Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 101
Captain Nemkir was already firing as he emerged from the hold of the Crassus, his bolt pistol barking in a rapid drumbeat. Heretics died in quick succession, their flimsy tunics no match for mass-reactive rounds. An adept with grease on his hands exploded all over the transport he was blessing, a clerk with a clipboard died with a surprised look upon his face, and a team of men hauling a trolley of parts fell like ninepins, not one escaping his wrath. The cool precision of Nemkir's aim meant anything in his path died quickly, and he strode at a fast clip, advancing ever deeper into the garage park.
Bedlam reigned among the Heretics, caught totally unprepared. They reeled before the emerging Space Marines, swept away in a tide of vengeful fury. The armed guards were out of position, drawn away by those strange devices the Smoke Jaguars employed, trapped by indecision as they sought to sort truth from lies. The Astartes gave them no reprieve. Raven Guard poured from their transports, bringing bolter and shotgun to bear. They swept aside all resistance with crisp fire discipline, carving a path through the reeling foe. The Smoke Jaguars kept pace, their previous sloth forgotten in their eagerness to reach their quarry, the hunter's instinct urging them to hasten their pace.
Ahead it loomed, the shrine they had come to destroy. It rose over the horizon, stark white walls illuminated by upwards-pointing floodlights. Statues of various saints rested in hollows, but the walls were thick and well built, able to withstand a stray shell. It shone as a beacon in the night, defiant and proud, an enduring symbol of Tellarite resistance. Nemkir imagined it had attracted many a barrage over the years, but the shimmering void shield generator set at its base protected it in a dome of impenetrable energy. The Astartes would have to penetrate the structure and lay seismic charges, but first they must cross this packed field of enemy vehicles.
Nemkir issued swift orders, "Squad Polmar, detach and sweep right, clear out of those transports. Squad Teremis take scout squads Yuxon and Reandan, intercept the Heretic garrison units, destroy them before they can return. Squad Percus, set up your heavy weapons, targeting priority is at your discretion. All remaining scout-novices are to form a perimeter about our transports and defend our exfiltration route. Squad Oroton with me, Chaplin Bulvok at my side, Smoke Jaguar units stay near to me at all times."
"Our spirits sing for the hunt-kill," Damchak voxed.
"Don't thank me yet, this was your damn fool plan, you'd better be able to carry it off."
Oroton was sweeping left, gunning down fleeing Tellarites, but from ahead a fresh surge of rebels stormed forward. The garrison was responding and three-score men came at them, bayonets flashing. Nemkir was not afraid, he lit his power fist and ran to meet them. The first man was bold, his bayonet scored over Nemkir's abdominal plating. The return blow reduced him to a shower of red mist, the power fist's disruption field unmaking the man completely. The rebels piled in, hacking and slashing but Nemkir swung wide and his fist left a trail of ruin. The Heretics reeled in dismay, and then the rest of the Astartes were upon them.
Damchak's claws removed faces and limbs with every gesture while Bulvok's Crozius smashed them down with booming retorts. Oroton laid in with the stock of his combi-bolter, cracking helmets and the skulls beneath. The rebels stood no chance, they fell before the charge of the Astartes, then Aapo arrived and the Dreadnought went through them like a grox in a wheatfield. Moments later a slick of red was all that remained of the counter charge and Nemkir led the Astartes on.
"Three minutes to the main door!" Nemkir announced.
"It will be well defended," Bulvok warned.
"Speed and surprise will be our armour," Nemkir affirmed.
Damchak warned, "To storm a door takes courage, to find another way takes brains."
"No time for tricks, the Heretics will be sounding alerts even now. This position will be overrun by Tellarite tanks in thirty minutes, we must be in and out before then!"
Nemkir redoubled his pace, they were halfway across the Ferrocrete field and nothing had slowed them down so far. The thunder of explosions rang loud, the screams of dying rebels mixed with the flat bang of bolters. The ground shook with the violent rhythm of battle and the void shield overheard glowed orange where the light of spreading fires was refracted back. Nemkir was pleased, the fight was going better than he expected, until it wasn't.
As they crossed the halfway mark they were confronted by a wall of rebels. Tanks setting down stabilisers and rotating long guns to face them, ringed by heavy weapon teams hastily erecting Heavy Bolters and Autocannons. Behind them a towering prow loomed as a massive vehicle brought its enormous gun to bear, a Colossi, the largest unit the Tellarites could put into the field. Nemkir grasped then that the paltry charge they had defeated before had been meant only to slow the Astartes down and buy time for the defenders to prepare. A good plan, but it hadn't worked, the defences were precious seconds from completion, allowing the Astartes to hit first.
"Take them!" Nemkir roared as he charged at full pelt. Fast as ground-cabs the Space Marines hurtled forward, racing to engage before they could be targeted. Aapo claimed first blood, his Thundercoil harpoon shot past Nemkir's head, slamming into the side of a tank. An apparent miss, so it seemed, but then the Dreadnought veered off, moving laterally. The trailing line of his harpoon swept across the frantic defenders, electrified cabling torching a dozen men even as it bowled them over.
Oroton struck next. An Olyphant tank brought its accelerator cannon to bear but a flurry of plasma bolts bored through its thin armour, igniting ammo and fuel stores within. The machine lifted off the ground in a massive fireball, thrown into the air by its own destruction. Fire rained upon the rebels, coating them in burning hail. Gunners fell to the ground in torment, battering at flames that wrapped them tight. Damchak spread the misery further, sweeping the line with his flamer, adding to the torment.
This had taken mere seconds and the Tellarite line wavered at the sight, but they were not done yet. The Colossi rolled on its tracks and the great cannon buried in its prow spoke. Nemkir was lifted off his feet as a shell detonated perilously close to him. He flew face-first into the ground, his helm impacting most harshly. The back of his skull slammed into the backpack and his teeth bit his tongue, allowing blood to flow. He rolled over, bones aching as his lungs sucked in air, autosenses filled with static. Were he not a Space Marine his body would have been pulped by overpressure, but still he was the lucky one.
Flat tones in his helm's data-feed told of lives ended. One of Oroton's Sternguard was no more, caught full on in the blast, his remains scattered over a large area. A warrior of a century's dedicated service, lost in an instant. Not even his gene-seed remained to be collected, a double tragedy. Several Smoke Jaguars were down too, dead or incapacitated, Nemkir hadn't the vox-codes to tell but they were down for now and couldn't be counted on.
A missile flew high, impacting the Colossi's side armour but failing to penetrate. Weapon emplacements along the flank responded, spitting fury at the gnats racing about its tracks. The battlecannon atop the high prow twisted about but could not depress low enough to target them. The huge vehicle was designed to engage armoured units, but its anti-personnel defences were not to be discounted. If they didn't take this beast down it would tear them to shreds.
A lance of Melta fire from one of the Smoke Jaguar's was accompanied by Damchak's cry, "The hide is too thick!"
Oroton barked, "We need to take it down!"
Nemkir was already rolling to his feet, "Form up and displace to the rear-left quadrant!"
Damchak gasped, "Your head is hard, but the ground proves harder yet!"
"I have not cracked my skull! Now obey my order!"
The Space Marines displaced, running to the rear of the Colossi. The massive machine followed them, spinning on its tracks with ponderous inevitability. Nemkir wove through the rain of rounds it hurled his way, but was keenly aware of the massive barrel in the prow coming to bear, promising to end them all. He screeched to a halt and waited, knowing a single hit would mean annihilation. A moment he waited, a moment more, each one stretching to eternity. He had to time this just right, a single mistake would spell death. The barrel was almost upon them, its angle lowering till it was flat and level at their head height, then Nemkir shouted, "Scatter!"
The Space Marines dove aside an instant before the gunners pulled the trigger. Transhuman reflexes saw them clear the path of the huge shell, allowing it to soar past them, and fly straight into the void shield generator beyond. A huge explosion bloomed among the packed mechanisms, destroying thrumming components and overloading capacitors. Potent energy spilled uncontrolled through focusing lenses and projector vanes, burning out circuits as towering amplifier arrays collapsed inwards. The array was destroyed utterly and in its death throes it unleashed a massive electro-static pulse.
Nemkir staggered as his armour wailed in distress, autosenses furiously resetting. The Colossi fared worse, its systems less hardened against a cruel universe, its cogitator stacks screaming. The machine juddered to a halt, Machine Spirits made deaf, dumb and blind. The tracks seized, the main guns froze and the side gunners found their comms deafened by wailing static. A moment of impotence, all the Astartes needed.
"Take it!" Nemkir roared.
"We must breach the rear hatch!" Oroton called.
"Fear ye not," Bulvok decried, "I have them right where I want them!"
The Chaplain had separated from the pack. Sensing the intent he had positioned himself to mount the rear track unit the moment it was disabled, climbing high before anyone realised he was there. Before Nemkir reached the tracks Bulvok had torn open a roof hatch and entered the Colossi. The thunderous booms of his Crozius announced he was making short work of the crew. This threat was ended, and the objective lay open and undefended.
"With me!" Nemkir called as he turned for the waiting shrine.
"Eldest?!" Damchak called as he fell in.
The stricken Dreadnought voxed, "I recover slowly, do not do that again!"
"Worry not, we're fresh out of void shields," Nemkir stated.
"This way of Codex is more daring than I believed," Damchak noted.
Oroton concurred, "Captain, I do not recall that manoeuvre from our tactical indoctrination."
Nemkir led the way as he retorted, "Codex Astartes Vol II, chapter I, verse VII: If your enemy is secure at all points be prepared for him. If he is superior in strength evade him, if he is temperamental then irritate him. Pretend to be weak so he may grow arrogant."
"I stand corrected," Oroton conceded.
The shrine awaited, its defenders scattered and its doors open and inviting. Only a hundred steps separated the Astartes from their goal. Nemkir was already calculating the time it would take to demolish, the unfolding destruction they must create. Split the squads up and use codex-approved demolition protocols. It would take mortals five hours to secure the site and place the necessary explosives, for Space Marines he allowed ten minutes.
Nemkir set his boot upon the first step but then the vox hissed with a powerful long-range broadcast, "Nemkir come in, this is Lord Militant Marcher! Come in you accursed blowhard!"
Nemkir was ten steps up as he boosted his comms to the maximum, "Captain Nemkir here, I am busy!"
"I can't hear anything but static," Marcher snarled, "Damn it to the Eye of Terror, you must withdraw!"
Thirty steps up, feet pounding hard, "I am at the objective, stop interrupting."
"Either he can't hear me or he's dead," Marcher barked at someone, "Nemkir if you still live then listen, Heretic tanks are closing on your position, they'll be all over you in five minutes!"
"Then we will redouble our speed," Nemkir snapped as he passed the fiftieth step.
"Throne dammit, this thing isn't working!" Marcher hissed, "Nemkir if you can hear me, the void shield is down and I can't let this opportunity slip away. I'm sending in a full airstrike to level that Shrine, they're already inbound. If you can hear me get out, get out now, before our bombers pound that whole site into rubble!"
Nemkir stumbled just short, causing those behind to screech to a halt. He spun on the spot, eyes seeking the horizon. Autosenses cut through the night and picked out tiny motes in the sky, so far away but closing swiftly. Hundreds of broad-winged Marauders, their holds filled with high explosive ordnance, accompanied by missile-armed vulture gunships and heavy Thunderbolt fighters. Firepower enough to leave no stone standing atop another and kill anyone who was within a kilometre radius of the shrine. Cold truth stole over Nemkir, their allies were going to complete the mission with or without the Space Marines, and the greatest probability was that the Astartes were about to be killed in the process.
Oroton pulled up beside him, "Captain? What ails thee?"
"Get them out," Nemkir hissed.
"Do what?!"
Nemkir roared, "Get them out, everybody fall back to the transports. Withdrawal under fire protocols, maximum alacrity. Get out now before it's too late!"