Chapter-19

Rip and Tear until it's done pt-1

Sjøland, June 5th.

1995

Gert Madsen, like dozens of other Sjølandic Home Guard officers, received the telephone call he had been dreading, though subconsciously expecting to come at any moment, as he was preparing to leave his office in Holstebro on 5th June, 1995. The thirty-five year old Home Guard captain was a barrister in civilian life. He was an associate in a mid-sized firm in Holstebro that dealt mostly with insurance claims. Madsen had joined the Home Guard after his conscription time in the Royal Sjølandic Army ended. He did so out of a sense of obligation to his fellow citizens. It was only fair that he contribute something back to the country that had given him so much. So, on weekends, and select other times of the year, Madsen trained with the Home Guard.

The telephone call was short and curt. Madsen picked up, verified his idenity and was informed by a voice he did not recognize that, "The Van Gogh exhibit at National Gallery opens in three weeks." The code was one of seven that Home Guard officers had to memorize. Each one held its own meaning and was understood by its recipient. For anyone who might have been eavesdropping, the exchange came across as simple mindless chatter. This particular coded message was an instruction Madsen, and other Home Guard officers in the district to meet at the local Home Guard depot that evening at 8 o'clock.

It was approaching 4:30 now. There was enough time to go home, spend some time with his wife and two boys, have dinner and then make it to the depot by the prescribed time.

Madsen had been expecting the phone call ever since the alien invasion. Each passing day since had brought a new deterioration in the crisis, and growing alarm in Western Euronia's nations. In Sjøland, the tension was reserved but still present. Citizens made a concerted effort to go about their regular daily routines and pay little attention to the growing menace to the east or the war taking place around Euronia. Just beneath the surface though, alarm was growing.

When he arrived home, his wife Jane was waiting expectantly. The wife of a fellow Home Guard officer had phoned her with the news about the message going out. Madsen tried his best to calm and reassure her. A phone call and resultant meeting did not quite mean mobilization and imminent war. His wife was not swayed by Madsen's reasoning. She understood what was happening, and this was the moment when the real world violently collided with her own hopes and wishful thinking.

The insulation keeping Jane's mind padded from the foul truth of the international situation was unceremoniously stripped away. She broke down and cried. Gert brought her into the bedroom, away from the kids, and consoled her. He assured her that he would not be packing up and leaving for war that evening, although in reality he could not rule the possibility out. In time, Jane came around, and dinner that evening was not the tense, subdued meal Gert was assuming it would be. Quite the opposite actually.

Madsen arrived at the Holstebro depot a little after 8 PM. The normal Elk's lodge type of atmosphere that normally permeated weeknight meetings like this one was nowhere to be found. Instead, he found an air of quiet determination and concealed anxiousness. The Home Guard depot at Holstebro was larger than its counterparts in other towns across Sjøland. Equipment and supplies for a battle group belonging to the Jutland Division was located nearby. In the event of mobilization, many of the reservists from this district would fill out that formation. Home Guard officers and enlisted personnel were well-versed in what their unit's place would be in the Sjølandic military's order of battle in the event of mobilization. Madsen's own company of 100 troops was specifically trained for and assigned for airbase security.

The senior officer for the district was Colonel Kruse, an affable, soft spoken civil servant in Ringkobing. He had been the senior officer for seven years now and proved himself as a capable officer and leader. He normally spent the pre-meeting minutes socializing with his officers and NCOs. Tonight, that was not the case. Kruse was nowhere to be found, and his absence only amplified the anxious air now permeating the depot. Madsen and his fellow officers speculated in hushed tones about where Kruse might be. Arne Dahl, a short, solidly built lieutenant mentioned that the colonel's car was outside in the parking lot. This only fueled the speculation.

At 8:55PM an NCO directed the twenty-four officers into the briefing conference room. Madsen and the others filed in. He was fortunate enough to find a seat. Many of his fellow officers were forced to stand. Once everyone was settled in, the narrow door at the front of the room swung open and Colonel Kruse strode in. The men rose and snapped to attention but Kruse waved them down. He informed the officers that the first steps towards a national mobilization were about to get underway. The government in Norhagen was determined to ensure that Sjøland was prepared to fulfill its OFN commitments and meet its own national defense needs. All active duty military personnel would be recalled to their bases, and leaves cancelled at midnight. The next morning at 6 AM, all Home Guard personnel would be ordered to their depots and mobilization was to begin officially at 12 noon on 5 June.

Kruse informed his officers they would be given the assignment and orders for their respective units before leaving for the night. He, and a pair of active duty officers who'd arrived during the meeting handled this matter after the meeting ended. An Army major briefed Madsen when it was his turn.

"Madsen," he began. "Your company is trained for air base security and defense, correct? Good. You will be assigned to Karup to augment base security there. When your men are gathered here tomorrow, equipment will be issued. Trucks will arrive shortly thereafter to transport you to Karup."

In the blink of an eye, Sjøland, and Madsen's transformations from peacetime to war had kicked into overdrive.

Adeptus Mechanicus Facility.

Planetside Nova Arcadia

Archmagos Delphias Decerio raised his last fully biological eyebrow. They were late. This new facility's security detail was late. High Marshal Helbrecht himself was coming here to bolster the new facilities security. He looked to his right. Ah yes, his "Science Project", a callidus assassin, she stood ramrod straight in her full black bodyglove, hair done in the signature braid/ponytail. She was not with the Officio Assasinorum, she was his. Finally, the sound of Stormraven engines was heard.

"Better Late than never" he grunted as he watched impatiently as the Stormraven gunships finally descended towards the landing pad. Helbrecht's Black Templars were cutting their arrival close, but considering the vital importance of this facility, any delay was unacceptable.

The gunships touched down, disembarking squads of power armored Astartes. At their head strode High Marshal Helbrecht, resplendent in his black crusader armor. His stern gaze swept the assembled Tech-priests and Skitarii before settling on Decerio.

"Greetings, Archmagos. We have come to secure this facility against further rebel attacks."

Decerio inclined his head. "Welcome, High Marshal. Your timing is most fortuitous. This facility's research is imperative to the Imperium."

He glanced sidelong at the Callidus assassin standing motionless nearby. The Templars shifted uneasily at the sight of her, well aware of the Officio Assassinorum's shadowy reputation.

"Come, let me show you our defenses." Decerio led Helbrecht inside, the assassin trailing noiselessly behind them. The facility was built into the side of a great mesa, with multiple buried levels. He highlighted various choke points and weapon emplacements.

"As you can see, the location provides natural fortification. Enemy armor will find approach difficult. Combined with your Astartes, we should be adequately protected."

Helbrecht studied a heavy bolter nest. "Against normal rebel mobs, perhaps. But these foes have proven resourceful." He turned to face Decerio fully. "What is it you research here that warrants such security?"

Decerio's mechadendrites twitched. "Experimental weaponry and other technologies. Things not meant for...unenlightened minds."

The Templar's eyes narrowed, but he didn't press the matter. "Nonetheless, we will defend this facility with our lives if need be. No enemy shall set foot here while we stand."

Decerio bowed his head gratefully. "That is most reassuring. With the Emperor's finest warriors defending us, our work may continue uninterrupted."

Together they peered out at the verdant valley surrounding the mesa. Somewhere out there, rebel forces were surely plotting their next move. Let them come, Decerio thought coldly. They would find only bolters and chainswords awaiting them.

Unknown room.

Viktor Friedmann awoke, tied up to what looked like a surgical table. The last thing he remembered was that bar fight in the small Padarian village. Then there were explosions and then darkness. He looked to his right hand, his glove was still there, good. Looking to his left, he saw the 3 red stars, natural birthmarks that signified his status as a bioresonant.

Someone special, the Ulraznavian remembered the classes at school where bioresonants had en extra class after school, teaching them basic power uses. He looked up to see a group of strange red robed robot priests who were chittering away in some form of binary code. They did not seem to notice him, so he whispered to his glove. "OB!", silence prevailed.

"OB" he whispered again, nada.

"Ouroboros" his voice caused one of the red robed things to stare at him, chittering before turning back.

"I am right here" the ai said from the glove. Viktor gave a sigh of relief.

"Can you unlock the manacles?" he asked quietly.

"Already done." OB muttered.

He silently stood up and crept to the three robed things.

"Access language" he checked if he could still access his bioresonance power. It was an affirmative.

"Patched it through."

Techpriest Alpha-14

"Is the subject ready for servitor surgery?" Techpriest Alpha-13 asked his fellow two techpriests.

"Yes…Lobotomization process is prepared."

Alpha-13 suddenly had the feeling someone was tapping him. Turning his head, to his shock he found the subject standing behind them. Had Alpha-13 any remaining mouth, he was certainly be shocked, however nothing prepared him for the next shock.

Viktor Friedmann

Viktor sized up the three red-robed mechanoids facing him. Even without his powers, he was confident he could take them.

"Alright robo-men, let's not get ugly here," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Just point me to the exit and we'll call it square."

The lead mechanoid chittered something in its bizarre binary language. Viktor subtly activated the translation software, parsing the meaning.

[Sacrilege! The subject must be lobotomized for the glory of the Omnissiah!]

"Yeah that ain't happening, scrapheap," Viktor snorted. "Last chance to make this easy on yourselves."

The mechanoids advanced, wicked looking implements extending from their arms. Viktor shrugged. "Hard way it is then."

He ducked the first swiping claw arm, driving a heavy fist into the mech's torso. Something crunched and the robed figure staggered back. The second swung an arc welding tool at Viktor's head, but his glove projected a shield to block it.

"C'mon, I'm just getting warmed up!" Viktor taunted, slamming the mech against the wall. The third lunged with pincers but met a bioresonant pulse that fried its motor functions. It collapsed, limbs twitching.

Soon all three lay in sparking, groaning piles about the lab. Viktor dusted off his hands, grinning.

"And that's how we deal with shit in Ulraznavia," he quipped. "Might wanna update your combat protocols, toasters."

His grin faded as proximity alarms began blaring throughout the complex. Somehow his scuffle had tripped sensors. Time to beat feet.

Activating the x-ray overlay in his glove, Viktor mapped a route out through the maze-like facility. Now he just needed to slip past whatever other horrors this place held.

"Hang on OB, we're getting out of this freakshow," he muttered, entering the twisting corridors. Eerie lights and strange figures lurked ahead, but freedom beckoned. Time to see how weird these backrooms really were.

Central Control Room.

The alarms began to blare, Archmagos Delphias looked at his panel, it seemed someone had escaped the servitor surgery rooms. His mechanical limbs hummed with agitation as he processed the breach of security protocols. The intruder had managed to escape from the servitor surgery rooms. This was an unprecedented breach, and Delphias knew that it posed a significant threat to the secrecy and integrity of their research.

"Deploy all available Skitarii to Sector 7-B," he ordered, his mechanical voice carrying a note of urgency. "We cannot allow any breach of security in this facility. Notify High Marshal Helbrecht and inform him of the situation."

He immediately initiated lockdown procedures, sealing off various sections of the facility to prevent the intruder from gaining access to critical areas. The callidus assassin, who had been standing silently nearby, moved with eerie grace to a nearby console, her lithe fingers dancing across the keys as she worked to contain the breach.

"High Marshal Helbrecht," Delphias called out to the Black Templar leader, "We have a security breach. An intruder has escaped servitor surgery. It is imperative that we apprehend this individual before they compromise our research and operations here."

Helbrecht nodded solemnly, his warplate gleaming with righteous fury. "We shall hunt down this intruder and ensure that no harm befalls this facility. Our chapter will secure the perimeter."

Delphias, Helbrecht, and a squad of Black Templars moved out of the central control room, leaving the callidus assassin behind to continue her efforts to contain the situation. The alarms continued to wail, a constant reminder of the intruder's presence.

As they navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the facility, Delphias couldn't help but wonder who this intruder was and how they had managed to evade the facility's security systems. It was a troubling breach, and the Archmagos was determined to get to the bottom of it.

In the dimly lit hallways, they encountered strange, shadowy figures that seemed to be the facility's caretakers and servitors. Delphias was acutely aware that the intruder could be lurking in any corner, and the tension in the air was palpable. The Black Templars moved with grim determination, their bolters at the ready.

The hunt was on, and the fate of the facility and its secretive research hung in the balance. As they pressed deeper into the facility, Delphias couldn't help but feel a growing sense of unease. The intruder, whoever they were, had already proven to be a formidable adversary, and the outcome of this confrontation remained uncertain.

Viktor Friedmann

Viktor grabbed the strange weapon from the rack , it looked like a sword and a chainsaw had a baby and it looked like Jason Vorhees's dream weapon. He flexed and parried it experimentally. He hefted the "chainsword", its weight feeling strangely familiar in his hands. The weapon was unlike anything he'd ever seen, a terrifying fusion of technology and brutality. As he flexed his grip and swung it experimentally through the air, the chainsaw teeth roared to life with a deafening mechanical growl.

The echoing noise reverberated through the metallic corridors, a stark reminder of the hostile environment he now found himself in. Armed with this bizarre yet powerful weapon, Viktor was determined to carve his path to freedom through this nightmarish facility.

As he moved deeper into the complex, eerie lights flickered overhead, casting unsettling shadows on the walls. The strange figures lurking ahead seemed to be constructs of both flesh and machine, like twisted amalgamations of man and technology. Viktor couldn't help but shudder at the grotesque sight, but he pressed forward.

"OB, analyze the armor of those big giants"

"Analyzing, give me a second" OB quipped, after a few seconds, the ai spoke again, "Vik, find an upgrade machine or something please, and connect me to it."

Viktor nodded, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of an upgrade machine. Just as he was about to give up hope, he spotted a strange console jutting out from the wall. There was no telling what it was for, but it was worth a try. Viktor jogged over, chainsword at the ready.

As he approached the console, he noticed that there was a small port at the base of the terminal. It looked like it was designed to accept some kind of data spike.

"OB, can you interface with this thing?" he asked, holding up the spike.

"Of course, Vik," the AI replied. "Just plug me in and let me do my thing."

Viktor nodded and inserted the spike into the port. Instantly, the console sprang to life, humming with energy. A holographic display flickered into existence, displaying a series of options in an unfamiliar language.

"OB, what am I looking at here?" Viktor asked,

"I ah well upgraded your weapon, it should be able to cut through the armor of those black giants now," OB said, a hint of pride in his voice.

Viktor grinned, feeling a surge of confidence. With the upgraded chainsword in hand, he charged forward to face the grotesque constructs ahead. The first one charged at him, its heavy armor plates glinting in the dim light. Viktor swung the chainsword with all his might, the teeth biting into the metal with a sickening crunch. Sparks flew as he tore through the armor, sending the construct stumbling back with a gurgling cry.

More of the constructs surged forward, but Viktor was ready. He spun the chainsword in a deadly arc, slicing through metal and flesh with ease. The air was filled with the sound of roaring chainsaws and the sickening squelch of metal meeting meat as Viktor carved a path through the constructs. As he battled his way deeper into the complex, Viktor couldn't help but wonder what kind of horrors lay ahead. He had faced his fair share of danger in his lifetime.

Battle Brother Adolphus

Black Templars Chapter.

Adolphus heard the intruder, and the sounds of battle nd it sounded like...a psyker!

Turning the corner, he and his squad found the intruder, a black haired young man, wearing grey coveralls. His eyes glowed gold and black, a psyker alright, and the glove on his hand crackled with electricity, worst of all he had a chainsword covered in blood. Around him were the remains of the skitarii squad.

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" the thing spoke in fluent Low Gothic, which was impossible! The natives of this planet didn't speak it at all

He quickly keyed in High Marshal Helbrecht, a class Omega Extremis psyker.

"Psyker," the boy said casually, "Whatever that is, I am not it. I'm a bioresonant"

It was brother Lukan who charged. To the horror of the squad, they watched as the boy's chainsword cut through ceramite like butter, Impossible.

"Guess we're playing Hardball then" he quickly put on two strange devices in his ears, "OB, hit the music, lets dance!"

And with that boy charged.

Viktor Friedmann

Friedmann charged, his eyes already calculating the mental algebra, he activated his glove's time crysis ability. He felt a surge of energy as he triggered his glove's time crisis ability. The world seemed to slow to a crawl around him as his own reflexes and cognition accelerated to impossible speeds.

The lumbering armored figures charging him now moved as if wading through molasses. Viktor almost felt bad for the poor bastards - they had no idea the can of whoop-ass about to be unleashed on them.

He darted forward, revving his enhanced chainsword. The first giant managed to get its massive gun halfway up before Viktor severed its arm in a spray of ceramite shards and sparks. Before it could even register the blow, his sword was buried deep in the vulnerable joint between helm and breastplate.

Two down in the blink of an eye. Viktor yanked the churning blade free, flecks of gore and oil splashing across his face. He hardly noticed, already moving on to the next target.

This one actually managed to squeeze off a burst from its big gun before the roaring teeth of Viktor's chainsword chewed through its torso. Viktor finished it with a bioresonant pulse that crumpled the armored form like a tin can.

In mere seconds, the entire squad lay in pieces around him. Viktor flicked globs of oil from his blade, smoothly sidestepping the last giant's slowing wreckage as it toppled past him.

"Come on boys, gotta be faster than that," he quipped, disabling the time crisis system. Time lurched back to normal speed, the din of his chainsword once more deafening in the cramped passageway.

Viktor didn't spare the dismembered bodies another glance. He just hoped their commander put up a better fight. Clicking his sword's throttle to max, he sprinted on into the darkened corridors. The chase was just getting started.

Battle Brother Adolphus.

Adolphus watched that boy cut through everyone, even him. How that boy wasn't a follower of Khorne yet was beyond him. With his last strength, he keyed in his comm bead, to High Marshall Helbrecht, there was an Omega Extremis Psyker. He struggled to cling to life, his rent power armor leaking vital fluids. That cursed boy had cut through his brothers with preternatural speed and skill, wielding corrupted warp-energies unlike anything Adolphus had witnessed before.

Yet strangely, the boy seemed untainted, showing no signs of the Chaos influence that invariably warped psykers. He moved with confidence and poise, not crazed fury. How he had avoided damnation was a mystery.

With a trembling hand, Adolphus activated his vox-link. "High Marshal...the intruder is an Omega-level psyker...he had slaughtered my squad..." he gasped into the link.

Static crackled back. "An uncorrupted psyker? Impossible!" Helbrecht's voice responded. "Contain him at all costs!"

Adolphus coughed, tasting blood. "He wields strange technologies...and moves faster than should be possible. Emperor protect you, High Marshal..."

His vox cut out as he finally succumbed to his wounds. But not before puzzling one last time over the smiling boy who had scythed through Terminator armor like parchment. What was he? No mere psyker could be so powerful, and yet remain free of the warp's taint.

A mystery that would now fall to Helbrecht to solve...assuming the boy did not claim him too. With a last whispered prayer to the Emperor, Adolphus expired, his lifeblood pooling across the cold floor. The rest was in His hands now...

Viktor Friedmann

He silently took a deep breath, "OB, what's going on in the world?"

"Invasion, VIk. All 7 continents and all nations are under attack"

Viktor had just saved a few Padarians on holiday who were going to be experimented on, "saia daqui" he ordered, they nodded. one of them, a Sgt off duty had thrown him a few fusion charges before disappearing with the group. "OB, I think we won't leave just yet"

He secured the fusion charge to the support column, fusing it in place with a quick pulse from his glove. He took a few steps back to admire his handiwork.

"Alright OB, let's light this place up," he said with a grin.

The AI sighed in his earpiece. "Must we really stay here and cause more chaos? I thought we were making our daring escape."

Viktor shrugged, priming the detonator. "What can I say, I'm a sucker for explosions. Besides, these freakshows have it coming."

He checked the remaining charges on his belt. "I figure we got enough boom-boom here to level a good chunk of this mad science lab. Be a shame to waste it."

OB made a disapproving click. "Your propensity for wanton destruction concerns me sometimes. But very well, let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit!" Viktor laughed. He took cover around a corner and hit the detonator.

A thunderous blast shook the corridor as the fusion charge exploded. Alarms began wailing immediately. Viktor whooped at the rising smoke plume.

"Oh yeah, now we're talking! Up for some redecorating, OB?"

The AI sighed again. "If we must. Try not to completely cave the whole facility in on us please."

Grinning wildly, Viktor sprinted down the hall towards the next target. Tonight was just getting started. He almost felt bad for whoever had to clean up this mess later. Almost.

Central Control Room

Archmagos Delphias Decerio was emotionless as he watched the vid feeds from the cameras. He was emotionless as the skitarii squads were eliminated, he was emotionless as the thing hacked and upgraded its weapon (A chainsword, most intriguing how he was able to upgrade an Imperial Weapon), he was emotionless as he used his queer abilities and cut through the Black Templars, and he was emotionless as he freed his fellow natives from Sector C VIII.

"Lord Magos...should we contact the fleet?" a techpriest asked.

"No...these are acceptable parameters"

"M..My lord magos?"

Decerio moved over to a panel, "Never has something piqued my intreast since my Callidus experiment. What is a bioresonant? It certainly isn't a psyker yet tha abilities are similar, and how he was able to use that glove of his to translate our Gothic" he supressed a sigh when he realized the techpriest didn't understand.

The techpriest shifted nervously as Archmagos Decerio studied the footage impassively. The intruder was rampaging through the lower levels, inflicting untold damage, yet Decerio seemed unconcerned.

"But, Master...should we not stop him before he destroys something vital?" the priest ventured.

Decerio turned, his optic lenses flickering. "Your anxiety is illogical. This is merely an...experiment in progress."

He gestured to the screens where the boy was attaching more explosives. "I am interested to see the extent of his abilities. And how our defenses stand up to them."

The priest wrung his mechadendrites in distress. "Even so, my lord! He is killing our servants, ruining equipment-"

"Easily replaced," Decerio cut him off, tone razor sharp. "You fail to see the larger analysis unfolding here. I expected more perceptive insight from Mars."

The techpriest fell silent, properly chastised.

"Observe. Gather data. Learn," Decerio intoned. "Through empirical study, all may be understood eventually."

He watched impassively as a fresh wave of Skitarii were shredded by the roaring chainsword. The boy fought like a dervish, untouchable.

"Fascinating..." Decerio mused. "Send another batch of custodians to Sector 12 and monitor the outcome closely."

The techpriest hesitated only a moment before complying. More martyrs to science then.

Satisfied, Decerio returned to studying his prize specimen. He suspected only the vaunted Astartes had a chance of stopping the rampage. Failure was acceptable, even preferred - it would push the subject to exhibit his full potential.

All in the name of insight. The Omnissiah's will cared not for individual components, only the whole.

Undisclosed Location, Ulraznavia.

ACCESSING…

AGENT V FRIDMANN FOUND

STATUS-AlIVE

ACTIVATION CODE REQUIRED…

June 5th, 1995.

Day-4 of WW3.

West Vostokvakian Front FHQ

Colonel Aralov entered the operations room. Immediately, he became aware of the differences between himself, and the other officers there. His uniform was dirty and ripped. A thin smudge of black remained on his left cheek, either grease from a vehicle or soil from the ground. He did not know which and it was meaningless to speculate in any case. The staff officers around him wore clean, starched uniforms. Despite the similarities in rank, he could sense the anger directed at his intrusion. The front headquarters was an orderly, calm place. Lightyears away from what was taking place on the frontlines. They regarded Aralov as a visitor from an unwelcome world.

Walking forward, he accidentally bumped into Generals Beregovoy, and Pavel Leonidvich Alekseyev, the deputy commander of the Southern Front. With them was also Colonel-General Mikhail Kovalyov. The generals apologized profusely, Aralov shrugged it off, these 3 had earned his respect. He continued on to the offices.

General Snetkova looked up from a digital tabletop map. She motioned her aide towards her office.

"You look like a pauper," Snetkova commented with a slight smirk once the door was closed. She pointed to an empty metal chair. "Tell me how the attack went."

"Opposition was stronger than expected. Invaders reinforced at some point and we were not made aware of it! Enemy tanks are there now, but not in great numbers. I estimate a battalion at most. That will change soon, however. One of their formations, a brigade fought ferociously but took severe losses. They've been weakened severely, even with the new reinforcements. Unfortunately," Aralov sighed. "The same holds true for our motor rifle troops. If 3rd Shock's commander moves fast enough, we can break through the lines and race through to Pavlovski and beyond."

"Don't count on that," Snetkova grunted. "After you left, the invaders launched a counterattack against the 55th Guards west of Solovets."

"The colonel in command of that tank regiment is a very capable officer. I've seen him in action. He came close to tearing a hole in the lines. Even with their counterattack, if we move fast we can exploit the situation. I recommend moving a regiment from 10th Guards forward immediately."

"Operational Maneuver Groups are not to move without the theater commander's permission. Who, in turn, must get his own permission from Moskvingrad, which as off now the government is officially giving orders from the President's plane."

Aralov's eyes widened in amazement–or was it disgust? "That was not a joke."

"You know how the chain of command works," the front commander reminded him.

Snetkova's mind went back to the general campaign plan. Staff members back in Moskvingrad had looked at the maps, analyzed the data and figures, and drew the conclusion that Pavlovski would be recaptured in the first twenty-four hours of hostilities, mere minutes before the cities fall 2 days ago. This prediction had been off by a wide margin! She reflected sourly. The resistance of the invaders was on a level surpassing even what she had expected. One factor that had not been carefully considered was that the invaders came from a religious and theocratic state. This made them more dangerous enemies. In time, this stubbornness would be turned against them as their staunch defenses cost them large numbers of irreplaceable men and material.

"Comrade General, the initial attack would have succeeded with the proper amount of preparation and support.

Snetkova considered this observation in silence for two full minutes. "Very well," she spoke finally. "I will contact Marshal Boukharin soon and request he release 3rd Shock's OMG to me. Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Mikhail Alexsandrovich?"

The younger officer took a drink from his large canteen. "You need to sit your air commanders down and find out why we do not control the skies." Aralov told her of the devastating air attack on the self-propelled artillery emplacements. "Four planes! In less than a minute two dozen guns and over a hundred men were gone."

"Mother of God!" Snetkova was horrified. And outraged. "CINC-West can wait. Have the communications officer contact 16th Air Army's commander at once. I want him here in ninety minutes."

The Mechanicus Facility arc is the only true curbstomp of this story, where the Bioresonant character will escape, leaving a bloody trail behind. I might ask someone to make a Tv Tropes page sometime later.

Stay tuned for more updates.

BGAce