"I am acting planetary governor Grimald," the man in the hololith said. He had the look of a scribe, and didn't sound very confident. "Formerly minister of agriculture and fisheries."
"Agriculture," Solon said flatly.
"Three percent of Astor V's food intake is produced on planet," Grimald said defensively. "Mostly algae farms and deep-sea fishing. It's a full ministry."
"And twenty-eighth in the line of succession," Malachi noted. "Although expected to only act as a caretaker until a full election can be held." Minerva wondered if he'd been preparing to go down the line looking for loyalists before the Great Rift opened.
She'd looked into Astor V's laws as part of her planning, although mostly out of thoroughness. They were one of the planets that thought the general populace had something valuable to contribute to decision-making, and all their ministers were directly elected, although only the nobility were eligible candidates. The position of planetary governor was for life, while lower ministries were on a five-year cycle. She doubted agriculture was one of the more sought-after positions, which could be good or bad news.
"Yes," Grimald said. "The traitors launched assassination attempts on all members of the line of succession several hours prior to the warp phenomenon appearing. Fortunately, they underestimated my Fishing Inspectorate bodyguard. A common failing, I've found. They only sent three assassins to fight four inspectors."
"Several hours before?" Malachi asked curiously. "Not simultaneous with it?"
"Yes, at 0900 hours," Grimald said "All of them occurred at the same time. The minister of transportation and minister of trade survived the attacks, but after the warp phenomenon, we lost contact with them. I'm the only successor left." He coughed. "I'm afraid adding more successors would require at least legislative confirmation, by more legislators than are alive and loyal."
"So we're stuck with you," Brant said.
"Unless you declare martial law, yes," Grimald said apologetically. "Under the circumstances, I'd hardly protest."
"Unfortunately," Solon said, "Declaring full martial law means we have to take charge of civilian decision-making. On a planet of this size, that would be a considerable strain on our attention. I'm afraid we'll need you to handle that." Grimald sighed at that.
"What is the food situation?" Minerva asked Grimald. Medea had advised her to ask that question, which she'd normally leave to the mortals to work out. Given his former role, though, the answer would tell her a lot about his competence.
"We have forty-seven days left at current ration levels," Grimald said flatly. "That's including supplementing with corpse starch and the remaining fishing fleet. I imposed rationing and removed catch limits as soon as I learned our astropaths were dead, but we can't cut them any further without causing outright starvation and worsening food riots. I was hoping you could supplement them."
"No," Solon said sadly. "We brought food for our own campaign, but that would maybe add a day if we gave you all of it. We just have to hope food ships get through."
"I'll have my astropath put out a call," Minerva promised. "Can you describe the strategic situation?" she continued.
"Ah, that's more something my generals should talk about," Grimald said nervously. "I'm afraid they're occupied with the battles at Waveroad at the moment, though."
"A summary would be helpful," Malachi prompted.
"Well, um, when the warp phenomenon occurred, some sort of xenos appeared-"
"They're daemons," Malachi said. "Under the circumstances, there doesn't seem to be much point talking around it."
Grimald paled. "Ah. Well, daemons appeared and were joined by a mass uprising, including about a third of the PDF and a larger portion of the SDF. If it weren't for the daemons, we'd have been able to put it down in short order, I'm told, but with them the loyalists were devastated. Most of the ones on the southern continent disappeared within the day, but they stuck around at a few hives, especially Skytree Hive in the north. With the SDF under traitor control, we had to stay under defense laser cover and couldn't counter-attack. Then the other traitors arrived."
"And used Skytree as a landing point," Minerva said. The eponymous structure, a tower into the edge of space older than any records, would have allowed them to deploy without using shuttles, especially important given how many fighters they'd packed into their bays.
"Yes. They struck at Delving first, which confused the generals-" Well it might; the hive was named for its mines but according to archives they'd been played out for millennia and it held no particular strategic value Minerva could see. "-then at Seasgate. They took both of them in short order. They've largely rolled up the rest of the north; only Salving still holds out. Their sympathizers are still holding on in some of the southern hives, and they've launched an amphibious assault on Waveroad that's taken the docks. My generals tell me that if they can fully secure the city they'll be able to bring in heavy equipment and overrun us."
"They control the seas, then?" Solon asked. "We didn't exactly bring oceanic ships."
"We still have a loyalist fleet," Grimald replied. "Most of it is in port in Tidepoint; the rest is guarding the fishing fleets out of Icehold. The admirals say the ones in Tidepoint are keeping the traitor fleet stuck watching them so they can't go after Icehold."
Minerva nodded. "A common oceanic strategy for an inferior fleet." Minerva had encountered a similar situation before from the other side, and broken the stalemate with a drop-pod assault on the shore batteries. Tidepoint's shield would have obstructed any attempt by the Thousand Sons to pull the same trick.
"Is Highgate still in loyalist hands?" Solon asked. With the maglev network, each continent had concentrated their main landing facilities into a single hive; Skytree in the north and Highgate in the south. "We can land in the wastes, but a spaceport would make for easier unloading."
"Highgate is loyal," Grimald confirmed, then grimaced. "As far as I can tell. We've had persistent trouble with saboteurs in hives we've held. I've had the inspectorates assigned to support the justiciars, but frankly after they missed such a large cult I don't have much confidence in them."
All eyes turned to Malachi. "Unfortunately," he said, "I don't have the personnel to sweep an entire hive without their assistance. The Militarium will have to take security measures."
"The PDF should do that," Brant said. "We need everyone we can get on the front."
"Unfortunately," Malachi said heavily, "there may still be undiscovered traitors in the PDF. If they knew we would arrive, they might have left deep cover operatives rather than having everyone join the uprising. We will have to rely on offworld forces. I suppose naval security or the Astartes serfs could substitute."
Minerva shook her head. "We may use more serfs than other chapters, but the Alecto still relies heavily on servitors. We couldn't spare a meaningful number of serfs from ship roles or our own logistics."
"Naval security can't exactly spare anyone either," Gerax said. "The crews are on edge; if we pull security they're liable to mutiny."
"The Skitarii can secure the Legio's logistics," Krane said, "but not the entire starport. They'll be needed to support us in combat."
"We'll find some regiments," Solon sighed. He turned back to Grimald. "Your generals may be busy, but we will need to talk to them before we make planetfall."
o - o -O - o - o
Mayumi frowned at her painting. The red wasn't quite right; it had dried to a slightly less arterial color than she'd expected. Sanguinius would have bled the same color as his sons did, and she knew exactly what that looked like. She'd mixed it wrong.
"Not perfect," she said. "New sheet." Mem complied quickly, pulling the existing painting aside and setting a new one on her easel. She liked Mem. Malachi would put the painting up somewhere, but Mayumi didn't really care. She liked the painting more than the looking.
The inquisitor was talking to the brother-captain about something. "We'll need to coordinate between you and the regular forces," he said. "Especially the Astartes, but also the others."
"That will be difficult to clean up," the brother-captain said. "This is a substantial commitment of forces, not something easily disposed of." Mayumi perked up. They might need her for that.
"That assumes we try," Malachi said. "Considering the circumstances, the idea of keeping daemons secret seems futile. The ship sailed on that the moment the Great Rift opened."
Mayumi considered what to paint next. She didn't like to try the same thing twice in a row, and anyways she painted Sanguinius a lot. Maybe she should do another Primarch?
"We are a more closely held secret than that," the brother-captain replied. "It could provide intelligence to the enemy."
"What intelligence?" Malachi asked drily. "The daemons know to call you 'Knights of Titan'. Seeing as we can't actually kill them, most of the time, they probably know your weaponry better than I do." He waved his hand. "Oh, I'm not saying we tell them where or how psycannon rounds are made, but I'm sure the captain will grasp the idea of a chapter of daemonhunters just fine."
"You seem rather trusting of her," the brother-captain said. "And her seer especially."
No, Mayumi decided. She'd done all the Primarchs at least once over the warp trip. Today was time for something different. Maybe something to do with the Officio? Yes, she'd do an Execution Force, an all-temple one. Now she just needed a background.
"She's genuine," Malachi replied. "I could feel it easily. As for their loyalty, I read the Ordo Astartes reports rather carefully."
"And they said there is nothing to worry about?" the brother-captain asked skeptically.
She decided she'd show them shipboard, preparing for deployment. The Vindicare would be in the center; he'd lead the force. The Vanus and Callidus would flank him; they'd be doing the planning with him. She considered leaving the Everesor in a cyrotank, but that would ruin the composition. Put him with the Culexus girl, a bit apart from the others. The last clade would be on the far left.
Malachi laughed. "They say there's nothing to worry about with precisely one Chapter, and it's not yours. Of course they're concerned about a Cursed Founding Chapter. The lack of any detectable gene-seed flaw just concerns them more."
"But one thing shines through," he continued. "The Astral Amazons are desperate to prove themselves."
"Prove themselves to whom?"
Mayumi started sketching her outlines, moving with the viper-fast speed of her implants. It was important to get the proportions right. The Callidus, she decided, would use a girl look. Most of the ones she met preferred that. It didn't occur to her to wonder whether that was as calculated a choice as their mission guises.
"Everyone," Malachi said. "Perhaps themselves most of all. They have never delayed their tithe. They send their best to the Deathwatch. They commit enthusiastically to crusades. They're insistent on their independence, yet eager to please. That makes them useful."
o - o -O - o - o
"Bring them online," Minerva said, looking at the massive teal forms of the company dreadnoughts.
"Omnissiah give your blessing," Arachne said, flipping several controls. "Engaging the activation sequence. Welcome, Persephone. Welcome, Nyx."
"My thanks, techmarine,' Persephone rumbled. "Ah, sergeant Minerva, it is good to see you."
"Captain now," Minerva said, feeling a twinge of sorrow. She'd told Persephone about her promotion the last time she woke, and the time before that. Persephone had been a mentor for her as a tactical marine and sergeant before her entombment, and a valuable advisor after. It hurt to see her decay like this.
"That is good," Persephone said, again, "I always felt you had potential."
Minerva forced a smile. "I suppose that's why you were always so hard on me," she repeated. So far, Persephone had remembered everything within a wake cycle, only losing it in the mists of sleep. Minerva knew that wouldn't last.
"To business, then," Persephone said, and Minerva relaxed slightly. The prospect of war focused dreadnoughts, even ones so far gone they couldn't recall their own names. "The inload says we're facing Thousand Sons. I have not faced them before." The inload also included the disaster that had befallen the Imperium, but it seemed Persephone preferred to focus on the immediate.
"Nor have I," rumbled Nyx. "It is said they are few in number, and command their fallen as the Aeldari do."
"Troublingly, they seem to have a disciplined force of mutant slaves," Minerva replied. "Along with many cultists, some PDF-trained. We are awaiting more intelligence, but expect more organized opposition than is typical for Chaos."
"Such is not natural to Chaos," Persephone rumbled. "It is a rare warlord who can impose it, and rarer still that it can outlive them."
"Any such structure is fragile," Nyx agreed. "Slay the warlord, and it will crumble. And perhaps," she mused, "it may be brittle in the field."
"In what way?" Minerva asked hopefully. Nyx had always had a better sense for mortal discipline than Minerva.
"They cannot have cultivated the respect for simple rank that holds us together, and the succession protocols that allows. Even we must reinforce that with deeds, and the Guard with commissars," Nyx replied. "Their subcommanders must be seen to be strong, not merely placed there by whim of those above. They will not be easily replaced in the field."
"Beware, though," she added, "servants of the accursed Changer oft wield sorcery. Their commanders may not fall easily."
"We could really have used those Sisters of Silence," Arachne grumbled. "The High Lords had to pick now of all times to remember they exist?"
"It may be for the best that they're on Terra," Minerva replied. "Assuming they arrived in time."
"The Palace stood against the Arch-Traitor, and the Beast did not dare to assault its walls," Persephone rumbled. "No hastily-organized incursion can truly hope to take Terra, Sisters or no."
"No," she continued, "Terra is not a field fortification to be taken by storm and shock assault. If the Despoiler means to assail the Throneworld it will be by slow siege. It will be by battles such as this, bleeding away the Imperium until Terra stands alone. You have chosen the right battlefield, captain."
o - o -O - o - o
"So much for the fleet," Althrax said bitterly.
"Those psyk-out warheads were an unpleasant surprise," Thoth said. "It nearly went differently."
"And it went better than if we hadn't ambushed them, yes," Althrax growled. "That doesn't change the fact that we don't have a battlefleet anymore, just a handful of freighters, and we didn't even kill any of the transports."
"Perhaps we should take the daemon's offer," Thoth suggested. "Take the librarium and run."
"No," Althrax said firmly. "It wouldn't name a price that low unless there's a hook to it. We're assured the librarium contains real power, but it could be all concentrated in that single volume. We don't even know for sure there's two books left in it." He sighed. "Maybe if we still had the fleet I'd chance it, but we need a real prize if we're to recover from this."
"We could take the Astral Amazons gene-seed instead," Thoth said. "Fabius has quite a bounty on it."
"If we get our hands on some, we can start a bidding war," Althrax replied. "But with that seer of theirs, a teleport ambush is out of the question."
"No," he continued, "We'll have to keep sweeping for the librarium. It's got to be somewhere on the northern continent. And in the meantime, we need to keep the Imperium busy. Tell general Ulthrak to continue the offensive."
o - o -O - o - o
"Before we begin," Malachi said, addressing the commanders and Medea, "I have someone to introduce to you." A massive figure in grey terminator armor popped into being on the hololith. "This is brother-captain Ollerus, of the Grey Knights chapter. Everything I have to tell you about him is above Vermillion-level classified."
Everyone startled at that. Even overall Crusade war plans were classified below Vermillion. Minerva had only encountered Vermillion-classified intelligence twice in her long life. Malachi smiled thinly at their reaction. "I thought that might get your attention. For the purposes of this operation, you may inform those of your forces you deem have a need-to-know of his name, the name of the Grey Knights chapter, and that they have dispatched five terminators with experience in daemon-hunting for this operation, and that their orders regarding facing daemons are to be followed without exception per the Malleus Remit."
No one looked happy at that proclamation, and Minerva wasn't either. "You can't expect us to place ourselves under the-" Brant began.
"I can," Malachi interrupted in a voice of steel. "They are the premier specialists in combating daemonic manifestations, both their physical forms and moral contagion. Disregarding their commands risks the very souls of the men and women under your command, and this entire world."
"However," he continued more mildly, "I understand that they are not generals. They will only assume command as necessary to combat the daemonic threat, and will leave you to conduct the overall war as you see fit."
"Do they outrank you?" Minerva asked pointedly. If they were under a single chain of command it needed to be as clear as possible.
"No," Malachi said, "but I generally defer to them on tactical matters."
"Is there anything you have to tell us beyond what we can share with the troops?" Solon asked.
"The entire chapter is psykers," Malachi said. Brant's eyes narrowed. "Individually, they vary in power and the ones on this deployment are high Delta to low Gamma." Which would have suited them to be librarians of almost any Chapter; higher grades were generally mentally unstable, although Medea was merely hard to talk to. "They are extensively warded against corruption and in ten thousand years not one has fallen to Chaos. They have specialized anti-daemonic ammunition and equipment."
"Are they effective against the Fifteenth's sorcerers?" Krane asked.
"Not enough," brother-captain Ollerus finally spoke. "Our powers are specialized, and in any case the Fifteenth's surviving sorcerers are Beta or higher. Your machines may be our only force capable of matching them."
"If they've got any sense, we're not going to be able to bombard them from orbit," Gerax said gloomily. "The defense lasers on the hives they've taken will be a match for what's left of the fleet."
"Fortunately," Minerva said, "there are likely only one or two actual Thousand Sons sorcerers with this force. For unknown reasons-" unknown to her, at least, "-most of them perished at some point before M32 and they are unable to increase their numbers. They are supported by possessed suits of power armor, but even those are few in number"
"You reported engaging a mutant psyker on the vessel you boarded," Magos Malion droned. "Similar creatures are likely present throughout their forces."
Minerva nodded. "Yes, but their powers will be of considerably lesser magnitude, more akin to Militarium sanctioned psykers. A threat, certainly, but not on the same scale. We should nevertheless prepare to eliminate them; they should be priority targets for snipers."
"We've handled witches before," Brant said confidently. "The real problem," she said, bringing up an image of the globe, "is that there's an ocean between our allied forces and where we need to go. They might be PDF, but they're still a substantial portion of our firepower. And if we don't deal with their navy they're going to be able to land raiding forces at inconvenient locations across the coast."
"Orbital bombardment could do it," Solon suggested.
"Not if they're careful," Gerax said sourly. "Those defense lasers again." He tapped some controls of his own and circles started radiating out from the hive icons. "If we're to effectively target anything in those areas we'd have to get above the horizon for the defense guns. We can get them if they make a push for Icehold, but otherwise I'm afraid we can only give you attack craft support this time."
"The one time we find a planet that's serious about its defenses and half of them are on the other side," Brant growled. "Well, we're going to need those attack craft. The PDF fleet is significantly outmatched, but some Marauders should even the scales."
"Assuming they meet us on the open seas," Solon noted. "If they hole up in Seasgate we won't be able to attack them any more than they can take Tidepoint."
"They will engage you," Medea said. "During a heavy storm."
"We're not going to sail into- oh," Solon said. "Sorcery?"
"Yes. Victory will be uncertain for either side."
"If we don't commit to a naval operation, I assume they'll use their resources for something else?" Minerva asked.
"Many possibilities," Medea said. "Storm during aerial landings if we try a direct planetfall. Communications disruptions during sortie in siege. More daemonic summoning. Mass scale teleport redeploy."
"Can't you just tell us how to win?" Brant asked, frustrated.
"Not this time," Medea replied. "Other seer."
Not that Medea's advice tended to be detailed. She only gave information if directly questioned or if it required a change from normal operations. She had explained to Minerva that she could most easily see what the future would be if she hadn't looked, and the more she acted to change the future the harder it was to anticipate the new future, especially over longer periods. It meant she was inclined to limited action and left tactical command to Minerva.
"That leaves us in our usual state of knowledge," Malachi pointed out. "And yes, conjuring a storm will eat into their ability to do other things."
"We'll need the PDF," Solon said. "We'll have to chance it."
"We should secure Waveroad before the confrontation," Minerva said. "That will give them a port to fall back to in the area. They'll need that for the storm alone."
"Agreed," Solon said. "The Telerion regiments and your Astartes should be able to force the landing back. We can send them in alongside you."
o - o -O - o - o
Lieutenant Alfred, Astor PDF, hunkered down behind what was left of what he presumed had been the outer wall of a warehouse as lasgun fire ripped overhead, and tried to remember what to do in this situation. He had his command section, plus he thought about fourteen troopers between three squads.
His thoughts flickered. He was going to die; they'd been suppressed and were just waiting for someone to chuck a grenade at them. He fought the urge to run; if he didn't take a bolt in the back there was a blocking force waiting. It had seemed a fine idea when the general had proposed it, a way to stiffen cowards. He hadn't expected to be one of the cowards who needed stiffening.
"Trooper Gwynn," he managed, "call in a mortar strike on the far wall." That was right, wasn't it?
"Right- yes sir," she said, retrieving the unit vox. "Platoon Alfred, requesting fire one hundred meters north of current location, over." Only one hundred meters? They could be here in- no, there was too much debris to run, and the marksmen in the spire would be watching for movement.
The vox crackled. "Say -in -ver" emerged, torn by static.
Gwynn repeated herself carefully, and the vox crackled again. "No support –vailable, over" Her expression crumbled. Alfred did his best to keep his neutral. He was pretty sure he failed.
If they couldn't get artillery support, maybe they could get another platoon to help them? Were any nearby? Would-
His thoughts were interrupted by the whine of shell fire. His spirits momentarily lifted, until an explosion sounded behind him. The enemy wasn't going for grenades, they had mortars too. More of them, apparently, in position to arc under the shield. Why couldn't the damn thing have gone all the way to the ground? Then they could just stay inside and let the enemy shoot it.
He grabbed the vox. "Platoon Alfred actual. We're pinned by lasfire at the warehouses! Under mortar fire! requesting support!"
A new voice came on the channel, a strong female voice showing no sign of the panic that had infected everyone. "Thunderhawk One receiving. Fire mission inbound, over."
"What's Thunderhawk One?" he started to ask, then heard a new sound. The roar of jets, howling loud enough to be heard over the whistling of shells and explosions. He turned and saw it, some maniac flying under the shield. It was massive, too, an armored box with wings, painted teal and studded with guns.
"What is that?" he asked, not really expecting an answer, but he got one.
"Astartes!" Gwynn cried. "The angels are here!"
As she spoke, the incoming craft belched flame from its guns, and he heard explosions from the direction of the incoming fire, which suddenly cut off. "Up and fire!" he bellowed, suiting action to words. Hope bloomed in his chest; the reinforcements they'd been promised had finally arrived.
o - o -O - o - o
Helen dropped free from the Thunderhawk, letting her jump pack burn to slow her descent, and as usual wished Minerva stuck a little closer to the Codex when it came to armaments. She still had her power sword and pistol, but her squad had been armed with bolters for this mission. That was common for the Amazons, and Helen had never been pleased with it.
It did have its tactical uses, she reflected as her squad opened fire mid-descent, aiming for targets in perfect cover for assaults from the front. And true, it meant less exposure to lucky blows from officers with power swords, but it wasted the psychological shock effect of a jump assault.
Still, might as well make the best of it. The enemy had set up their mortars near a tower that looked intact enough to take a jump landing. It was currently being used as a sniper nest, making it an ideal target for killing two birds with one stone. She directed her women towards it.
They didn't come in on a straight line; the trouble with snipers was that they carried weapons that could actually damage power armor with a lucky hit. But they were human, or a twisted parody thereof, and had trouble tracking fast-moving targets. Helen's squad were more than human, and had decades of experience firing while maneuvering. Bolter rounds found snipers as hotshot lasguns cracked the air around them.
"They might have pre-sighted their heavy guns on the tower," Thetis commented as they landed.
"Three minutes," Helen replied. "If we haven't cleared the mortars by then, we'll drop among them." She was confident it would take at least that long for the enemy to realize they were in the tower, communicate that to anything heavy, and retarget.
The mortars were set up behind flackboard barriers along a main arterial road, but terribly exposed to fire from above. From the looks of it, the mortars themselves were manned by traitor PDF, while a squad of guards with heavy mutations in modified versions of the ancient Spireguard were scrambling to respond to the sudden appearance of her squad.
Apparently, they'd counted on the shield to preclude any aerial assaults, and hadn't felt it necessary to position autocannon batteries nearby. That left them without any suitable weapons for engaging Astartes, and within two minutes every visible traitor was cut down by precise bolter fire. More rounds struck the weapons themselves, punching holes in the tubes and leaving them useless.
Then they were gone, moving on to the next target.