Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 2
Farjness was consumed by war, the streets and manufactorums filled with violence. Kendar may be dead but his cultist followers lost none of their fanatical bloodlust or tactical skill. They launched a campaign of destruction, bringing overwhelming force to bear against any district of the city that resisted. Militia freedom fighters met them with ambushes and swift redeployments, hitting hard and withdrawing into the maze of streets and alleyways that infested the urban blight. They had been trained to be invisible and they knew the ground well, though outnumbered they made the Traitor cultists fight for every inch of ground.
In this mad carnage civilian casualties were an afterthought. Families hid in basements or under tables, cowering in fear of a stray round killing them all before they knew what was happening. Millions of people had lived under the jackboot of Kendar for years, any hint of dissent provoking terrible retribution. The people had learned not to speak out, not to risk showing any defiance, no matter how much their hearts burned for revenge. So they hid and waited, letting cruel chance rule their lives.
Among this carnage Transhuman giants strode like warrior gods of old. Sea-green warriors fighting shadowy killers in all quarters. The Sons of Horus had lost their lord but their skill in warfare made it irrelevant. They attacked and coordinated a ruthless campaign of extermination, revealing the skills that had once made the XVIth supreme among all Legions. The Raven Guard however fought for revenge, their souls burning for the blood of Traitors, they laid into the foe with all their fury and cunning, bold in one moment, slyly withdrawing the next. They were matching the Traitor's kill counts, but the Sons of Horus had thrice their numbers and the battle was slowly turning against them.
Sedaxus was keenly aware of this as he fretted behind a nondescript door. The foursome were lurking in a dank alley, three of them keeping guard while Engar fiddled with the lock. The Hab-block was identical to a thousand others, dilapidated and stinking but its strategic location made it essential, or so Nolaro insisted.
Sedaxus chewed on his lip a moment then spat, "Blood in the spit, just kick it in."
"Patience," Engar muttered as he crossed two wires, "Almost there."
"The war will be lost before you open that door," Sedaxus hissed, "If it hasn't escaped your notice, we're losing."
"If you keep yammering you'll draw every Traitor down upon us," Nolaro spat, "We couldn't break the Traitors by frontal assault, we knew that going in. Stealth is the key, you should have learned that by now."
Sedaxus rolled his eyes and kneaded his pistol's grip as he muttered, "Why are you still carrying Kendar's head?"
"I need it to win this war," Nolaro stated.
"You think seeing their leader's rotting head will break them," Sedaxus snorted, "Dream on, the Sons of Horus are twisted freaks, but they are no cowards."
"It's not for them," Nolaro countered.
"Then why keep it?"
"I aim to unlock a secret weapon," Nolaro replied, "One you wouldn't understand."
Sedaxus was about to press the matter but Engar's hands shifted and the door clanked open. Engar leaned back with a satisfied air and seemed about to break into a smug refrain, but the door swung wide and revealed a dozen Traitor cultists waiting beyond. Shock rang loud as both sides stared at each other, neither expecting to find opposition here. The cultist's guns were slackly pointed downwards, more than enough for the Astartes to end them but before Sedaxus could pull the trigger there was a blur as Damolos charged past.
"Raaagh!" Damolos roared as he slammed his shield into the first man, shattering every bone in the body. He threw the corpse into the next two, sending them toppling over as his battered chainaxe swung wide and tore open the guts of another. The cultists rallied swiftly, lifting bayonets and closing in but Damolos met them head-on, smashing bodily into the men and breaking them with sheer bulk. His boots shattered knees and hips, his axe opened bellies and his storm shield crushed ribcages as he yelled, "Think you can take me, think again!"
Sedaxus extended his claws and went to join the fight but Nolaro stopped him with a hand to the chest and a curt, "Don't interrupt him."
From beyond the doorway Damolos was roaring, "What's that, trying to stab me in the back?! Ha, see how you like it!"
"He's making a total mess of it," Sedaxus pointed out.
"He's doing his job," Nolaro dimissed.
"Let's see you try doing that without a head!" Damolos yelled.
Sedaxus sighed, "Then he better be quick about it."
"Trying to run?!" Damolos hollered, "Oh no, this fight isn't over until I say it's over!"
Sedaxus leaned back and in moments the cultists were dead, dismembered bits painting the walls red. Damolos stood amid the slaughter, dripping with viscera but seemingly self-satisfied as he rested his axe on his shoulder and scoffed, "That was easy."
"So much for stealth," Sedaxus retorted as he stepped within.
Damolos snorted, "Nobody can report your position, if you don't leave anyone alive to report it."
Nolaro moved past, ignoring the slaughter as he waved Engar forward and said, "This is the place, take the position. Quickly, they must have heard something."
Engar unshouldered his sniper rifle and slid it into a lintel as he said, "Send the signal."
Sedaxus leaned on a window frame and peered out. This hab block overlooked their target, a bulky facility replete with towering vox-arrays and communication dishes, surrounded by a high Ferrocrete wall and guards with heavy weapons in corner towers. A primary broadcast facility for the late Warmaster Kendar. Sedaxus has no idea why Nolaro wanted it, but this was their objective. Sedaxus had said he could take it alone, given a day to work, he had been a Legion Moritat once, but as usual the Raven Guard had to go and overthink things.
Engar sighted down his rifle as a deep growl echoed up the street. Sedaxus saw the guards in the towers start and swing their weapons to bear, but a soft cough from Engar's rifle proclaimed the death of the nearest.
A moment later a bulky cargo-8 raced into view, tearing out of a side street and driving straight at the gate in the wall. It was wallowing as if heavily laden but accelerated hard, the driver plunging headlong at the barrier. Guards started yelling and bringing their guns to point at the truck, but Engar's rifle coughed once, twice, thrice, each shot terminating a gunner with silent skill. The Cargo-8 roared down the road, beyond any possibility of braking in time. Small arms fire pinged off the glassic window but it was too little, too late. The truck slammed home with a boom, that was consumed as the demolition charges packed into the rear section went off.
Sedaxus felt his teeth rattle with overpressure and the hab spilled dust upon his head as its foundations quivered. It lasted a moment but then he leaned out and saw a flaming pit, where once a gate had been. The wall was breached and dead guards lay everywhere, charred bits of men strewn far and wide. Sirens wailed but confusion was total and the defenders stunned, leaving them open to a second strike.
Three more Cargo-8's rolled into view but the Space Marines were already in motion, leaping out the windows and charging to the flaming pit. Sedaxus, Damolos and Nolaro, charged headlong into danger. Engar had vanished, as usual, disappearing into mist though Sedaxus was sure he was nearby and keeping an eye on things. The trio threw themselves into the hole and Sedaxus found burned guards staggering about. His flesh was seared black and wept constantly, he was dying on his feet but the Night Lord took no chances and rammed twin blades into the heart, killing him instantly. Nolaro drew his power knife and started putting down weeping survivors while Damolos' chain axe made short work of any who yet stood.
Sedaxus pressed on and found a trio of guards cowering behind a fallen statue. They saw him coming and lifted their lasrifles but went still as he loomed over them. He let them look upon his plate, the feral markings and jagged totems, the feline faceplate and the dripping claws upon his wrist. Sheer terror gripped tight and the men froze for an instant, more than enough time for Sedaxus to rip out their throats and leave them flopping upon the ground.
"Show off," Damolos snapped as he strode past, chainaxe dripping.
"Your Legion never appreciated the power of fear," Sedaxus retorted.
"Pah, fear's for craven sops, I prefer a good axe any day."
"We know," Sedaxus sighed, "We all know. "
"What can I say, I love my duty and I don't care who knows it," Damolos laughed.
Their baiting was cut short as Engar appeared at Sedaxus' shoulder and said, "Come on, the adepts are entering the building."
"Don't do that!" Sedaxus snapped in annoyance at the abrupt reappearance but followed anyway.
Led by Nolaro bands of freedom fighters disembarked the Cargo-8s, making a hasty beeline for the door. These were unlike the ragged militia fighting across the city, skilled artisans and adepts, hand-picked for their machine lore. Nolaro had a purpose he refused to divulge, but these men were key and they had to reach the control room without loss. So the foursome escorted them inside. Sedaxus expected heavy resistance but to his surprise the building was almost deserted, merely a few weeping clerks and Traitorous scriptwriters, burning the midnight oil. Sedaxus put them down with swift thrusts of his claws, mere functional kills of no merit, barely worth his time.
Swiftly the party made its way to the central studio, where they found arrays of pict-lens surrounding stages and plinths. From here the propaganda machine of Kendar had worked, broadcasting his name into every home, workplace and transit hub on the planet. Kendar had loved his own face and made sure his image could be projected to every corner of his fetid empire, making sure no man could avoid seeing their lord's likeness and knowing his eye was upon them.
The adepts hastened to various panels and lecterns, taking control of the cameras and audio-thieves with familiar hands. Others ran to the control booths and comm-uplinks, seizing them for the rebellion. Their tones sounded promising and Sedaxus was confident they had control of the vox-waves, but what exactly was Nolaro planning to do with them, he wondered.
Sedaxus turned to him and pressed, "So we're here, care to tell me why?"
Nolaro doffed his helm one-handed and replied, "Tell me, what is the goal of any army?"
"Do we have time for this?" Sedaxus muttered.
"Humour me."
"Very well: to win."
"Half-right," Nolaro corrected, "The goal of any army is to eliminate your rival's ability to wage war. There are many ways to do this, the XIIIth think it's a matter of logistics and infrastructure, the Vth speed and surprise, the Iron Xth a numbers game. But the XIXth and VIIIth shared an understanding that battles are fought not only in the field but in the heart and mind."
"So?" Sedaxus retorted.
"So, from the start I knew we couldn't reclaim this planet conventionally, we'd have to get the people to help us."
"The people?" Sedaxus scoffed, "You dream, they're broken, Kendar stomped the courage out of them. If you're counting on the unwashed masses rising up to aid us then you're a bigger fool than I gave you credit for."
Nolaro shook his head and chided, "Do you know what the Night Lords' problem is?"
"If you want me to draw up a list we'll be here all week," Sedaxus snorted.
Nolaro snapped, "You understood the will of a people is the key to victory, but failed to grasp there are two weapons to employ. Fear…"
Sedaxus was lost and said, "Fear and…" Yet Nolaro didn't answer, instead stepping onto the stage. Floodlights painted him head to toe as pict-lens whirred and focused, stealing his image as audio-thieves waited for his words. Whispers in the background told that the projection was going out live, sent into every corner of the planet, whatever Nolaro had to say, everyone was about to hear it.
He drew in a breath and declared, "This is Commander Nolaro, speaking with the authority of the Emperor himself, who can no longer stand idle while one of his finest worlds languishes under the boots of tyrants. I speak for the millions crushed under the yoke of oppression: your friends, your sons and daughters, who cry out for justice. And on behalf of all who died under this cruel regime, with no one else to speak for them. By command of the Emperor, I am here to liberate your world and bring it back into the light of His Imperium. Towards this end, I today have slain the hated tyrant Kendar!"
Nolaro flourished the decapitated head, still with the bullet hole drilled straight through it. The gathered adepts gasped in disbelief but Nolaro continued, "This very night your neighbours and friends have risen up against the Traitors that torment you, fighting to liberate Farjness. I call upon you to join them, wherever you are, in whatever city you reside, to take up arms and stand with us. I know many of you have dreamed of fighting, but have been held back by fear. The traitors want you to be afraid, they want you to think you are alone and have no strength to resist, but I tell you it is they who are weak: they are few and we are many! The XIXth Legion has drawn the Traitors out and pinned them in battle, Kendar is dead, the hour to act is at hand! We call upon you to rise and up and drive the Traitors from your world forever. For Farjness, for the lost, for your families, join us and reclaim your lives!"
With that the lights faded, and Nolaro stepped down. Sedaxus however was not looking at him, eyes fixed on the militia. They stood prouder than he had ever seen any mortal, their eyes glimmering with an odd expression that he didn't recognise. It wasn't fear, he knew fear, this was something else, something he didn't understand. These lowly men stood like veteran soldiers, each ready to fight and die upon command.
As Nolaro dropped Kendar's head and moved off the stage Sedaxus hissed, "Is this your secret weapon?"
Nolaro nodded as he said, "The most powerful instrument of war ever known, greater than guns, greater than planes and tanks and bombs, greater than fear. A weapon the VIIIth never suspected exists."
Sedaxus glanced at the mortals and asked bewildered, "What is it?"
Nolaro replied simply, "Hope."