Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 171

With the spaceport lost there were few places troops could deploy, so the capital city of Coronam became a de facto landing ground. Astra Militarum dropships began setting down along the twinned boulevards of Bridgeway and Hanged Man Lane, disgorging thousands of bleary-eyed Guardsmen as overworked Arbites held back fearful crowds. Mechanicus landers set down on the Triumphal Way, Skitarri marching in lockstep towards fanes and forges of adepts dotted around the capital. Uncaring for the orders of Governors or Generals, the Tech-priests would guard their own. A single Drop-Keep of the Questor Imperalis touched down at the square behind the southern River Gate, towering Knight Engines of House Orhlacc emerging to the gasps of stunned PDF soldiers. Aeronautica squadrons took roost in the hangers of the Governor's Palace to the east, and artillery regiments landed along the docks where the northern edge of Coronam met the Simmering Sea. But when a second Astartes Chapter came to Praedium they chose to land to the west of the Silver River, inside the gardens of the Sanctum Imperialis.

Flights of ocean blue Thunderhawks landed in perfect rows around the grounds, ramps lowering to allow Transhuman giants to emerge in lockstep. Ceramite boots sank into loamy mud, crushing beautiful floral displays that monks had tended for millennia. Their blue boots were stained and the storm-grey pauldrons were dull in the pale light. These Space Marines cared nothing for such trivialities, their eyes on the horizon and bolters loaded. A solid wedge bearing the badge of Second Company was already dispersing, directed by their Captain to secure the perimeter while the next wave came down. Next Brothers bearing icons of Ninth and Seventh Companies, and of course the Glorious First. Some three hundred Storm Heralds set foot inside Coronam, determined to fight and die in defence of this city, but none of them was less pleased than Veteran Sergeant Ajax.

"What a festering midden to die for," Ajax growled as his boots sank into the churned mud.

"Not so different to the thousand other cesspits we've fought in," Brother Iagion remarked jovially.

"I've seen more impressive villages on Trux," Ajax snorted, "And they call this a Garden World!"

"It is an old world," Iagion commented, "Almost as old as you."

"Less cheek from you," Ajax grunted, "Don't make me put you over my knee."

"I defer to the wisdom of the ages, oh venerable one!"

Ajax's grim countenance didn't smile, but his eyes twinkled. He and Iagion went a long way back, they'd fought and killed together for over a century, but Ajax was already a veteran when Iagion was only a Neophyte. Iagion had matured, his kill-tallies many and his Friction Axe anointed with the blood of Heretics, Xenos and Traitors, but Ajax wore age upon his brow as a laurel, his forehead emblazoned with four service studs for long service. He was scarred, grim and disapproving in mien but his armour was flawless. Resplendent in the glorious filigree of the Vanguard Veterans. The Jump pack over his shoulders purred smoothly and the master-crafted Eviscerator at his hip cast a long shadow.

The pair led their squad of six forward, seeing the Storm Herald's third wave starting to come down. Heavier vehicles, Rhinos, Predators, Land Raiders and Whirlwinds. Urban fighting would be challenging for a vehicle but Ajax knew such firepower would be needed. Orks were coming to Coronam and every last bit of firepower would be required to survive the next few days. He knew many of these callow youths calling themselves Space Marines would not live out this campaign. They knew no fear, but he feared for them.

As they walked Iagion quipped, "I heard there's a Chapter already deployed on the surface: Smoke Jaguars."

"Never heard of them," Ajax grunted.

"Some Raven Guard successor from Segmentum Tempestus. This deep into Segmentum Solar they'rea long way from home."

"They better stay out of our way," Ajax muttered.

"We need every bolter we can get."

"If they were any good, then we wouldn't be here."

Ajax wasn't joking. Waaagh Orkamemnon threatened to plunge deep into the heartlands of Imperial space, imperilling Terra itself. Not since the War of the Beast had the Throneworld come under Greenskin threat, but with the Imperium still rebuilding after the Age of Apostasy defences were thin. Four hundred years since Sebastian Thor died, and still the Imperium was but a shadow of its former glory. Four hundred years had Ajax battled to secure the broken pieces of a galactic empire and he wasn't sure if anything had improved in that time.

They passed into the shadow of the Sanctum Imperialis, the rising edifice blocking the dawn light with its jagged spire. Covered in scaffolding and servitor-lifters, changing the millennia-old monastery into a soaring cathedral worthy of the deified Emperor. Ajax hated it on sight. A gaudy mess of worthless ornamentation and ugly buttresses, tactically unsound, strategically worthless. Half the labour spent on upgrading that fane could have doubled this city's fortifications, though his opinion wasn't popular. Many Brothers made the sign of the Aquila towards the fane, a fact that made Ajax's ceramic teeth grind.

"They should stop wasting time," Ajax hissed.

"It right to show respects to Him on Terra," Iagion rebuked.

"They would serve Him better by getting their arses into gear," Ajax growled.

"All men must revere the God-Emperor…"

Ajax came to a sudden halt, "Do not call Him that! I have made my opinions known on the matter, repeatedly. The Storm Heralds are a martial Brotherhood; we serve the Golden Throne standing on the battlefield, not kneeling in prayer. Bolters not chapbooks, swords not thuribles, Ceramite not sackcloth! We fight, we kill, we die: that is what the Codex Astartes demands of us!"

Iagion bowed his head, "I stand contrite Brother-Sergeant."

His outburst had drawn many eyes but Ajax cared not, in fact he trusted his words would spread. The warrior despised the fawning creed that was taking hold in the Chapter, but alas this was an age of piety. The Storm Heralds were newborn, as the Imperium counted such matters, established in the sweeping reforms following the overthrow of Goge Vandire. A Founding of Chapters; to safeguard a weakened galaxy and also a knife placed against the throats of embittered Cardinals who might seek to emulate their fallen master. Unfortunately the stars were awash with renewed piety, the corruptions of yesteryear replaced with creeds of ardent faith and fanatical chastening. Cathedrals were rising on all planets, coffers overflowed with coin and even Space Marines found it pleasing to whisper of the deified Emperor.

Ajax stormed off, turning his head to military matters. Around him serfs finished clearing the vehicles as the first base structures began to darken the sky, brought down from the Battlebarge Light of Terra. Within the hour these gardens would be a fully operational forward operating base. Exactly as the Codex Astartes would have it. A fine display, only it was commanded by a pair of Marines Ajax loathed. At the centre he found them, two lords of the Chapter, surrounded by Honour Guards and junior Chaplains. An eagle-wing-faced warrior made to block his path but Ajax made the Marine step back with a feral growl. Few dared thwart Ajax's will, his legend mighty and his tongue as feared as Storm's Wrath, the weapon the Sergeant wielded with fury and zeal. Unfortunately his Masters were among the few who dared argue with him.

Chapter Master Lujan turned as Ajax approached his stern glower disapproving. The First Chapter Master of the Storm Heralds, every bit Ajax's equal in years but far his superior in authority and glory. His plate was dazzling, the blues awash with the reflected light of braking thrusters and the gold so perfectly sheened as to blind with reflections. His face was scarred by a thousand wars and his white hair was a shock of spikes, while at his hip hung a treasured relic weapon, gifted to the Chapter at the Founding from their Ultramarine progenitors: the mythical Sword of Thiel.

The other lord present was clad in black with a Rosarius hanging about his neck. This one's eyes were fiery, the gaze of a zealot born, and his scalp was tonsured to leave a thin strip of hair around the back of his skull. He seemed bursting with energy, as if about to launch into a sermon at any point, bubbling with glorious revelation that yearned to break free. Icons of death and the Emperor enthroned adorned his Ceramite plate and he carried the mighty Crozius Storm-Heart. Here then was Charael, High Chaplain and First Visionary of the Storm Heralds, someone Ajax very much wanted to punch in the face.

Lujan lifted an eyebrow as he approached, "Brother-Sergeant Ajax, I expected you to take off for the walls as soon as you set foot on this planet."

"Hard to do that when we don't know which direction the Orks are coming from," Ajax sniffed.

"The God-Emperor will provide revelation in time," Charael dismissed.

"Has he told you where you can shove your revelations?" Ajax sneered.

"Your disrespect for the sanctity of my office is a poor example for the Initiates."

"They can learn better from watching me swing a chainsword than they can kneeling as you harp on!" Ajax spat.

"Your tongue is most unbecoming a Storm Herald!" Charael admonished.

"And your preaching is unbecoming one of Roboute Guilliman's lineage!"

"Speak with more care… Sergeant."

"You speak whatever doggerel you see in your hallucinations; I can only say what I see with my own eyes!"

"Enough!" Lujan snapped, "I grow tired of your constant bickering. Charael, you know our belligerent Sergeant loves offending you, cease feeding him ammunition. Ajax, if you wished to berate a Chaplain you should have accepted the post of First Captain when I offered it to you."

"Being a Captain involves too much arse kissing, I prefer splitting heads," Ajax deflected, knowing this was an old game. Lujan, Charael and Ajax were of an age, the most venerable Marines in the Chapter. All three had been drawn from the populace of Silentium, the Chapter's homeworld, elevated to Astartes on Mars and sent back to build a bastion to stand a thousand years. Save those who dwelt in Dreadnought Chassis no others could claim to remember their Founding Day, and younger Brothers seemed mere children to them. As old men will the three argued constantly, thrashing out old grudges over and over, as bemused youngsters watched on.

"God-Emperor save me from irascible Sergeants," Lujan sighed, "Now to business: the Light of Terra reports the Ork fleet is massing, they cannot hold station for long. The Imperial fleet must finish landing all its forces before the day is out, then break orbit."

"What of the Orks?" Ajax asked.

"The spaceport fell before the PDF could secure it. The main body of the Orks will be at Coronam in days. We must meet the Governor and the Astra Militarum Generals soon to discuss strategy."

Charael chimed in, "The High Lords have ratified the Storm Heralds as theatre commanders, our Lord Lujan will be taking command of all lesser forces as Warmaster."

"Good fortune to you telling House Orhlacc that," Ajax snorted.

"I will impress upon them the importance of heeding my strategy," Lujan dismissed.

"Then try breaking out your gold cloak."

"I eschew vainglory, as well you know."

"Says the Space Marine with two planets named after him," Ajax quipped.

Lujan couldn't help a smirk creeping onto his face and for a moment Ajax almost liked him. Lujan was a fierce and wise master, with many notable campaigns and a tally of victories to make a Lord Militant green with envy. He truly deserved to bear that relic sword, so superior to the lesser imitations other Storm Heralds wielded. Storm's Wrath, Ajax's Eviscerator, was a copy of a copy of a copy of Rogal Dorn's weapon Storm's Teeth, and Iagion's Friction Axe was a similar imitation from one of Roboute Guilliman's collection. Charael's weapon was a priceless gift from Mars, but Lujan's sword was the genuine article. Yes, there was much for Ajax to admire about their Chapter Master but sadly he gave heed to Charael's ideas of Emperor Worship, the High Chaplain being the chief proponent of such fallacies. Worse Lujan accepted the visions Charael experienced as orders direct from the Golden Throne, whereas Ajax thought them mere lucky guessing. Lujan had a head filled with fancy ideas, none of which were fitting for an Astartes, in Ajax's opinion. Changing their homeworld's name from Silentium to Lujan II was a worrying sign. Then there was that joint project with the Mechanicus adept Lazar, and his cult of followers in the Lazarus Progression, an affair Ajax roundly condemned as Heretical but Lujan embraced wholeheartedly.

Sadly any further doubts were quashed as the Chapter Master's personal transport, a Land Raider anointed Pride of Lujan, opened its ramp. The Chapter Master set a foot upon the ramp but paused, "One more thing, there is another Astartes brotherhood at large in this war."

"Smoke Jaguars," Ajax grunted, "I heard."

"They too must come to heel," Lujan declared, "Second Captain Symun takes his Company to the city wall, but I require both of you to attend me at the conference and impress our cousins with our regal bearing. Ajax, Charael, be on your best behaviour and do not shame the Storm Heralds with your bickering."

With that Lujan swept into his Land Raider, followed by his Honour Guards. The ramp whirred shut and he was taken away as the tank reversed. Charael shot Ajax a look of disdain, then took off himself. Ajax was left with a gaggle of serfs, stewing in frustration. He hated formal conferences and strategic summits, one of the many reasons he'd refused a Captaincy. Sadly he was needed and Ajax could not refuse a Brother in need, orders or no. Resignedly Ajax grumbled, "Frak, this is going to be worse than fighting Orks."