Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 41
The Ork spaceport on Copan VI bustled with activity. Even at the height of a Waaagh the facility was a frantic nest of busy industry. Greenskins vessels operated in a state of near calamity at the best of times and were liable to fail spectacularly. Not even Ork's belief in their machines could overcome every problem, so the shipyard was constantly in use, fixing, welding, banging, fuelling and sometimes gobbing on bits of metal. Mekboys were everywhere, surrounded by yammering Grots and idle Boyz, who dared each other to jump over fuming smokestacks and laugh at the ones who fell to fiery deaths in vats of bubbling metal.
With the tremendous noise of industry and fuming smog filling the sky it was no surprise that they failed to look to the sky. The first the Greenskins knew of the assault was the wailing of sirens, driven by scraggly Grots turning large handles, and the thunder of anti-aircraft guns opening up. Beady eyes across the facility looked up in confusion as lines of tracers shot into the thick smog cloud, seeking targets that closed unseen. A few seconds later the clouds parted to reveal teardrop-shaped objects hurtling earthwards, fires of reentry marking their sides with soot. They tore groundwards at tremendous velocity, only to brake at the last moment with flaring retro-rockets.
The objects smashed down across the base, knocking over structures and kicking up storms of swarf-laced dust. Many Orks were crushed by debris or lacerated with fillets of metal, but the rest grinned in anticipation. Who had arrived or why mattered nothing to their crude brains, only the instinctive realisation that a fight was at hand. Meaty hands grabbed cleavers and pistols, while Mekboys took up heavy spanners and buzzing arc-welders and a green horde was born. They poured from workshops, they dropped from gantries and rose from stinking effluent pipes. From nooks and crannies Orks surged forth, racing to be the first to shed blood and upon their lips were feral cries of glee and rage.
The drop pods stood in the wreckage of their landing sites, scattered and isolated. They had set down across too broad a front, allowing Orks to surround them. In moments roaring Greenskins encircled the pods, preparing to tear their way inside and massacre anyone they found, only to be cruelly surprised. Explosive bolts slammed ramps open and revealed were not bold Space Marines, but armed missile launchers and assault cannons. Ork jaws dropped at the sight but their surprise was brief, for the missiles let fly with streaks of smoke, sending scores of warheads out in all directions.
Arcane Machine Spirits targeted knots of Orks with Frag missiles, creating spreading clouds of burning shrapnel between tightly packed buildings. Penned in on all sides there was no cover to be found and red-hot razors slit throats, punched into eyes and tore into vital organs, culling robust Ork bodies. Rickety buildings were engulfed by flames as Krak missiles set them alight, spilling volatile fuel and munitions everywhere. Workshops exploded in sequence, torn apart in fiery blooms that spread the inferno far and wide, killing thousands. In wide plazas and the at the foot of landed frigates assault cannons swept crowds of Orks like threshers harvesting grain, mowing down rank after rank of Greenskins and leaving piles of oozing corpses in circles around the pods. Death was everywhere, destruction and calamity ascendant and the sight made Sedaxus smile.
Emerging from the cloud cover came flights of shadowhawks, following in the drop pod's wake. They descended serenely over the devastation, angling to arrive once the initial firestorm had broken the Ork's defences. Standing at an open hatch Sedaxus could see a sea of flame below, growing wider with every second. The smell of burning fuel and metal clogged his nostrils, mixed with the heady tang of roasting meat and boiling blood. Screams reached his ears, pain and frustrated fury in equal measure, signs the Greenskins were suffering. Such moments brought joy to his hearts and he revelled in the death of his foes.
Behind him Xavaar gasped, "I thought the XIXth were all about stealth!"
Sedaxus snorted, "Mostly, but sometimes they really want to make an impression. Falling from on high as furious angels, bringing fire and destruction on shining wings."
"Deathstorm pods!" Damolos laughed from the troop hold, "For when you have to Frak up absolutely every last one of the bastards!"
"Take us down, I want to spill blood today," Sedaxus ordered.
As the gunships scattered Engar muttered, "You know, as leader you're supposed to have an actual plan."
"Bedlam and dismay is the plan," Sedaxus retorted, "I want the Orks to feel this one."
"I love this plan!" Damolos hollered.
As the gunship cruised lower Sedaxus faced the squads within. He'd spread Night Lords and Raven Guard as evenly as he could, making sure each Shadowhawk held at least one of each. They'd been equipped in the new 'Tactical' fashion, each squad bearing a flamer and Heavy Bolter or Missile Launcher. The former Night Lords gripped fresh bolters with wary grips but they knew it was a sign of immense trust that they'd been given any at all. Strapped into cages on one side were Gorth and his squad, even the disgruntled Meske, who seemed less pleased than any at these turns of events. On the other side was Herran, with a fresh augmetic arm. He actually seemed pleased to be here, unwavering in his support of Sedaxus. It would seem bizarre to any not born of Nostramo, but if there was one thing these gutter trash respected it was ruthless strength, blowing off his arm had cemented that Sedaxus was a leader worth following.
Sedaxus faced them and declared, "I'm not much for speeches so I'm only going to say this once: if it moves shoot it, if it bleeds stab it!"
"Sons of the Smoke Jaguar!" Arkqas proclaimed eagerly.
"Still too wordy," Sedaxus growled as he turned and leapt through the open door.
Sedaxus fell six metres and landed amid bleeding Ork corpses. A nearby Deathstorm pod whined a missile launcher about but held fire, the Machine Spirit recognising a friend. The gunship continued to descend, ramp lowering but Sedaxus set to the corpses. The Orks were grievously wounded but Greenskins were notoriously resilient, so he made sure none were going to get back up thanks to swift slashes of his claws. Astartes poured out of the gunship, taking up firing positions around the broad square, then the Shadowhawk lifted off, to start strafing runs over the rest of the base.
"Area secured," Arkqas called as he stabbed a few groaning Orks with an Obsidian Blade.
"What's our target?" Damolos asked.
"Sow confusion and dread," Sedaxus replied, "Make them bleed."
"Might want to rethink that," Xavaar growled, "We've got incoming!"
Sedaxus' head spun about and he saw a wave of Orks barrelling towards the square, choppas held high and crude shootas held ready. But looming over them all was a rattling mass of metal, driving on thick caterpillar tracks with sponson guns spinning about and a blocky turret sitting on high. It was a Leman Russ tank, looted and defiled by Greenskins. Rusty chains hung from its flanks and human heads were stuck on spikes while feral icons were painted on its glacis plate, declarations of power and ferocity. The broad turret lowered and then with a loud blech the cannon fired.
Sedaxus didn't have to give any order to scatter, the squads did so instinctively. No matter their origin all Astartes shared common traits, combat mantras tailored to Transhuman frames dating back to the dawn of the Great Crusade. Faced by overwhelming firepower the Space Marines scattered, evading the targeted point and suffering no more than scorched plates and gouged ceramite from fractured stone.
Sedaxus ducked behind an overturned Trukk and yelled, "Xavaar, tell me you've got something that can stop it!"
"I can entrance their minds with false targets, but they can still fire randomly!" the psyker shouted back as his new staff glimmered with power.
"Do so," Sedaxus ordered, "Watch out, here come the rest!"
The tank's side guns opened up, firing wildly across the plaza. Perhaps Xavaar's spells were working, or it was simply Ork's terrible aim, but all they did was chew up cooling Greenskin bodies. Sadly that did nothing to stop the wave of green coming around its flanks, Orks pouring into the plaza in a river of aggression. They were met with bursts of bolter fire, punching many of them off their feet. Herran in particular found great joy in shooting out their kneecaps, leaving them bleeding and crawling along the ground.
"Forget the knees, go for the heads!" Sedaxus barked from cover.
"But this hurts more!" Herran protested.
"Forget pain, claim kills!" Sedaxus snarled, "They're closing: flamers now!"
From behind piles of bodies arose two Astartes, bearing scorched weapons with bright pilot lights. A squeeze of the triggers saw twin plumes of burning promethium shoot forth, dousing Orks in fire. Skin was set alight and crude leathers burst into flames as burning liquid drenched them in heat and bright conflagration. They screamed and they howled as they fell flailing to the ground, the inferno too much even for Ork bodies to handle.
Sedaxus grinned as he saw the assault blunted but then with a roaring wheeze the tank charged forward. Thick tracks squished dying Orks into paste as it rolled over them, uncaring for the losses it inflicted on its own. Flames caressed its flanks, painting soot high up the sides but doing no damage. The gunners within cheered as they swung heavy bolters about, firing blind but putting out so much damage it hardly mattered. The turret fired blind, shooting a shell into the middle of the square, blowing chunks of ground high to patter down as filthy rain.
Sedaxus snarled in frustration as the tank rolled into the middle of the Astartes, more Orks pouring in its wake, following the gap it had made in the wall of flame. The fight became close and furious and Sedaxus' vision shrank as a pair of Greenskins came at him with large Choppas swinging. His claws swept an arm off the first, then he kicked it back into its comrade to spoil the charge. The pair staggered with comical dismay and he tore the throat out of the second as it stumbled under its comrades' weight. The pair went down and Sedaxus struck with his right hand, the new talons on his fingertips making his hand vibrate as they sought the perfect harmonic resonance. A moment of resistance and then his hand plunged into the chest, punching deep to wrap his digits around a beating heart, then he ripped it from the Greenskin's torso, dripping blood down his arm as he held it aloft.
His triumph was short-lived for the tank rampaged through the melee, threatening to grind Astartes to dust. A missile clanged off its glacis, doing no more than glancing away as the Deathstorm reloaded, but the Tank wasn't going to give it another opening. The driver wheeled about and charged it head on, slamming into the pod at full speed. The tank reared up as the pod toppled over, its flimsy frame imploding as it was crushed into mangled metal. Their fire support was gone but a Raven Guard with a Missile Launcher aimed for the tank, yet before he could fire a trio of Orks pounced, stabbing repeatedly from behind. Sedaxus saw the warrior fall and snarled as he saw their last chance of taking out the tank had vanished, the Orks they could handle, but that tank would grind them to dust.
"Engar!" he Sedaxus shouted, "Cover me, I'm going for the missile launcher!"
"No wait, look!" Engar hollered.
His eyes turned and he beheld a wonder: Damolos, charging through the fray like a grox through a porcelain shop. The broad shield swung wide, battering Orks aside but his buzzing axe left slaughter in his wake. The Transonic head touched flesh and tore it asunder, harmonic destruction unmaking skin and bone with explosive effects. He struck a shoulder and the whole arm blew off, showering blood everywhere. He punched the head into a spine and the Ork flew away, horizontally shorn in two. A bash with the flat of the blade sent an Ork tumbling away as a ball of shattered bones. A vertical strike bisected a snarling Greenskin scalp to groin, blasting two gory sections of Xenos far across the battlefield, leaving trails of blood in a long smear. The bold warrior's charge carried him far and he tore through the milling Orks yelling, "I am Damolos! Hear my name and fear me, for I am doom!"
Sedaxus saw the Orks break off from their individual clashes, instinctively seeking the biggest fight. "Covering fire!" he yelled as he drew his pistol and shot an Ork in the back. A flurry of bolts smote the Orks, mowing them down in droves as Damolos closed on the tank. It ground about, bringing its blazing guns to bear but Damolos was faster. He struck a Sponson with the humming axe and the weapon's roar shifted tone, seeking the perfect frequency to part metal. A moment later his weapon ripped the gun apart, leaving a sheared gash in the flank of the tank. He didn't pause though, continuing to heave his axe along the flank, tearing a massive rent all the way back to the engine block.
The tank shuddered as it was violated, leaving the chugging engine exposed. Sparks flew as the axe tore through, sundering pistons and severing fuel lines. A spurt of crude fuel was ejected from the engine, meeting red-hot metal and catching alight instantly. A fire caught inside the tank, spreading quickly to become a raging bonfire. Fuel lines ruptured in the inferno and a small blaze suddenly became a roaring conflagration, turning the interior into a lethal hellhole. Orks screamed as they roasted alive, then the munitions locker overcooked and the tank blew apart, spraying bits of metal everywhere.
The remaining Orks stopped with their jaws hanging wide, unable to believe their eyes and that was all the Astartes needed to cut them down. In moments the battle ended and Sedaxus breathed out in relief at their close call. Damolos emerged from the flames, Ceramite scoured bare by heat as he cried, "That was fun!"
"Glad you enjoyed it," Sedaxus snorted as he waved the squads to regroup.
Damolos proclaimed as he waved his axe, "None can withstand Giant's Roar!"
"You can name it later," Engar muttered as he stomped past, "We have work to do."
Sedaxus agreed and turned towards the heart of the spaceport. Violence and explosions rang loud as the other squads wreaked havoc and he was eager to join them. They had already lost one Space Marine and their fight had barely begun. If they were to succeed they needed to move faster and hit harder. Filled with murderous intent he led his combined forces on, marching towards the most ferocious fight, determined to carve his name into the heart of the Waaagh.