"Leave the docks usable," Minerva voxed to Thunderhawks Three and Four. "Don't sink anything in the channel." She wasn't sure what condition they were in as it was, but clearly they were at least supporting landing troops and daemon engines.
"Yes captain," they voxed back. The pilots for the squadron were pulled from Atlantae's squad, while the other positions were filled by chapter serfs. Minerva wished she could have filled all the spots with Astartes, but then she also wished she had more on the ground. There were never enough for everything.
That was what the Militarium and PDF were for, of course, and she'd been listening in on their message traffic as much as possible. It painted a grim picture. The traitor forces had taken the docks completely and were able to deploy their armor. The PDF had been forced back through the warehouse district, nearly to the main spire, leaving most of their own vehicles as flaming wreckage behind them. There were some scattered reports of what she now recognized as pink horrors, mixed in with beastmen and the usual crop of forgefiends and defilers. They were heavily supported by traitor PDF and their armor, who from the sound of things were perfectly content to fight alongside the beastmen.
What concerned her was the complete lack of reports of the Thousand Sons themselves. According to the full briefing they'd finally managed to get, they'd been involved in the fighting on the northern continent, both with large-scale sorcery and fighting directly. If she'd been assaulting the city, she'd have come in personally shortly after the shore batteries were silenced to secure a beachhead. Their absence indicated that they had more important tasks to be about, and neither Malachi nor Medea had been able to determine what they specifically wanted.
Regardless, she had a port to secure and a PDF force to rally. She'd chosen to land directly in the middle of the ongoing skirmishes where the Thunderhawk's machine spirit had identified the request for support originating, as much to have the PDF take heart from their presence as for tactical reasons. Nyx and Persephone led them out, both fitted with lascannons for this battle. She heard shouts from both directions and hooves clattering towards the port. Nyx fired, greeted by a cheer from the PDF.
By the time Minerva exited the Thunderhawk, the area was clear of living beastmen, and the PDF were climbing out of cover. She took stock quickly; nineteen soldiers, one with lieutenant's insignia and two with sergeants'. Several had las burns, and she saw only one vox set. "Lieutenant Alfred?" she asked.
"Yes, my lo-lady," he said, with the usual look of stunned awe of line troopers meeting an Astartes. "At your service."
"I need a report on tactical conditions," Minerva said. "Communications from the front are poor." The actual transmissions were picked up quite clearly by the Thunderhawk, but not, it seemed, PDF or Militarium issue vox casters.
"Local comms are shot too, my lady," he said. "It's mostly swarms of mutants and traitors in our own uniforms down here, but Sophia's squad ran into a tank. Our last orders were to fight a delaying action in the warehouses. They've stopped firing their ship guns, but they have mortars under the shield now."
Minerva considered for a moment. "Guard forces are enroute to reinforce. Keep the area clear of infiltrators and signal on the fire support channel if you encounter a major concentration. We'll be listening, as will the gunships."
She turned back to her subordinates. "Artemis, sweep for survivors out of contact with their units. Europa, Arachne, -" and her combat servitors "-Atlantae, Nyx, reinforce the units on the main road. Cornelia, Vesta, Persephone, follow me; we'll seek other transmitting units."
o - o -O - o - o
Arachne kept her eyes on Nyx as they advanced towards the main road. The dreadnought chassis had been a long time in storage, and that occasionally resulted in minor faults developing as the machine spirits grew weary of inactivity. She'd corrected three during the activation process and didn't think it likely she'd missed any, but she was always thorough about her duty.
She also had combat servitors to look after; three custom ones with autocannon. They'd been Forest Patrol before some sort of insubordination had them transferred for use as components; Arachne had never cared to look into the details. She'd built them to be thoroughly controlled by her noospheric links, rather than rely on a typical servitor's target discrimination.
There was a third reason she was down here, and so she probed for noospheric connections, trying to find any surviving networks from the great sea repair yards. She got what she expected, a howling burst of scrapcode. Her first layer of aegis protocols deflected it.
"The shipyard systems are infested," she reported.
"Can you clear it remotely?" Minerva voxed back.
Arachne considered that for rather longer than she usually would. "Most likely, but a sufficiently powerful data-daemon could turn the tables on me, and we are talking about the Thousand Sons here. A safe purge would entail deactivating the system and interfacing while it's offline. Does it need to be done urgently?"
"It does not, unless it spreads to the shield grid."
"Understood," Arachne replied. "That's not likely-" zero point five seven percent; the shields were an isolated system "-but I'll watch for it."
They met and disposed of a handful of advance patrols on their way to the road, PDF with their insignia scratched out and drawn over with stylized flames and packs of beastmen with the same markings. The beastmen made a remarkably disciplined attempt to withdraw by fire and movement, but that technique relied on suppressing fire being effective.
The main road was twenty lanes in total, split by an even larger number of maglev tracks. It was the only direct path that could take an armored advance at speed, and it was strewn with wreckage from sustained battles. Arachne recognized the taint of possession in the twisted forms of walkers in among the broken Leman Russ tanks.
The PDF had formed up a sandbagged firing position along the road, with emplaced lascannons and autocannons alongside hull-down tanks. It looked professionally done, but was lacking the sort of heavy artillery support such a position would usually merit. The shield was high enough to allow mortars on limited arcs, but Earthshakers and Manticore batteries would need to elevate too far at the ranges possible within the shield, and the hive spire only mounted anti-orbital weaponry.
The location, unfortunately, was exposed to the flanks, meant to be covered by units among the side roads rather than in a location with long fields of fire in all directions. The enemy could close to within thirty meters if they came around the sides.
Europa went through the usual routine of introducing herself, waiting for the surprise at a female voice from an Astartes to die down, and explaining they'd be reinforcing the position. This was greeted by relief, incredulity, and speculation about what they looked like under the armor from men who did not realize Arachne could hear them. She gathered the latter was somehow connected to mating, though her education on the subject had been her mother, accurately, saying "Angels don't need to worry about that."
The woman commanding the position stuck to relevant matters. "Praise be for your arrival! We were being bombarded by mortars until just a bit ago." Her insignia marked her as a lieutenant, though by Arachne's count there were two companies' worth of heavy weapons emplaced or destroyed.
"Our assault squad engaged them," Europa replied, as ever at ease with mortals. "They've disabled the main position, but there may be others scattered through the warehouse zone."
Europa was able to extract some tactical information in between praise for them and the Emperor. It seemed the enemy had withdrawn from the road when they realized their mortars had stopped firing and there were Thunderhawks overhead, but before that they'd been attacking fiercely with armor supported by infantry.
"Be prepared for another push," Europa instructed. "The Militarium will arrive by nightfall, and the enemy is likely to try to secure a forward position before then."
Atlantae and her squad joined the PDF heavy gunners, their lascannons and heavy bolters replacing wrecked emplaced guns. Europa distributed her squad to cover the flanks, except for the two precious plasma guns. Arachne placed her servitors in damaged sections of the sandbags; they were, after all, expendable. Then they waited.
o - o -O - o - o
Medea wasn't with her sisters; she wasn't on the planet at all. She was on standby near the teleportarium of the Inquisition ship, along with the Grey Knights. Their shields against precognition pushed against her local sight, but she could tell they wouldn't hold up if she forced it. Daemons might find that more difficult, she supposed.
Her attention was elsewhere, focusing on the flow of the battle. It quivered and split under her sight, the hostile gaze of the daemon pushing back. Something about the way it fractured didn't seem right to her; she couldn't see how some of them were sensible reactions to her moves. Either the daemon was ignorant of tactics or it was playing a deeper game. Quite possibly both.
She pressed harder, and paths resolved. One where she didn't intervene at all saw Helen's squad ambushed by daemons, and a single manta-like beast bearing off a progenoid gland. That couldn't be permitted. Should they commit the knights, though she couldn't see them fighting? That possibility split off, and saw a wave of daemons assault Minerva's unit without a silver flame in sight. Signaling Helen a warning saw a battle won, with several injuries. Avoiding the area entirely saw the daemons redeployed, but poorly. She sent Helen a warning to avoid the ambush.
The greater course of the war flexed, split into far too many pieces to pick out a full path. She saw the allied fleet make port, in victory and in defeat. The ground campaign coursed with possibilities, each influenced by the battle today. She could tell they'd need the drop troops held back from this offensive later, but then Minerva already knew that.
She could see that this battle wouldn't be truly lost, that if the course of things turned against them they could commit more forces and the Titans, lower the shield and allow both sides to bombard the port with the edge going to the surviving Krieg artillery. But that would wreck the facilities, and the future darkened.
Medea felt an unfamiliar frustration, knowing the right words could bring about the brighter futures, but unable to know which those were. Always, always she made sure to speak the right words; it was why she spoke so little unless questioned. Now she couldn't be sure.
Voices cackled from the warp, tempting, promising. They knew. They knew the words that could shape victory, that would see her rise. They knew the words that could make her one true friend Chapter Master. That could make Minerva more, bring back the original plan and grow it further still, make her Legion Master, let her found the Shield Maidens of Fenris and the Iron Ladies of Medusa and Raven Queens of Deliverance and all those dreamed-of cousins that would never be. All Medea had to do was let them in.
She shut the voices out, as she had since childhood. Their promise was a poisoned one. She wondered if the Grey Knights heard the voices too, or if their wards protected them.
Something was different in the warp, though. Somehow, despite the crushing victory that was the Great Rift, something hadn't gone the voices' way. She could see that in vague shadow. Something had happened on Macragge, and not what the voices desired. The warp echoed with a name; Guilliman.
Too uncertain to speak of; the obvious conclusion was tempting, but the vision was vague and could be playing her false. It would not do to give hope that was not fulfilled. She would scry on it further, until she could be sure.
The future of the battle stabilized in one part; an order had been given that could not be easily rescinded in reaction. She voxed the ground forces.
o - o -O - o - o
"Attack incoming on the main road in three minutes," Medea said. "Diversion for flanking maneuver from the west."
"Stand to," Europa instructed, then began redistributing her troops. Arachne checked her servitors again, confirming they had the best lines of fire available with the wreckage. The PDF tensed over their weapons, murmuring dying down.
In three minutes exactly, she saw movement ahead, skittering on mechanical legs. Defiler pattern, deceiver variant, fitted with some kind of perverse crystalline warp-weapon. It scuttled around the wreck of a Leman Russ and was instantly caught by three lascannon beams. Two of them, aimed by Atlantae's squad, cored through the gun and blew it apart in a twisting explosion of warpflame.
It was immediately followed by another, this one armed with a conventional battlecannon atop its unholy frame. Other PDF lascannons engaged, burning away two of the scuttling horror's legs and sending it toppling. Its gun discharged uselessly into the air before follow-up shots from the defending tanks burst the main armor.
The next vehicle into sight was a Leman Russ, Punisher variant, which raked the defensive line with its roaring gatling before Nyx blasted it into ruin. PDF ducked behind sandbags while the Astartes let it rattle off their armor. Then the enemy infantry began to come into view, even as more tanks moved in.
Right at that moment, the flanking attack began. Forwarned, Europa's squad opened fire as soon as their attackers rounded the building. The first wave was PDF in desecrated uniforms, bearing rocket launchers doubtless intended for use against the Astartes. A krak rocket would punch through their armor with trivial ease. But they were slow to bring to bear, far slower than bolters.
Arachne kept her servitors focused forwards; it might be intended as a diversion but a sufficiently determined force could carry through even into a prepared position. The autocannons and heavy bolters opened up into the advancing beastmen, while the lascannons continued targeting the tanks and walkers as fast as they could be recharged.
That wasn't quite fast enough to stop the flow, and the enemy vehicles began returning fire with their own guns. Nyx staggered from a cannon hit, but righted herself and continued firing. Another blast claimed one of the PDF firing positions, and a standard pattern Leman Russ brought its heavy bolters into play. One of Atlantae's women dropped back behind cover, an arm blown off. She'd need an augmetic, but the injury wouldn't prove fatal.
Arachne did the math. It could only be approximate, even with her experience and implants, but she estimated a sacrifice of eighteen additional vehicles would suffice to overrun them, assuming the flank attack was unsuccessful. That was quite possibly a price the enemy was prepared to pay. Therefore, they needed to change the math.
"Minerva, we're at risk of being overrun. Can Helen assist?" she voxed.
"We're four blocks away," Helen said.
"Get in there and disrupt them," Minerva said. "Be careful."
"I'm not going to get in a stand-up fight with tanks," Helen replied.
o - o -O - o - o
Helen boosted up onto the roof, then began to run. She could have continued rising higher, made a single arcing jump over those four blocks, but that would silhouette her against the sky for any antiaircraft weapons they'd brought along to shoot at. If they'd been in more of a hurry she'd have risked it anyways, but Arachne always made her calls quickly. She might fit in better than most Techmarines, and chased the Mars out of her speech except when she needed to talk to the Mechanicus, but there was still a lot of their thinking in her.
"Split targeting," she ordered. "We need at least a mobility kill on as many as possible." They each carried two melta charges, each of which could cripple a tank if placed carefully, but that wasn't an option. Astartes armor was sturdy, but tank armor, even rear armor, was sturdier. Give them time to react and the tanks behind would hose the leaders with heavy bolters. "We'll have to fly by and drop."
She boosted over an alley, checking for targets as she went but finding none. It'd have been a good ambush point for a force looking to confine the assault marines, but they were moving too quickly to allow mortals and mutants to respond. That was, after all, the point.
Two more jumps and they were at the road, which was jammed with tanks trying to work their way around the wrecks of their fellows while simultaneously not squashing the beastmen maneuvering around them. They'd set guards on their flanks, but they'd been anticipating a ground assault. That would delay their response for a few critical seconds.
"Hit and away," Helen ordered, picking out her target near the front. One of the walkers; Arachne probably knew what it was called. Its back was venting a familiar pinkish flame, and it bore two enormous rotary cannons easily large enough to cut through power armor. Best not to make the drop through the flames; she'd target the cannons
Nine women blazed into the air, sweeping across and hurling their payloads with practiced precision. It was a difficult prospect even with all their enhancements and training, and two charges missed. Sixteen didn't.
Helen's charges both struck home, hitting the cannons with a flare of fusion energy, then a gout of warpflame. She'd been hoping for ammo to cook off, but either she'd missed the feed or the hellish thing didn't use regular ammo. Daphne was luckier, and a Leman Russ detonated. Another walker slumped to one side as its legs melted, and a tank swerved as its left tread evaporated. More vehicles joined them.
Then the squad lifted their weapons from where they'd been mag-locked to their sides and hit infantry targets, aiming for what looked to be officers. Helen herself picked out a snarling beastman with a staff crackling with lighting, and disintegrated the mutant's head with a pair of plasma blasts.
She didn't get the result she'd been hoping for, though. The other beastmen hesitated, but it was the usual shock of even disciplined mortal troops at a sudden assault, not the result of suddenly losing a driving psychic presence. Either they'd come by their discipline the hard way, or it was all the way from the top. She wasn't sure which was a worse possibility.
"Should we stick with it?" Helen asked even as they cleared the roadway. The entire assault had taken under six seconds.
"Only if you can disable more tanks," Arachne replied. "This is a killing ground for infantry already."