Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 118
The vox-waves rang with reports, "Hard fighting in Grid-sector 2, they request reinforcements. Aerial sortie in Grid-sector 76, Thunderbolts scrambling to intercept. Super-heavy's have broken through the trenches in Grid-sector 99 but furious counterattacks have stymied their advance, they cannot advance any further. Magma-bomb impact in Grid-sector 17, massive casualties, the thrust has been shattered."
General Vanderspeak's augmetic ears throbbed with a constant barrage of information, making his brain hurt. The Hololith was alive with activity, the rebel assault on the third line hitting everywhere at once. Organising this massive offensive had taken all his logistical skills, but managing a hundred battles at once was beyond even him. The bulk of coordination was being managed via vox-relay from Holorus Hive, with him only giving the occasional directive.
The situation was balanced on a knife edge. Vast waves of Land Leviathans threw themselves at the line, blasting and hacking as they fought to get past the trenches. Artillery reaped fearful tallies on both sides, as bombers flew back and forth, dropping munitions wherever they happened to find themselves. Dug-in defenders hammered furiously at oncoming waves of men, while Super-Heavy's punched through with raw mass. Here and there breakthroughs occurred, but swift repulses by columns of Leman Russ tanks thwarted the spearheads before they could dig deep. This was the final battle of the war and both sides knew it, there would be no more retreats, no withdrawals save in shameful defeat.
"Are we winning?" Von Tor asked casually, as if enquiring after the Scrumball score.
"Too early to say," Vanderspeak grunted.
"There must be a weak spot."
"None that present themselves, the Terrans did a damn fine job rebuilding their defences in only a few days."
"Maybe if we hadn't dawdled along the way," Von Tor sniffed.
"We had no choice, we didn't have the fuel to reach the third line, let alone assault it. If we don't capture that depot we won't get much further either."
Just behind the line in Grid-sector 13 squatted a series of giant storage vats, packed to bursting with Promethium. The sight filled Vanderspeak with greed and fear. Within those vats rested fuel enough to allow the Land Leviathans to drive the Terrans from their world, all the way to the spaceports and Hives. Capturing them was vital, but they also presented a deadly danger. A few stray shots could ignite the Promethium and destroy the entire depot, leaving the Tellarites short.
"Why are they so close to the line?" Von Tor mused.
"Ease of access, their vehicles need fuel as much as ours do," Vanderspeak shrugged.
"Seems reckless of them."
"Cunning, whether intentionally or not we dare not deploy the Behemoth Cannon so close to the depot."
"And if the Terrans deduce why we hold fire and destroy the depot themselves?"
"Let us pray that they are as stubborn as ever."
"General, we need your eyes on this," Haldrist called. Vanderspeak had been expecting this and transferred his last orders to the strategic centre hundreds of kilometres behind. This was the most critical fight and required his personal attention. He turned and gazed out the windows, seeing the fight raging. Between Invicta Nova and the depot, a thin line of trenches lay. They were engulfed in fire and explosions, brave men dying by the thousand as they struggled for dominance. Vanderspeak had brought his best units to this Grid-sector, but Space Marines stood against them. The Astartes had identified the critical keystone upon which the entire war would depend and placed themselves at its fulcrum. Even now Tellarites streamed away, their courage broken.
"Feckless cowards," Von Tor hissed.
"They face the God-Emperor's Angels, they would be mad not to be afraid," Vanderspeak sighed.
"They have the Sainted General to look up to!"
"Small comfort when a seven-foot giant in Ceramite is hacking their friends apart, but it is indeed time to intervene."
"Permission to drive over them and squish the lot?" Haldrist asked.
"In a moment, first bring up the Triumph of Tellaris."
Haldrist blinked, "Sir... but the Depot..."
"I'm not aiming at the depot," Vanderspeak smiled coldly, "Maximum range, fire deep behind their line, I don't care where, just give me shock and awe."
Haldrist grinned as he turned to the bridge officers and began barking orders. The chanting of the Enginseers increased to a fever pitch and the targeting rituals commenced. Armoured shutters rolled down as everyone donned ear defenders and the mighty breach was loaded. Power drained to the capacitors, the Terricoli declared the terrain was stable enough to support the recoil and the cannon's great length rose to the ideal elevation. When the discharge came the blast wave still knocked Vanderspeak back against the Hololith, slamming his pelvis hard as fierce light etched the edges of the shutters with incandescent flares.
"Open the shutters!" Vanderspeak demanded. The windows were cleared, revealing a fierce cauldron of fire on the horizon. Far behind the line the explosion had wiped out a sizeable chunk of the Terran's rear, destroying rail links and comm-posts but sparing the vital depot. Moments later the blast wave reached their position, rocking Invicta Nova back as Guardsmen were hurled from their feet and tanks toppled clean over.
"The God-Emperor's wrath smites the unclean!" Haldrist cried.
"The Terrans are scattered and divided," Von Tor noted.
"Time for us to advance," Vanderspeak ordered, "Take Invicta Nova forward, bring up the second wave, we require infantry support."
The bridge rumbled as Invicta Nova drove on, closing on the trenches. The giant machine was a battering ram which would punch through any resistance, and then the thousands of soldiers jogging in its rear would pour through and capture the depot. Vanderspeak was already planning his next moves. The fuel would allow the Land Leviathans to roll up the line, breaking the final defence, and then on to the ultimate triumph. But first they had to survive the response.
The sky split as a streaking meteor shot overhead, leaving a smoky vapour trail behind. It passed far off to the right, landing some ten kilometres distant. The ground shock from violent impacts and the explosion painted the heavens red, but Invicta Nova rolled on untroubled. A Magma bomb launched from orbit, powerful but highly inaccurate. Thousands of Tellarites were dead, but the loss would not stop the rest. So long as Invicta Nova endured their victory was assured.
"Sir, we have incoming!" an Augur officer called.
"We noticed," Haldrist spat.
"Not orbital," the man corrected, "Artillery, homing in on our position."
"They'll shell their own men," Vanderspeak growled in anger.
"Readings are strange... not high-explosive... airbursting warheads... logic engines read... gas..."
"Throne," Haldrist gulped, "Full environmental seal checks now! Contact the infantry, tell them to get their gas masks on!"
Vanderspeak started forward as he saw popping blinks overhead. Nearby Earthshakers were flinging shells their way but instead of incendiary compounds they were filled with caustic chemicals. They burst directly overhead, showering the battlefield with impure Phosgene. Crude yet simple to produce, easily manufactured and just as easily distributed. Vanderspeak watched in horror as thin yellow clouds descended, enveloping the field in caustic fumes.
Tanks sealed their hatches tight and trusted air filters to save them but the infantry were not so blessed. Skin broiled at contact, eyes wept blood and lungs cramped up in agony. Hundreds of men fell to their knees vomiting profusely, as others clawed at blistering faces till blood ran freely. Some managed to get their gasmasks on in time, but the edges of the fittings were imperfect and lesions bubbled wherever skin was exposed. It wasn't just the Tellarites who suffered, the Terrans were struck down too. Thousands of Guardsmen murdered by the harsh indifference of their own leader.
"They kill their own men," Haldrist snarled, "Murderous scum!"
"Terra's rot has gone too far," Vanderspeak growled, "This cannot be allowed to continue."
"They are thinning your infantry support," Von Tor cautioned, "They may be clearing the way for Space Marines to close on Invicta Nova unmolested."
"They wouldn't!" Haldrist gasped.
"Power armour is proof against chemical attack, and Guardsmen are easily replaced."
"Let's not give them the chance," Vanderspeak hissed, "Bring up armoured support to clear our flanks, then take Invicta Nova right into them!"
The deck rumbled as the Capitol Imperialis rolled forward, closing on the trenches. The gas attack had no effect whatsoever on its sealed hatches and its armoured flanks were impervious to small arms. The shields shrugged off stray shells and weapon blisters hammered any surviving Terran tanks they spied. Invicta Nova was inexorable as an avalanche, a natural disaster set in motion. There was no stopping it, all one could do was get out of the way or die. Vanderspeak's fist tightened in anticipation, seventeen years of slaughter all for this moment. The final triumph of his people, his life's work but his confidence proved unfounded.
An augur-operator called, "Sir, I'm picking up activity at the depot. Machinery in operation."
"Are they rigging a self-destruct?!" Vanderspek barked in alarm.
"Negative. Repeated echoes, some form of industrial process... I think we're detecting pumps."
"Pumps, why would they be pumping Promethium out now?"
Suddenly a Terricoli yelled, "Instability detected! The Auspex is going wild, the ground's collapsing right under us!"
"Full reverse!" Vanderspeak screamed, "Back us out now!"
It was too late, for the trap was sprung. With scant days to work the Techpriests had drained the depot of Promethium and filled the vats with bulk chemicals. Buried pipes had been run out beyond the trenches, far enough underground to be sheltered from artillery or detection. When Invicta Nova rolled into the right space pumps began to push chemicals into the pipes, spewing them into pre-dug pockets. Specially chosen chemicals combined and reacted, forming one of the most potent acidic mixes known to man. Thousands of tonnes of acid, bubbling right under Invicta Nova's treads. The pockets dissolved in seconds, soil and rock chewed to nothing by the hyper-caustic mix. The ground sagged, sinkholes formed as gaseous geysers shot into the sky. In seconds the terrain went from solid to dangerously undermined, and the sheer weight of a Capitol Imperialis punched through the surface to drop its front end into a newborn pit.
Vanderspeak was thrown off his feet as the floor dropped out from under him. Everything tilted, the entire bridge dumped into a thirty-degree slump. Officers tumbled from their chairs, flailing to catch consoles or railings. Machines wailed in Binaric distress as Enginseer's relics rolled away. One lost hold of a heavy brass lectern which rolled over and over till it struck a pinned vox-operator and bashed her brains over the consoles. Invicta Nova rumbled in dire distress as the prow slid deeper yet into the dirt, dragged down by its own immense weight. The blunt front dug into softened mud, till the bridge windows were covered entirely, plunging the crew into darkness.
Vanderspeak was laid across the wall under them, praying for dear life. This was how he died, and so ignoble it was. The God-Emperor was punishing him for his hubris, all his dreams made ashes and his pride was revealed to be hollow. Not like this, he prayed, let him die on his feet with some shred of dignity. Not buried alive, helpless and impotent. If his deity heard then there was no response and Vanderspeak's shame mounted. Then with a final judder the slide came to an abrupt halt, and Invicta Nova was still.
"Report!" Vanderspeak hollered, "Report!"
Haldrist was struggling to stand on a floor tilted at thirty degrees, "We're in a pit."
Von Tor clung to a rail to get upright, "We know that, can we reverse out?"
"Front end is buried; rear is sticking out like a sore thumb. We can't get out without serious lifting gear."
"We don't have time for that," Vanderspeak spat as he pulled himself upright with one hand on the wall.
Von Tor betrayed a flash of fear, "The... the Astartes..."
Vanderspeak pulled free his Inferno Pistol, "They're coming for us, be sure of that. All hands draw arms and make ready to repel boarders. We're going to have to fight them off hand-to-hand. God-Emperor's favour be with us, we're going to need it if we're to last the hour."