted water and ammunition from the Panzergrenadiers. As they rested, Meyer gathered her remaining officers to plan their next move.
"Our priority must be to stall the enemy advance until reinforcements arrive," she said. "We'll use hit-and-run tactics - ambushes, mines, and mobile defense to bleed them. Avoid direct confrontation."
The Concordian, Captain Rhodes, nodded agreement. "My Warthogs can provide close air support when targets present themselves. Just call it in."
She only prayed Landwehr reinforcements would arrive before they were overwhelmed. But they would sell their lives dearly regardless.
BAD ORB, OUTSKIRTS
Lt Evan Rudrik Kahl maneuvered his BMP-3. A native of the West Ulraznavian city of Trientier, Kahl was certain his BMP could take on the invaders, it was literally a small tank. So far, it looked to be true.
"Damn, for being invaders from space, they sure are lousy. Hell, even the commie Vostokvakians aren't that incompetent" Rudiger, the driver grinned.
Kahl grinned back at Rudiger. "Don't get cocky yet, we've only faced their scout elements. The real forces are still to come."
Still, Kahl had to admit these aliens were remarkably inept so far. Their armor was slow and clumsy, easily outmaneuvered by the BMP's speed. Their soldiers seemed to rely on massed infantry waves, not combined arms tactics. And their walkers...don't even get him started on the absurd Titans.
As they crested a ridge, Kahl spotted a fresh enemy column advancing up the road. IFVs and heavy tanks, defended by dug-in infantry. Now things might get interesting.
"Rudiger, find us a concealed firing position. Maschinengewehr, target infantry first. Panzerabwehr, aim for lead vehicle." Kahl pointed at the lumbering alien tank. "We'll knock that beast out first."
The BMP slid into a hull down spot. On Kahl's command, the 30mm cannon barked, sending high explosive rounds into the entrenched infantry. Then the shaped charge warhead of the Konkurs ATGM streaked out, punching into the alien tank's front armor. A massive ball of flame told Kahl that his BMP had scored another kill, its 9th.
"I think we'll be aces Kamerads. And its only day 2!". The crew shared a laugh before speeding onwards, the enemy command center was near. Another Vehicle appeared in the BMP's Gunsight. It got no chance as the BMP's Autocannon began to fire. The vehicle erupted into a satisfying fireball. Kahl allowed himself a fierce grin. Maybe these invaders weren't so fearsome after all.
"Good hits, now let's relocate before return fire." Kahl barked. They sped away just as shells began landing where they had been. "Stay mobile and we'll run rings around them!"
IMPERIAL LINES
General Rika of the 5th Chaserkin Regiment screamed her vocal chords out. These damn heretics and their god emperor dammed APC, and they still had not found the traitor Planetary Governor! "Can't you worthless women do anything" she screeched at the commander of the supporting Sororitas contingent.
Sister Superior Lucia bristled at the general's words. "Mind your tongue, lest you forget who you speak to. We are the Adepta Sororitas, Brides of the Emperor."
She gestured at the wounded Sisters being treated behind her. "We have sacrificed much to take this city, only for your forces to allow the governor to escape. Do not dare question our commitment."
Lucia sighed and softened her tone. "However, recriminations serve no purpose now. We must coordinate our efforts, combining arms and tactics, to corner and destroy this elusive foe."
She motioned a Celestian over. "Sister Elena will act as liaison, to ensure fluid communication between our forces."
Elena stepped forward, power armor hissing. "I shall relay any intelligence on enemy movements swiftly. The citizens also seem more willing to cooperate with us - we will make use of that."
Lucia nodded. "Together, Sisters and Guardsmen shall tighten the net on this heretical governor. For the Emperor."
General Rika grunted begrudgingly. "For the Emperor." She turned to bark orders at her commissars, preparing search patterns and sweeps.
Lucia allowed herself a tight smile. The Sororitas would teach this pompous general some humility yet. And the governor's time was quickly running out.
And then the tent exploded in a sheet of flame. Lucia watched in morbid fascination as the small, troublesome APC burst through, crushing the corpses of the General and the Celestian.
Lt Kahl hadn't expected a prisoner, after all none of the invaders seemed to speak Edenite or be allowed to be captured. And they looked human.
"Whoopee, well Jugund's, we got ourselves a VIP here. looks like a cosplayer."
"Herr Leutenant, I do not think she can understand us."
Lucia could only stare in shock. These Heretics silently looked at her before one clasped on a pair of strange handcuffs before guiding her to the back of the APC. "Wha...Wha...What" she stuttered.
She could barely comprehend what was happening as the strange soldiers roughly shoved her into their armored vehicle. They jabbered in their odd foreign tongue, utterly alien to her ears.
She tried to struggle, but the odd metal cuffs they had locked on her wrists negated her prodigious strength. Lucia was left helpless, at the mercy of these mysterious foes.
As the vehicle rumbled into motion, Lucia stared around the empty troop compartment. It looked like it could hold 7 soldiers, plus 2 extra seats. There didn't seem to be any Machine Spirit. Strange Warnings, odd contraptions and weaponry, and crates of munitions marked with cryptic letters.
Lucia flinched as one of the enemy soldiers examined her power armor with evident curiosity, rapping his knuckles against the blessed ceramite plating. This whole situation felt unreal, like a strange vision.
But the throbbing pain from a burn told Lucia this was no mere nightmare. She had been captured by the enemy. Her faith would be tested like never before in the trials to come.
Closing her eyes, Lucia whispered a fervent prayer to the emperor for strength and clarity. She would need His Guidance now more than ever.
When she opened them again, Lucia's gaze was steely with renewed resolve. Whatever these heathens had planned, she would face it without fear. The Emperor Protects.
And... her vox...sweet emperor, one of them had it in his hand.
Sgt Razmukhin stared at a device. "Sir, this thing is fucking primitive, a child could break through the encryption" he told Kahl. He'd taken it off their prisoner.
He turned the archaic-looking device over in his hands. The encryption was laughably basic, the kind of amateur stuff they handed out to school kids for puzzles. He almost felt bad cracking something so primitive.
"Primitive is right, this tech is ancient," he scoffed. "No quantum electric circuits, no nanite transistors. Looks like something from a museum display!"
Razmukhin plugged the device into his crypt-analyzer. The software chewed through the encryption in seconds, unraveling data streams and code.
"Accessing...got it! Their coms network is an open book now." He shook his head in disbelief. "This is worse than civilian models from the early 50s. BND Spooks will have a field day with this, if they can translate the language that is."
Lt. Kahl gave an amused snort from the driver's seat. "No wonder we're running circles around them. Alright, start monitoring their transmissions, sergeant. Let's see what our enemies are up to."
"Yes sir!" Razmukhin settled in eagerly, tapping commands to delve into the unlocked data. Finally, something interesting after weeks of plodding patrols.
He almost felt sorry for these invaders and their antiquated gear. Like taking candy from a baby. Almost took the fun and challenge out of it...almost.
Sister Lucia clutched her head in despair as the soldiers laughed and jeered. She had failed the Order, allowing these heretics access to the sacred communications network. Anything transmitted could now be intercepted. Movements of troops, plans of attack, even correspondence from Terra itself - all were exposed.
Hot tears of shame pricked Lucia's eyes. She had brought ruin upon her sisters with this catastrophic breach. The secrets they had guarded for millennia, now laid bare.
Lucia could already imagine the triumphant shouts of the tech-savants back at the convent as they discovered the intrusion. They had warned against relying on ancient ciphers, pleading for modernization. But Lucia had dismissed them as nervous hens, too steeped in lore to see the tenets of faith were protection enough.
How wrong she had been. Faith alone was not sufficient against these technologically advanced foes. Lucia had learned that bitter lesson too late.
All she could do now was bow her head and whisper litanies of penitence. She prayed fervently for the Emperor's forgiveness and for her sisters' deliverance from the consequences of her failure. Though she knew she deserved no mercy for what she had enabled.
The Emperor Protects...but Lucia had not protected her Order. That knowledge cut deeper than any blade.
BMP-3 CREW COMPARTMENT
"Sir, she seems to be praying" Rudiger said to Kahl on drive back as he looked into the backside. Lt. Kahl glanced back at their strange prisoner. She sat rigidly still, head bowed and lips moving in some silent incantation. Her eyes stayed closed, seemingly oblivious to the rumbling transport around her.
"Let her pray, it's no concern of ours," Kahl said with a shrug. Their orders were to capture enemies alive for interrogation. Beyond that, he cared little for the beliefs of these invaders.
Rudiger shook his head in wonder. "Incredible that savages like these mastered space travel. She looks ready for a medieval reenactment, not an invasion."
He nudged a large metal crest that had fallen off the prisoner's armor. "And worshipping made-up gods! No different than our ancient ancestors kneeling before Odin or Zeus."
Kahl had to agree this one's fanatical devotion was bizarre. Perhaps she prayed for rescue or deliverance. Her hopes would be in vain.
"Culture shock is awaiting our guest, once we get her back to base" Kahl remarked. "I almost pity her; this foe is woefully outmatched."
Their prisoner's eyes suddenly snapped open, blazing with anger and defiance. Kahl met that fiery gaze steadily. She would learn her gods held no power here.
Major Charles Leslie
4th Lancers, C squadron
United Kingdom of Eden Army
Edenite Army on the Rhine.
North Ulraznavian Plain
Town of Hümmelsfuld
December 21st, 1990
Major Charles Leslie watched from the cupola of his Chieftain Mk-10. behind him, the rest of C squadron formed up just outside the outskirts of the town. Its civilian populace had long evacuated, yet it was still uneasy to find the neon billboards still on. Captain Amanda Walker gave him a thumbs up from her tank.
Ahead, the gutted remains of a few enemy tanks lay. And behind Leslie, was a vehicle in which prisoners were kept. He heard the distinct clatter of armor. More tanks. Major Leslie tensed as the distinctive clanking of the tanks grew louder. Gripping the cupola railing, he scanned the rubble-strewn streets ahead through his electrobinoculars.
To his right, Captain Walker had her Chieftain rotated to cover the flank, while Sergeant Park monitored the prisoners in the Chinook behind them. Over the radio, the rest of C Squadron reported readiness. They had taken this town just hours ago, but it seemed the Invaders were moving to retake it.
Leslie spotted movement down a bombed-out avenue. "Heads up, eyes on enemy armor, nine o'clock!" he barked into the mic.
Sure enough, a tank rounded the corner, followed by two more in standard wedge formation. Leslie lowered his sights as the tanks advanced, trampling wrecked cars under their treads.
"Hold fire until my mark," he commanded. "We'll catch them in the Killzone."
The enemy tanks rumbled closer, unaware of the ambush lying in wait. Leslie tracked the lead vehicle in his crosshairs, finger hovering over the fire button.
At 200 meters, he gave the order. "All units, light 'em up!"
The avenue erupted into flames as C Squadron's cannons roared. The frontal machine took a direct hit, brewing up in spectacular fashion. The other two returned fire wildly, rounds cratering buildings around the hidden Chieftains.
"Move to alternate positions, keep hitting them!" Leslie yelled, his own gunner slamming shells downrange.
The battle raged fiercely for several minutes before both enemy tanks were left as flaming wrecks. Leslie exhaled slowly as silence returned to the battered streets. C Squadron had carried the day.
"Nice shooting lads and ladies, first rounds on me back at camp," he radioed proudly. They would hold this town a while longer against the Invader onslaught.
RAF Chinook Helicopter
POW Holding Area
1990
Leslie now focused on the few prisoners they had taken after the engagement. To his surprise he found the most ornate one cheerfully congratulating him. According to intel, he was one Colonel Jonah S. Smith from a "9th Praetorian regiment". To Leslie, Smith's red uniform with its blue trousers, white pith helmet and mustache made him look like something from Ataria's Victorian Era.
"Jolly brilliant shooting sir, Bravo, bravo! Give my compliments to your chaps, especially the ladies. finest display of tankery I ever saw" Smith was grinning like a schoolboy.
Leslie raised an eyebrow at the enthusiastic Colonel as he approached the prisoner holding area. Jonah Smith seemed oddly cheerful for someone who had just been captured after a ferocious battle.
"Appreciate the compliments on our gunnery," Leslie replied cautiously. "Your chaps put up a decent scrap as well."
"Oh, top hole show from your crews, no mistake!" Smith said, beaming. "That ambush was downright cunning, lad. Tell me, are all your countrymen such artful tacticians? Capital work, capital!"
Leslie wasn't sure how to respond to the effusive Imperial prisoner. Smith seemed to regard the entire engagement as a sporting match between friendly rivals rather than warring enemies.
"Right, well...thank you, Colonel." Leslie motioned to the guards. "We'll be taking you back behind our lines for a proper interrogation now."
"Of course, of course! Happy to discuss matters back at your headquarters, dear boy," Smith said amiably. "Perhaps over a nice cup of tanna? Terribly parched after all that excitement. If you have any that is."
Leslie suppressed a chuckle. Smith was certainly an odd duck. With such genteel manners, he seemed better suited for the officer's club than the battlefield. Nevertheless, he likely had good intel to provide.
"We'll see about tea and biscuits after our talk, Colonel," Leslie replied, clasping the prisoner's shoulder and guiding him to the cells. Smith followed along dutifully, whistling a jaunty tune without a care. Behind him his staff, in all their Victorian Edenite style uniforms followed. Some of the older ones had apologetic expressions while the younger were sullen and silent.
Leslie watched them troop off in silence as the Helicopter began to take off. He could see Smith grinning delightedly. He sighed. War always brought the most colorful characters to his sector.
RAF Chinook
ETA EDENITE ARMY OF THE RHINE (EAOR) HQ
1990
In the Edenite Royal Air Force Chinook helicopter, A younger staff member, Jemina, grumbled. "Let's take control of this aircraft and fly it back to Imperial lines". Smith chuckled. "Oh, and how do you expect to fly this advanced rotorcraft, Lassie?"
Jemina blushed furiously as Colonel Smith called out her foolish suggestion.
"I don't know sir, I just thought maybe we could try..." she mumbled, embarrassed.
Smith patted her shoulder reassuringly. "There there my dear, no need for that. We are prisoners of war and must conduct ourselves accordingly."
He glanced around at the advanced interior of the helicopter.
"Besides, I rather doubt any of us could operate this contraption, fascinating as it is. Their technologies are beyond even our best Enginseers and Archaeotech."
One of the junior officers nodded glumly. "The Major is right sir. We'd likely crash this thing before even lifting off."
Jemina studied a complex control panel, now realizing her plan had been an impulse driven by humiliation at their defeat.
Smith gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Chin up lass, we'll get through this. Play our cards right, and we may earn some concessions from our captors. Perhaps even exchange and repatriation if we're cooperative."
He smiled reassuringly, his indomitable cheer lifting Jemina's spirits slightly. They were prisoners for now, but the war was far from over. And if anyone could charm their way through captivity, it was the bold Colonel Smith.
Jemina took a deep breath and sat up straight. Their people still needed them. It was no time for rash actions. She would follow the Colonel's lead and face their predicament with Anglican dignity. The Imperium never abandoned its sons and daughters.
"Alright Torchwick" Smith referred to his ADC. "What do you think of the enemy's tanks, that gun is a smasher. Sweet throne what a range. These Primitives certainly have better technology. And that Still Brew armor package, wowzah. I hate to wonder what other nations technology of this planet is like. Then and again, it appears we will be spending this conflict in a cell. "
Captain Torchwick nodded thoughtfully at the Colonel's assessment.
"Aye sir, their Chieftain tanks are certainly formidable. That 120mm rifled gun outranges our Battle Cannons, and the composite armor shrugs off most Imperial tank rounds."
He stroked his trim mustache, considering.
"If the rest of this planet's nations are similarly advanced, no wonder command has had such difficulties gaining a foothold here."
Colonel Smith sighed. "Too true my boy. Our auspexings certainly underestimated these people's technological capacities."
He peered out the window at the receding battlefield.
"Makes one wonder what other nasty surprises they have in store. All the more reason we must keep our wits and play nice with our captors."
Torchwick gave a wry grin. "Never took you for a model prisoner, sir."
Smith chuckled. "Needs must, old boy. We're well and truly out of our depth on this backwater planet. But the Avenging Son lives up to his name. Our day of liberation will come."
He leaned back confidently. Defeat was always bitter, but adaptability and faith would see them through. As the Emperor wills it.