Chapter 6 - The Thunder of Defiance
The chaos was relentless. Sergeant Varn and her squad of battered Imperial Guardsmen, with Eris at their side, stood against the cacophony of bloodshed. The hill on which the command center was perched had become a place of desperation. The defenders—hundreds of Imperial Guardsmen, Mechanicus Skitarii, and a handful of tanks and artillery—were holding on by a thread against the unending tide of chaos cultists, Bloodletters, and the towering form of a Khorne warp beast. The defenses had started to falter, the sound of metal, grinding and cracking under the pressure of the warp's intrusion, made the very planet groan.
The massive warp beast, a creature of muscle and brass, loomed over everything, exuding an aura of wrath that seemed to distort the very air around it. The atmosphere shimmered with a heat-haze effect, as though reality itself struggled under the beast's presence.
Sound warped unnaturally, with distant screams and gunfire muffled or distorted into eerie echoes, and even the light around the creature seemed to bend, casting shifting, elongated shadows. Its oppressive aura seemed to make every breath harder, as if the air itself was being twisted by its hatred.
From the distance, Eris could see the forces of Chaos pressing forward in waves, led by chaos champions and flanked by sorcerers whose dark energies twisted the surroundings further. The din of lasgun fire, artillery bombardments, and the deafening roars of the warp beast filled the air, drowning out any hope of reprieve.
Explosions rocked the battlefield as shells from the defenders' Basilisks landed amongst the approaching horde, sending dirt, fire, and limbs skyward. The sky above was tinged red from the fires burning across the trenches, and the ground beneath them trembled with every step the warp beast took, the earth seemingly groaning under its oppressive weight. The defenders' lines were strained, the once-proud trench networks becoming a shattered ruin of debris and corpses. Here and there, groups of Guardsmen and Mechanicus fought to hold their positions, lasguns flashing as they fired desperately into the oncoming tide of horrors as priests scrambled to operate heavy machinery in place of fallen crews or make improvised repairs to keep them firing at all.
"We've got to do something about that beast," Varn growled, her eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield. "The command center won't hold if it keeps this up."
Eris could see the strain in the sergeant's eyes, despite her steely demeanor. They all knew it was a losing battle, but they couldn't simply give up. Then, as her gaze swept the battlefield, she spotted it—a Basilisk artillery position, half-destroyed but still standing, its long barrel silhouetted against the burning sky. Cultists and lesser warp spawn were trying to overrun it, most of the crew was already dead, and its remaining defenders were barely holding on, but the artillery itself seemed largely intact.
"Sergeant!" Eris called out, pointing towards the distant artillery piece. "If we can secure that Basilisk, we might be able to take down the warp beast. We need something heavy enough to break it, and that might be our only chance."
Varn followed Eris's finger, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the gun. The Basilisk crew fought desperately, their lasguns flashing as they tried to hold off the cultists, but they were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. The cultists swarmed over the defenders, diving into the trenches as their crude weapons hacked down the artillerymen in a frenzy of blood and rage.
For a moment, Varn was silent, her gaze flickering between the artillery and the towering daemon. Then, with a grim nod, she turned to the remaining members of her squad—Castinius, Olgrin, and a handful of younger Guardsmen.
"Alright, we're moving," she ordered, her voice cutting through the noise. "Castinius, Olgrin, keep the squad together. We're taking that artillery position."
The squad moved swiftly, hugging the debris-strewn ground as they advanced. The air crackled with energy, the pressure of the warp beast's presence like a physical weight on their shoulders. The young Guardsmen, their faces pale and eyes wide, staggered as they struggled to keep up, their breaths ragged from exhaustion. They clutched their weapons tightly, following in the footsteps of their more experienced counterparts, whose own faces showed lines of strain. Eris's heart pounded in her chest, the voice in her head whispering taunts, doubts—
Varn followed Eris's finger, her eyes narrowing at the sight of the gun. The Basilisk crew fought desperately, their lasguns flashing as they tried to hold off the cultists, but they were overwhelmed by sheer numbers. The cultists swarmed over the defenders, diving into the trenches as their crude weapons hacked down the artillerymen in a frenzy of blood and rage.
moment, she was silent, her gaze flickering between the artillery and the towering daemon. Then, with a grim nod, she turned to the remaining members of her squad—Castinius, Olgrin, and a handful of younger Guardsmen.
She clenched her teeth, pushing the voice away. There was no time for fear, no time for doubt. The people around her were counting on her, and she couldn't afford to fail. Not now.
"We need to move, now!" Varn urged, her voice tense as she led them onward. The squad moved as quickly as they dared, navigating the chaos around them. Eris could hear the screams of dying soldiers, the guttural roars of the daemons, and the unsettling chants of the sorcerers.
The ground was littered with the dead—Imperial and Chaos alike—forming a grim tapestry that spoke of the brutality of the battle. Every so often, they were forced to waste precious time clearing a trench or artillery crater of cultists or bloodletters, but they painfully navigated their way towards the gun.
The cultists that had overrun the Basilisk were scattered, some climbing over the gun, others hacking at the fallen crew, and a few were actually bathing in the blood of the dead. Varn raised her hand, signaling a halt, and then gestured for Castinius and Olgrin to flank left. The two veterans nodded, splitting off silently to encircle the position. The tension was suffocating, every second stretching into eternity as they prepared to strike.
Eris took a deep breath, her hand tightening around her lasgun . She wasn't a soldier, but she had come this far—there was no turning back now. The smell of ozone and blood filled her senses, the chaotic energy of the warp seeming to press down on her mind, but she forced herself to focus.
"On my mark," Varn whispered, her eyes fixed on the cultists. The sergeant's voice was calm, even in the face of the madness surrounding them. "Three... two... one..."
The Guardsmen opened fire, lasguns lighting up the darkness as they cut into the cultists. Eris raised her galvanic rifle, aiming carefully before squeezing the trigger. One of the cultists dropped, a hole burned clean through his chest. The others turned in confusion, their screams drowned out by the crack of gunfire. Castinius and Olgrin moved in from the flanks, their shots precise and deadly, cutting down the remaining cultists before they had a chance to react.
"Move it! We're out of time!" Varn barked, her voice cutting through the chaos with an edge of urgency. In the distance, the Gigantic warp beast had broken open a massive gap in the outer defenses and now only a group of four brave tanks and their guard were between it and overrunning the whole line, and probably the HQ with it.
The squad rushed forward to secure the Basilisk. The artillery piece was massive up close, its barrel towering over them like a sentinel of war. Eris could see the damage—scorch marks, bent metal—but it looked operational. She rushed to the cogitator controls, her fingers flying over the runes and switches as she assessed the machine's condition.
Sparks erupted from damaged components as she worked, and at one point, the cogitator flickered out entirely, causing her heart to skip a beat. She gritted her teeth, slamming her fist against the console, coaxing the machine-spirit back to life with a mix of determination and desperation. One of the Privates kicked a jammed lasgun out of the rotational mechanisms as they made sure the gun was even still functional.
"Seems alright." He joked, half smile on his face behind soot and exhaustion.
"Come on, come on..." she muttered under her breath, her eyes scanning the readouts. The machine-spirit of the Basilisk was reluctant, its essence flickering weakly in response to her commands. It had been wounded, just like everything else on this battlefield, but Eris wasn't about to give up. She began to chant softly, invoking the rituals of the Mechanicus, coaxing the machine back to life.
Awaken, spirit of iron. The Omnissiah's will compels you. Let your fury be unleashed.
The cogitator screen flickered, the machine-spirit responding slowly to her pleas. Eris could feel the resistance, the stubbornness of the wounded spirit, but she pressed on, her voice steady, her hands moving with purpose. Slowly, the artillery's systems began to power up, the hum of machinery rising beneath the din of battle.
"It's working," she called out, her eyes still fixed on the controls. "But we need to load the shell manually. The autoloader's offline."
"Olgrin, Castinius, you heard her," Varn ordered, her voice sharp. "Get that shell loaded."
The two veterans moved to the ammunition cache, each grabbing one end of a massive Earthshaker shell. The younger Guardsmen joined them, their faces straining with the effort as they lifted the shell and guided it towards the breach. The ground shook beneath them as an explosion erupted nearby, the warp beast roaring in the distance, its voice like thunder echoing across the battlefield.
"We don't have much time," Varn muttered, her eyes flicking towards the approaching horde. The chaos forces were pushing forward, the cultists and Bloodletters charging towards the hill, their war cries mingling with the roar of the warp beast. The defenses around the command center were beginning to buckle, the trench lines overrun by the sheer weight of the enemy's numbers. The Tanks wouldn't last long without infantry.
Finally, with a heavy clunk, the shell was loaded into the Basilisk. Olgrin gave a thumbs-up, sweat streaming down his face. Eris nodded, her hands flying over the controls as she adjusted the targeting cogitator. The warp beast was still a distance away, but its massive form made it an easy target—if they could just get the shot off in time. One of the guardsmen cleared a Bloodletter off a nearby dual-mounted heavy bolter, clearing it and taking a deep breath.
The machine-spirit of the Basilisk groaned, the targeting array flickering as Eris struggled to bring it online. For a heartbeat, she doubted herself, her hand hovering over the controls as the enormity of the task threatened to overwhelm her. But then she clenched her jaw, pushing the fear away. 'No, I can do this,' she thought, determination hardening her resolve as she pressed on. The voice in her head returned, mocking her efforts.
You think you can control this? You're nothing but a child playing with things beyond your understanding.
"Shut up," Eris hissed through gritted teeth, her focus unwavering. "I won't let you win. Not today." She could feel the tension in the air, the weight of every life depending on this one shot. The weight of it was...overwhelming...
The targeting reticle finally locked onto the warp beast, the red rune flashing as the Basilisk confirmed its target. Bringing her back to reality.
"Ready!" she shouted, her voice barely audible over the roar of the approaching horde.
Varn didn't hesitate. "Fire!"
Olgrin pulled the lever. The Basilisk shuddered violently, its entire frame recoiling as the Earthshaker shell erupted from the barrel. The shockwave rippled through the ground, causing the nearby Guardsmen to brace themselves, their ears ringing from the deafening roar. Dust and debris were thrown into the air, and for a brief second, the world seemed to hold its breath. The tension gripped everyone as they watched the shell arc high above, cutting through the smoke-choked sky, its trajectory set towards the towering warp beast.
The recoil shook the entire artillery piece, the deafening roar of the shot drowning out all other sounds. For a moment, time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the sight of the shell arcing through the air, its path aimed directly at the towering warp beast.
And then, silence. The shell hurtled towards its target, the fate of the command center—of all of them—hanging in the balance.
