Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 119
"Target is immobilised, form up into Codex-binary pattern assault pattern and prepare to breach!" Captain Nemkir shouted into the vox.
Chaplain Bulvok voxed back, "Secondary thrust approaching the left flank."
"Make haste and show no mercy," Nemkir replied.
"We are Astartes, we do not know the meaning of the word mercy!" Bulvok roared for all to hear.
Nemkir was already running, his Ceramite boots flinging mud everywhere with each footfall. Smoke rose from the bubbling soil and the ground felt disturbingly unsettled, the acidic undermining loosening the dirt for five kilometres along the trench front. It was uncomfortable for him, but the Tech-priests had assured him the weight of a Space Marine would make no impression. A Capitol Imperialis was a different matter, its enormous bulk out massed an Imperator Titan and had punched through the surface, burying its nose in a pit. It plunged bow-first, like an aquatic boat going down by the prow, its rear end sticking up at an angle that made it impossible to reverse out. Invicta Nova was pinned, made vulnerable to his forces.
Nemkir led the primary thrust, calling more squads to him. Another unit of Raven Guard fell in, Assault Marines, their blooded chainswords swaying with every step. One of the Smoke Jaguar's feral Prowls joined in too, adding considerably to the assault. He had Oroton's Sternguard, Damchak's squad and the Dreadnought, force enough to take a capital ship. Chaplain Bulvok led the rest, closing from the other direction, they would pin Invicta Nova between them and purge it deck by deck, this was the moment Space Marines were built for and they would not fail.
Oroton warned, "Enemy is bringing up reinforcements."
"We must make greater haste," Nemkir growled.
"We will be cutting it close."
"At least we don't have infantry slowing us down," Nemkir retorted.
"Marcher took care of that, along with his own men. Warp take his soul."
Nemkir could not argue the point. Guardsmen lay vomiting in the swampy soil, their lungs dissolving and insides rotting. Alchemic poisons were killing them faster than the Heretics, the Ventrillians failed to get a warning of the incoming gas attack. Brave men, noble soldiers who'd fought for the Imperium, callously killed by their own commander, all to thin the ranks of the enemy. A part of Nemkir's soul wanted to spit and rage at the Lord Militant, but his discipline held. These men's lives had been judged expendable before the battle started, their only value was to deny the Heretics and tie them up for the Space Marines to reach their target. Cold and ruthless, but by such measures did humanity survive the grim darkness of the galaxy. Nemkir was no stranger to sacrifice and would see far worse before he met his end of days.
Damchak hollered, "The Great Byson is pinned, our spear cast must be swift and sure!"
"All we have to do is get inside, the rest is easy," Oroton declared.
"Far from easy," Nemkir retorted, "Narrow confines, close passages and every inch held against us."
Aapo rumbled, "The Jade Foot makes this sound more appealing with every breath."
Nemkir ignored the jab as they ran for their target. Half a kilometre they had covered, in less time than a ground cab could have managed, and the target grew with every step. Its walls rose at a tilted angle, but were sheer and strong nonetheless. Weapons blisters yawned high above, trying to reorient and its vast bulk blotted out the thin light. Nemkir knew this would not be easy, a Capitol Imperialis was more than a weapon platform and command hub, it was also a mobile garrison. The decks would be filled with enemies, and they would be preparing to resist as he closed. A fight as hard as any he had ever known was about to engulf them, but first they had to deal with Heretics outside.
Half a kilometre distant fresh Tellarite forces rolled up. Sealed tanks, hatches buttoned tight, roaring to intercept. They came in with tracks spinning and guns blazing, Crassus, Praetors and even an Olyphant. Nemkir gritted his teeth at the sight, this was a complication they didn't need. He swerved aside as a Crassus barrelled past, the driver not even seeing him in the mad rush. He made them pay for their negligence, his power fist lashing out to strike a track unit. Disruption fields tore through heavy linkages and treads flew everywhere, causing the transport to skid out of control.
Nemkir was already past, racing for the target but other tanks were closing rapidly. A Heavy bolter shot clipped his pauldron and the impact caused him to stumble. He fell to one knee, greaves stained dirty brown and looked up to see an Olyphant bearing down on him. It was going to run him over, squish him like a bug, only Aapo got there first. The Dreadnought slammed into the side of it and the Heretic vehicle skidded sideways. Aapo was on it in an instant, Chord Claw catching the prow and ripping backwards. The entire side of the machine peeled away, exposing the crew to toxic air. Phosgene still lingered in the atmosphere and the Tellarites breathed it in before they could don their gas masks. They flailed wildly, skin bubbling and eyes weeping blood, doomed to die.
"On your feet young one," Aapo barked.
"I had the situation under control," Nemkir growled as he rose.
"You lie poorly Jade Foot," Aapo retorted, "A year and a day practice and I might believe you."
Nemkir accessed the situation. Tellarite machines were barrelling out of the mists, crashing into the Space Marines' path. They were quickly dismantled. A Smoke Jaguar with a melta blew through a track and the axle behind, leaving a Preator to grind to a halt. A Raven Guard threw a Krak grenade into an exhaust and watched as the engine died coughing. Damchak sprayed black fire over a Crassus' vision blocks, then tore open a rear hatch with his claw, exposing the men within. The killing was swift and merciless, even the Smoke Jaguars seemed to have learned some efficiency, but it wasn't enough, time was grinding down and this fight was delaying them.
"Sergeant Oroton, Sergeant Xasha, engage the Heretics, everyone else advance post-haste!" Nemkir ordered.
"Glory calls and we answer!" Damchak protested.
"This is a distraction, leave petty wins for others and focus on the true threat!"
Nemkir broke off, racing for Invicta Nova, behind Oroton's plasma weapons smote vehicles left and right, as Xasha's assault marines flew high on wings of fire. Nemkir led the Smoke Jaguars away, feet pounding hard. It felt wrong to leave Raven Guard behind and press on with Smoke Jaguars alone, but he trusted Oroton to deal with the threat. He did not trust the Smoke Jaguars, he wanted them right where he could see them.
Bulvok's voice cut through, "Captain, we are delayed."
"Heretics?" Nemkir hissed.
"Their numbers mount faster than we can kill them, estimate five minutes to the objective."
"Do what you must to break through," Nemkir spat.
"Understood but there is another matter, Guard Chimeras have entered the field, they take advantage of our fight to slip past."
"Marcher," Nemkir snarled as he switched channels, "Lord Militant, this is no place for mortals!"
"I am not going to be denied the glory of the kill!" Marcher's voice dismissed.
"You are needed elsewhere. Pull back and let us handle it."
"You do not command me. Astartes or not, this is my war and I will win it!"
Nemkir had no time to argue, as a flash of light from above caught his eye. Lascannon blisters firing from Invicta Nova. The ground at his side erupted as the shot barely missed him, the gunners slightly overcompensating for his speed. Nemkir threw himself right as another shot passed through the spot where he'd been running. His boot barely touched the dirt before he powered left, zigzagging crazily to avoid the storm of shots falling from on high. Heavy bolters and Lascannons thundered, trying to hit the tiny motes closing. There was no defence save speed, no strategy other than random dodging, the Astartes could only run the gauntlet and trust in chance to shield them.
Nemkir's legs strained as he bounded in random steps, his fibre-bundle sheath whining in protest of the sudden evasions. He narrowly dodged having his chest ripped open by a lascannon, and his head removed by a Heavy bolter. A Smoke Jaguar was not so lucky, bored through shoulder to hip by a lucky strike at a steep angle, leaving him to collapse face-first into the dirt. Nemkir felt himself dancing along the edge of oblivion, every step promising to plunge him into an infinite abyss. He was daring fate to claim him, bravado he'd thought he shed in this scout-novice days, but it seemed something of his bold youthfulness lingered.
"The salmon runs in mating season!" Damchak hollered.
"I don't know what that means!" Namkir spat back.
"It means this is true sport!"
Suddenly the hail stopped, they'd done it, they'd reached Invicta Nova. The sheer wall of its hull rose as a solid wall but at its base the angle was too steep to target. Gunners above shouted in dismay, calling defenders to guard the vast rear ramp, only Nemkir had no intention of entering via the main gate. Aapo lumbered out of the hail, his top side fuming from impacts, the Dreadnought rotated his upper half to expose the canisters clamped to his back and Smoke Jaguars began to unloaded breaching charges. No mere melta-bomb, or Transonic mine, could pierce this thick hull, they required heavier ordnance than that, and the Tech-Priests had provided.
Charges broad as a man's chest were clamped to the hull in a wide circle, each one set to go off at the same time. Nemkir watched impatiently, feeling time slip past his fingers. Every second's delay grated his temper but he could not make it go any faster. After an aeon of frayed nerves the charges were set and ignited, punching fusion fire into the hull. Triple-density melta discharges slagged armour and melted through bonded plasteel, even chewing Adamantium apart, causing the hull to run like molten wax. Raw heat blasted the heraldry off Nemkir's front but he held steady as a huge hole was bored into the interior, revealing darkness beyond.
"Let the mightiest clear the way!" Damchak called.
"Make way for your elders," Apo rumbled as the Dreadnought stepped into the furnace heat of the hole.
"We follow in his wake," Nemkir ordered, "Clear section by section, take the bridge and end the rebellion."
"As Tunn-Ok wills," Damchak complied.
"Get in there and..."
Motion in the corner of his eye. Nemkir pivoted and his hearts went cold as a war machine charged them from behind. Bursting past the rearguard came a huge tank, a Super-heavy, racing to intercept them. Massive treads crushed the ground, multiple guns twitched in eagerness to fire and the turret brought a squat cannon to bear. A Hellhammer tank, determined to kill the Astartes before they boarded. Nemkir spun about and saw the Smoke Jaguars ducking into the hole. Too slow, far too slow. A direct hit from a Hellhammer would obliterate them, power armour or not. There was only one thing to be done.
Nemkir's open hand caught Damchak in the back and propelled him forward, pushing the Smoke Jaguar inside an instant before the cannon fired. Nemkir's Iron Halo flared, cocooning the breach in a protective forcefield. The Hellhammer laughed at such a feeble defence. A point-blank detonation flung Nemkir away, smashing him bodily into the wall that was Invicta Nova. The Iron Halo kept his innards from behind plastered everywhere, but the impact was like being trod on by a Titan. Femurs shattered, his pelvis fractured in a dozen places, the spine contorted and his skull was cracked, as his internal organs were pummelled like a pugalist's training bag. Even Astartes physiology had its limits and Nemkir discovered them all as his body was broken over and over.
The Captain fell onto his front and lay still as the dead. Every cell in his body was on fire, his bones made into shards of glass in his soft tissues. The beating of his hearts were a bed of nails in his chest and the rasping of his breath was a torture rack. Alarms wailed in his ears as his mashed armour tried to dump a pharmacopoeia's worth of pain balms into his bloodstream. It wasn't working, he was too badly damaged for mere drugs to salve his wounds. His life was slipping away and there was only one way to avert death. He tried to fight it, he tried to remain conscious, but his Hypno-indoctrination was already reciting sus-an-membrane mantras, plunging him into a life-sustaining coma. He had time only for a single thought of the Smoke Jaguars and the fleeting hope he hadn't made a mistake, then blackness took him and Nemkir knew no more.