Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 114
"Reports from orbital-defence commanders, the Terran Battleship is withdrawing beyond the horizon," a vox-officer reported.
"Damage?" Vanderspeak demanded to know.
"Helm appears listless and slow to respond, augur soundings estimate she's crippled."
"Excellent, order them to keep a watchful eye for that Battlebarge creeping over the horizon, they may yet attempt another bombardment," Vanderspeak commanded.
Von Tor lifted an eyebrow, "You think they would dare another run?"
Vanderspeak grimaced, "It's the only weapon the Terrans have left that can threaten Invicta Nova. Magma bombs may be inaccurate, but they are powerful."
The General cast his eye over the Hololith, taking in the disposition of his armies. The orbital barrage had torn great furrows in the ranks of the Land Leviathans but had not been able to thin their numbers enough to deter them. Superheavies were rolling across the former front line, claiming ground at a fantastic rate, while deep-ranging units were pressing forward, claiming depots and discarded equipment, while others harried retreating Terran regiments.
The invaders had been routed, their entire front collapsing backwards. Tanks, Chimeras and Basilisks streamed further back into the Isthmus, carrying hundreds of thousands of Guardsmen to prepared defences further away. Decades had those fortifications stood idle, preserved only due to fossilised tactical doctrine. They were proving their use now, frantic troops taking up positions and readying for the next fight. They'd gone straight past the second line to the third, a smart move, the Terran army was still faster and this gave them more time to prepare. Vanderspeak knew the war was far from over, it wouldn't be over till the Terran invaders were driven entirely from the soil of his world.
"They are getting away," Von Tor noted.
"I am aware of that," Vanderspeak growled, "I am detailing rapid-strike forces to harry them, but we will outstrip our logistics if we charge headlong into the fray."
"Surely allowing them time to regroup is a mistake."
"I do not lecture you on the politics of the Ur-Council, do not tell me how to wage a war."
"Very well, I accede to your greater experience," Von Tor allowed.
Vanderspeak turned to Haldrist, "Gun-Captain, take Invicta Nova to the supply depot in grid-sector 45. You have autonomy to engage targets of opportunity while I am engaged."
Haldrist did as bid, taking charge of the Capitol Imperialis' operations. Vanderspeak had wider concerns, the offensive had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams, but the Tellarites had driven further than anyone had anticipated. Most tanks only had as much fuel as their engines could hold, and the resupply bowsers were filled only with fumes. Vanderspeak turned his full attention toward correcting that situation, detailing forces to secure the first Promethium depot and directing bulldozers to set off from the Tellarite trenches, clearing a road for fuel trucks to move forward. By his estimate one store had enough Promethium to sustain the Tellarite army for a hundred kilometres. Not enough, not nearly enough, and he hurriedly brought up his plans for a leapfrogging march to secure further supplies, updating them to the current situation.
After an hour Vanderspeak cast his eye wider, noting Terran forces bogged down in traffic jams or fighting to get away. Olyphants and Crassus transports were despatched to destroy them and clear the roads for the rebel's future use. That took him another hour and he'd barely begun to scratch the surface. He coordinated with his adjutants and support staff further behind the line, drawing the emplaced Tellarites still manning the trenches forward, to assume control of dugouts and bunkers recently abandoned. Air strikes on his forces were a persistent nuisance, but brave Thunderbolt fighters raced to intercept them, filling the sky with swirling dogfights. Vanderspeak highlighted a series of straggling Terran convoys for attack by his own bombers, trusting his subordinates to handle the details. Command posts he ordered levelled by Praetors, a valiant counter-attack around the perimeter of the Behemoth explosion was annihilated, an abandoned garage was taken without a shot, finding scores of Chimeras waiting to be claimed. The Adeptus Astartes forward base he made sure to give a wide berth, none of his men could dream of matching a Space Marine in battle, he would have Invicta Nova deal with that directly.
Vanderspeak's eyes were red raw and his throat hoarse when a hand on his shoulder distracted him. Von Tor stood at his side, a concerned look etched upon his brow. The General was confused for a moment till he realised the light coming through the bridge windows was growing dim. The day was rolling into night, inexorable but unlooked for. He'd been so engrossed he hadn't noted the passing hours but the numbness of his feet and a stiff pain in his lumbar told him he'd been standing upright almost an entire day.
Von Tor frowned, "You need to be relieved."
"Can't" Vanderspeak croaked, "Too much to do."
"You've been at attention for twenty hours straight, you're not a Space Marine. You need sleep to be at your best."
"I can't rest if my officers don't."
"They've already had a shift change. Let your subordinates take the load, they know what needs to be done."
Vanderspeak rubbed his bleary eyes, "You have a point, but I will see the Astartes basecamp destroyed first. That will buy us a respite."
"Sir, I think you need to take a look at this," Haldrist called. Vanderspeak turned his aching neck and saw the Gun-Captain peering at an auspex screen. The man had been on his feet just as long as the General, but the worried energy in his stance betrayed nervousness. Vanderspeak pushed past Von Tor and craned to look at the screen, seeing it was a Terricoli station, using ground-sweeping Auspex to assess the land directly ahead of Invicta Nova. The mighty machine was broad and heavy, but it was no Titan, unsound terrain could spell its doom. One unsafe gradient could topple Invicta Nova and that would be the end of them all.
"What am I looking at?" Vanderspeak demanded.
"A Terran convoy has turned from its retreat, it's headed straight for us," Haldrist explained.
"Leman Russ numbers?" Vanderspeak probed.
"None, that's the strange part, they're support vehicles, Atlas Recovery units only."
"That's why they didn't trigger an alert, no threat, but it's suicidal. I'm too tired to play guessing games, just bring up some Olyphants to wipe them out and..."
"Alert!" a terrified cry arose, "Incoming aerial forces, there are a hundred planes bearing down on us!" Vanderspeak tore away from the pict-screen, alarm surging through him. In his moment of distraction several aerial forces had turned from their projected paths, converging on Invicta Nova. A cleverly laid out ambush, leaving the Tellarite interceptors struggling to catch up. This was a serious problem, Invicta Nova had no anti-air batteries, depending on supporting Pilum launchers for coverage.
"All stop!" Vanderspeak barked, "Task anti-air units for immediate engagement. Maximise void shield coverage!" The crew hastened to obey, shoving as much energy into the protective dome as they could. The Capitol Imperialis was too slow to dodge falling munitions and the Pilum's would have better rates of fire if still. Moments later missiles streaked away, tearing up towards greet the incoming Marauders and pilots began to die. Explosions ripped apart the bomber formation, blasting wings off and sundering tails. Stored bombs exploded, fuel ignited and bodies tumbled from broken planes, fighting fires that turned their parachutes to ashes. Vanderspeak watched in rapt dread, counting the seconds until his Thunderbolt caught up.
"Sir, there's a problem," Haldrist called.
"I can see that!" Vanderspeak snapped.
"No, not the planes, the Atlases they're armed."
"What?! They're tractors, what could they carry?!"
"Cyclopes sir, lots and lots of Cyclopes."
Vanderspeak spun on his heel and stared out the windows. Far below the Atlas vehicles had slammed to a halt but their rear cranes swung about, bearing small, tracked devices. Barely shoulder height, with simple engines and vox-controlled, but they could carry a sizeable amount of heavy explosives directly to the enemy. Vanderspeak realised the aerial battle was a distraction, allowing the sneak attack to close unmolested. They would surge into direct contact with Invicta Nova, under the shields and detonate at point-blank range. The tracks, God-Emperor save them, if the tracks blew out then Invicta Nova would be immobilised, little more than a static fortress and the entire offensive would stall.
Haldrist was already shouting, "Pivot ninety degrees right, ready left weapon blisters!"
"No time," Vanderspeak snarled, "Drop forward shield, missiles to fire at zero range!"
Von Tor gulped, "The shields are all that protect us from the bombers."
"Obey my order, missiles now!"
Invicta Nova shuddered as the forward shield was lowered and the prow missile launchers flared. Streaking warheads stot upwards, curving steeply to land directly ahead. The shield would have fluctuated and allowed them through, but would have prevented them from landing again, so close was the range. Vanderspeak watched them start to land, blossoming explosions rising directly ahead. Cyclopes rolled into that firestorm, trundling blindly forward, steered by operators in the Atlas' behind. Secondary explosions bloomed, bright yellow and red as demolition charges were prematurely triggered. More and more, catching other machines in the conflagration, it made his eyes hurt and the deck tremble under his boots but he prayed the firestorm had engulfed all the Cyclopes. Then another threat arose.
"Incoming bomber!" Haldrist roared.
"Cease fire, raise the shield!" Vanderspeak bellowed.
"He's taken damage... Throne... Collision course, he's going to ram us!"
"Shields, shields now!" Vanderspeak roared.
He could see it, above the flaming clouds sweeping their prow. A speck diving from the sky above, trailing smoke. A Marauder bomber, nosediving for their position. Smoke spewed from its engines, the rear of the plane was on fire, but the pilot yet lived. He was a dead man, without any prospect of survival, so he chose to commit his death to a final act of defiance, trying to take Invicta Nova with him. Brave, so damnably brave, If Vanderspeak wasn't in immediate peril he would applaud. Shield generators strained to activate, fighting for coherency. The bomber grew in his sight, becoming a cross-winged avenger falling from on high. Shields flickered, so painfully slowly. They weren't going to make it. Vanderspeak steeled himself for death, he would not flinch, not now. No matter what fate awaited him he would meet it with as much courage as this doomed pilot, he refused to be shamed.
A second before impact the shields caught. A shimmering barrier of protection enveloped the prow, forming a wall in the bomber's path. The blastwave shook the air so hard Vanderspeak swore the windows rattled. The bomber disappeared, replaced by a wall of dancing flames, pressing hard against the straining shield, yearning to break through. Vanderspeak winced and flinched away from the searing light, unable to keep his gaze forward and green blobs swept over his vision. He blinked furiously to clear his eyes and when sight returned found no trace of the Marauder, only smoky ashes. The bomber was gone, the Cyclopes taken with it and the remaining air assets were being mercilessly culled by Tellarite Thunderbolts. The Terran ambush had failed.
"You did it!" Haldrist cried, "You saved us!"
"I..." Vanderspeak sagged, "I..."
"The Sainted General did it again, shielded by the God-Emperor's Grace!" Von Tor announced proudly.
The bridge crew looked upon him with reverent awe, astonished by their survival. Many of them kissed Aquila tokens and more than a few began whispering into the vox about a miracle, and the Sainted General. Vanderspeak had no energy to disabuse them, he felt drained, like a wet rag twisted in meaty hands. The exhaustion of the day hit him in a rush, and he felt the need for his bunk overwhelm him.
Wearily he sighed, "Gun-Captain, we aren't done yet. Get Invicta Nova moving."
"Of course sir, any direction in mind?" Haldrist replied jubilantly.
"Point us at the Astartes' forward base and ready the Behemoth Cannon. I want that base turned into a crater as soon as possible."
"On it sir," Haldrist replied, "You need rest, go put your head down, your adjutants can handle what needs to be done. You got us further than anyone else, thank the Throne you were here."
"I... what?" Vanderspeak frowned.
"Only that without you we'd never have got this far. God-Emperor bless you sir, none of this would have been possible if you weren't in charge."
Vanderspeak was too tired to argue and said, "If you say so. Make sure that the base is levelled, then get some rest yourself. We've got a long way to go yet and there's no telling what surprises the Terrans will throw at us next."