"Ollerus ordered us to fall back to the Alecto and rearm for air superiority," Thunderhawk One reported. "Your orders?"
"Obey him," Minerva said. "And any future orders from him, but report them to me unless he orders otherwise." She switched channels. "The Grey Knights have commandeered our air support," she told the squad commanders. She closed the link and suppressed the urge to snarl. She'd expect that from an inquisitor, but she'd hoped the Grey Knights would have a proper understanding of the chain of command and what it meant.
It wasn't that they, with the unlimited authority of the Ordo Malleus behind them, didn't have the right to override her orders, but bypassing her left her not knowing what her Thunderhawks were supposed to be doing. That could end very badly if she had been counting on them for close air support.
There was also the minor issue that if she had ordered her sisters to defy him, they probably would have. That was hardly unique to her Chapter, and all the more reason not to risk conflicting orders. Overall, it was not a good start. She doubted recriminations would change anything, though.
Still, if he was passing orders, he might be willing to provide some useful advice. She signaled him. "We've fallen back to the PDF main lines, along with our assault marines. Do you have any directives on combating daemons?"
"Blades and fire."
"Acknowledged," Minerva replied, disappointed by the lack of new information. At least Cornelia's squad had flamers, and the Grey Knights were deployed with the others. Then she mentally shrugged and decided to take a chance. "Is there a pattern for anti-daemonic rounds our forge world or our ships could acquire?"
"No," Ollerus sounded amused rather than affronted. "They are difficult to produce and the entire stock is spoken for."
Well, that was hardly the worst answer Minerva had gotten, but frustrating nonetheless. She'd grown quite fond of variant ammo during her time with the Deathwatch, but the only non-standard bolter pattern Etna could produce were kraken bolts. They were somewhat better supplied with shotgun variants, but still lacking compared to the Deathwatch.
A worry for another time. For now, she had a line to hold. Or rather, a collection of strongpoints in battered warehouses, which had been set out with commendable efficiency, then mismanaged as retreating troops hadn't been distributed into them. Several of them had sat unmanned, and others were assigned platoons of three or four remaining troops. She didn't know where the other retreating forces were, and it was becoming increasingly clear the PDF commanders didn't know either.
Fortunately, the 157th Telerion Armored Fist regiment was approximately ten minutes from the line. It would have been even better if it weren't for the fact that they'd been three regiments back before the Rift opened, but at least all of them had combat experience. In the meantime, she'd spread Cornelia's and Helen's squads out along the line and placed the scouts in reserve, while she stood by Persephone and Vesta
"Screamers," Cornelia reported. Minerva saw them too, manta-like forms flitting over the buildings. The Screamers themselves had to close to melee to fight, but Malachi's briefing had warned-
There, a Pink Horror mounted on one of them, holding a staff. "Target the Herald." Minerva raised her bolter and fired controlled bursts, rewarded by flashes of blue light. It was projecting a kine field. She switched to the PDF channels. "Heavy weapons, target the ones with riders. They're psykers." Technically she didn't have the authority to give that order, but that was a distinction PDF soldiers were generally unaware of.
A single Hydra had fallen back from the fighting and regrouped at the defensive line, and it opened up with commendable accuracy, pounding the wildly maneuvering daemon with its quad autocannons. The daemon fired back with a storm of bolts of warpfire, and the Hydra's guns fell silent as metal twisted beneath the touch of the warp. Minerva bit back a curse; that was the only proper anti-air platform present.
The kine field finally collapsed beneath a blast from Persephone's twin lascannons, the Herald splitting in two but the Screamers were closing. Minerva mag-clamped her bolter to her side and drew her power sword, preparing to engage. She didn't let that distract her from the overall tactical situation even as the first Screamer dived into attack and she cut it apart.
o - o -O - o – o
"Emperor protect us," Lieutenant Alfred prayed as he fired. "From all things foul and warp-spawned, Emperor deliver us." The official line had been that the creatures which attacked when the rift opened were some form of Xenos, but Alfred hadn't met a soldier who so much as pretended to believe that. They were daemons from the depths of hell.
"He's watching over us," Gwynn insisted. "The angels are here."
Indeed they were; he could see two teal-armored forms from his firing position. He could only draw so much comfort from that, though; they were so badly outnumbered by the monsters attacking them. Even angels could die.
He hadn't joined the PDF to fight daemons; really, he hadn't joined the PDF to fight anything. He'd joined because it looked good for minor nobility to have a military background that wasn't too obviously a sinecure, and expected to serve out his commission intimidating the occasional protest that got too out of hand for the Ministry of Justice.
But he couldn't say that; an officer had to inspire the troops under their command, or so the trainers said. Instead he said, "Of course he's watching over us, but more prayer never hurts."
o - o -O - o – o
Helen hated this part of the job, spread out to provide stiffening to a PDF force because they didn't have commissars. It was bad enough for tactical marines, but it really denied her assault marines their advantages. It also left them without cover for their flanks in close quarters. And she couldn't effectively manage her squad split up like this, which grated even though she knew her women could take care of themselves.
Somehow, the fact that she knew it was the right call grated even more. If she was captain, she'd be responsible for giving the same orders to her sergeants. Though she'd have equipped her assault marines properly and they'd not be having to use combat knives. The chapter was too fond of ranged engagements. At least she personally had her power sword.
Fortunately, for servants of a god of trickery the Screamers were pretty straightforward in their attacks, just diving in to bite. Maybe it was because they'd managed to kill the Herald leading them, or maybe it was because there weren't too many options for a mouth on wings.
Of course, they weren't the only threat. Pink Horrors were beginning to advance through the alleyways in disordered, hopping bunches, bombarding the defenders with warpflame. They didn't seem to have any order to their formation, or any overall command, but their numbers could prove overwhelming regardless.
What was absent was their mortal slaves; she didn't see any sign of the beastmen who'd been the main threat to date. They were also unsupported by artillery, and she'd been expecting them to get at least some mortars operational despite the raids.
"Anyone see any beastmen?" she asked, greeted by a chorus of negatives.
"Medea, are they withdrawing or preparing another offensive?" Minerva asked.
"Future is uncertain," Medea replied. "Either possible."
Real helpful, Helen thought. She slashed through the screamer aiming for the PDF heavy bolter position she was protecting. "Do we know why they waited to perform the summoning? Ritual timing requirements?"
"Possible," Medea replied.
"Not likely," Malachi said weakly, sounding half-dead. "There are any number of rituals that aren't sensitive to timing, and they'd have been able to conduct some of them shipboard." He coughed wretchedly. "They would have difficulty maintaining the daemons' presence, however."
One of the runes for Helen's squad turned amber. "Vesta, injury at position gamma. Any sign of our reinforcements?"
o - o -O - o – o
"Colonel, are you saying your men won't advance?" Lady General Brant asked dangerously. Solon was familiar with that tone, and felt no need to check her at the moment.
"They're encountering delays," Colonel Klint said nervously over the vox. "The terrain is difficult to negotiate."
"In a hive city. For which they have maps." Brant growled. "Perhaps their commissars should help them read their maps. Or are they 'having trouble' too?"
"There's debris," he said weakly. Solon knew perfectly well that the dozer blades on the Chimeras could push through any plausible debris from bombardment. If anything, the destroyed buildings would provide shortcuts.
"Let me make this clear," Brant snapped. "We told the Astartes you would arrive in the next five minutes. The Astartes who work for the inquisitor. If you do not arrive in the next five minutes, I will be forwarding their inquiries to your commissar."
"Understood," commissar Caleb replied. "Five minutes." The call hadn't been to him specifically, but commissarial privileges included listening in.
"I'm glad we understand each other," Brant said, and cut the link.
"Not exactly a great start," Solon commented.
"If we didn't need the port facilities intact, I'd have sent the Kriegers," Brant replied. "What's left of them," she added bitterly. Half the Krieg regiments had been lost in the warp. "I'm just glad you talked to the captain about the morale issues ahead of time; that might save both our skins."
"Speaking of which, get me a link to her," Solon ordered, then waited for his staff to set it up. "Captain Minerva, the 157th armored fist is reporting delays. We've ordered their commissars to encourage them, but they may not arrive on time. It might help if you sent someone to motivate them."
"Understood," Minerva replied. As usual, she seemed completely unfazed by being in the middle of battle. They could have been discussing matters over tea. "Unfortunately, everyone is engaged except the scouts, and I'll need their sergeant to direct them in battle. They've only got seven years of training and little combat experience."
"I… see." Solon said. He would give quite a lot to have soldiers with a single year of Militarium training in a newly deployed regiment, but he supposed they were green by Astartes standards.
"We'll continue to hold this position," Minerva said. "Get them here as fast as possible."
"We will," Solon promised.
o - o -O - o – o
"Julia, Flavia, take position gamma," Artemis ordered.
"Yes ma'am," Julia said, moving into action. She was back to her shotgun, with her flamer entrusted to Flavia. The implied lack of confidence stung, but she had to admit she hadn't exactly proven herself on the Alecto. She had an ugly feeling that a repeat performance would see her sidelined for at least the campaign.
Position gamma was set into a warehouse for top cover, with the outer door opened and crates arranged to form firing positions. Dead PDF soldiers lay scattered through the warehouse, and an injured Amazon wearing a jump pack was being tended to by Vesta. Some of the PDF were still alive, manning an autocannon.
Julia joined the PDF at the crates, aware that her carapace armor would only provide limited protection against the unnatural fire of the enemy. Her shotgun, loaded with inferno rounds, took down a Pink Horror in its first blast, coating the resulting blues in blazing promethium. She fired at another pink, then cursed as it phased through.
"Inferno rounds don't count as fire until they detonate," she transmitted, ducking to avoid a pink bolt of flame, then popping up to take down the daemon with another shot.
"Acknowledged," Artemis said. "Maybe wyrmsbreath rounds would work." She didn't sound like someone who expected to actually get any.
Even as she fired, Julia was evaluating the position. It wasn't ideal for a typical defense; there was a broad road in front of the warehouse, but even with that it was barely out of grenade range from the warehouses across the street. Barely out of Astartes grenade range, she corrected herself. Mortals would be more limited.
The upside was that it was comfortably within flamer range, as Flavia was demonstrating to Pink Horrors emerging to engage. The promethium was making short work of them, far faster than the daemons during the warp jump had fallen.
The PDF were… contributing. Julia could barely believe how long it was taking them to reload the autocannon after each burst, but they were firing away as best as they apparently could. Those with lasguns were firing panicked bursts, their aim awful for the range. Julia did have to admit that there was no way two scouts would hold the position alone, not against this many daemons, but she was already nostalgic for the Forest Patrol.
o - o -O - o – o
Arachne glanced back at the sound of rumbling engines, wondering for a moment if the PDF's nerve had failed them. But no, the engines were from further back, chimeras in forest camouflage grinding up the street. It seemed the reinforcements had arrived on schedule, at least here. Of course, there were hardly any bends in the road to provide an excuse for delay.
As soldiers piled out of their vehicles, Arachne took stock of the battlefield. Two of her gun-servitors had been destroyed, one with the organic components so thoroughly twisted by warpfire there was no hope of repair. The PDF had fared somewhat better, hunkering down in heavier cover. Three Amazons were down, though the telemetry indicated two of them were comatose rather than dead.
The Grey Knights who had avoided the Bloodthirster's axe had taken the brunt of the fire and emerged apparently unscathed. Their armor had burned with silver light when struck, robbing the warpfire of its strength. Having depleted their stock of storm bolter ammunition some time ago, they and Medea had repeatedly charged in with force weapons, then withdrawn to pull the enemy into range of the fixed guns.
The knight's force weapons were starting to dim, however. They moved fractionally slower than they had, and the flames lingered longer than at the beginning. It was clear that they were tiring, forced to conserve energy. Arachne couldn't estimate when that would become critical, but the daemons were slowly wearing them down.
There was shouting and a single bolt pistol shot from behind. It sounded like the guardsmen were getting organized. Arachne hoped that wouldn't diminish their numbers too badly.
If the psykers' projections were correct, they needed to hold for another hour and a half, approximately. Then the daemons would dissipate. With the reinforcements, that was entirely achievable.