Chapter 20: The First Six hours - Part 2: The First Volley (Magos Harspes' Perspective)

I am the pulse within the wires, the whisper in the conduits, the echo in the data-vaults of this ancient sanctum. The Basilica of Saint Jessamine breathes around me, a dormant colossus stirring from millennia of slumber. My mechadendrites interface with the primary cogitator arrays, metallic tendrils humming with the slow rhythm of awakening machine spirits. The sensations are a symphony of code and canticles—a language of logic that transcends mere human perception.

Yet, despite my enhancements, I sense a fractional delay in response times—a minute but unacceptable inefficiency. Directing the myriad systems of the basilica taxes even my augmented faculties. The defensive emplacements, the void shields, the auspex arrays—all demand precise calibration and constant oversight. The flesh is weak, but even steel and silicon have their limits.

Solution: implement auxiliary processing units.

"Harspes-1B through Harspes-10B, divert from current tasks and converge upon the mausoleum," I transmit through the noosphere, the command encoded in binharic pulses. Ten of my servo-skull surrogates acknowledge immediately, their cloned cerebral matrices responding as extensions of my own mind.

Moments later, they arrive—ten skulls drifting silently into the chamber, optical lenses glowing with cold intellect. Each houses a perfect replica of my neural architecture, bio-clones of my cortex encased in adamantium and plasteel. They are me, and yet they are subroutines—threads of consciousness woven into my own.

"Initiate direct neural link," I command.

Fiber-thin data tethers unfurl from my spinal ports, connecting to each skull. The interface is immediate—a torrent of data floods my mind as the eleven become one. Processing power multiplies exponentially. The strain dissipates, replaced by a clarity bordering on transcendence.

"Designation confirmed: Harspes-1A through Harspes-10B," I intone. "Begin systems optimization."

A chorus of internal voices responds in perfect unison. We turn our collective focus to the basilica's vast infrastructure. The walls resonate with the hum of awakening power relays, conduits channeling energy to long-dormant circuits. Machine spirits, neglected for over a millennium, stir at our touch.

Auspex arrays activate, sensoriums casting webs of perception across the surrounding sectors. I perceive the world through myriad eyes—a tapestry of electromagnetic fields, bio-readings, and spectral analyses. Yet anomalies persist. The mist that shrouds the enemy's approach disrupts our sensors, returning false positives and ghost signals. Thermal imaging is ineffective; the fog absorbs and scatters infrared wavelengths, rendering our auspex near-blind.

At the gates, the defenders falter. I monitor their vox communications, the chaotic interplay of commands and counter-commands. The High Priestess Riley issues an order to prepare the gates for opening—a tactically unsound decision. Emotional compromise detected: compassion overriding logic.

"Foolishness," I mutter, my vocalizer rendering the word in a flat monotone.

A countermand comes swiftly—Constantia Samara defies the order, initiating offensive action against the approaching civilians. Calculations predict a 78.43% increase in immediate survival probability due to her intervention. Yet the chain of command fractures, disorder spreading like a virus.

"Organic inefficiency," observes Harspes-3B.

"Agreed," I respond. "Override external control protocols."

We access the gate mechanisms directly, severing auxiliary command pathways. Control blisters not linked to the mausoleum are deactivated. Only from here, within the heart of the basilica, can the gates now be manipulated.

"Security lockdown initiated," announces Harspes-7B.

I sense the machine spirits acquiescing to our authority, their compliance a testament to the righteousness of our cause. The basilica responds like a living organism, its systems aligning under our unified command.

"Harspes-3B, analyze the mist's composition," I instruct.

"Scanning," comes the immediate response. "Composition indicates high levels of warp energy interference. Standard sensor arrays compromised."

"Adjust scanning protocols to include multi-spectrum analysis," I order. "Compensate for interference variables."

"Compensation insufficient," reports Harspes-5B. "Data remains inconclusive."

"Noted."

Through the obscuring veil, I detect movement—masses of bio-signatures advancing toward the basilica. The enemy's strategy becomes apparent. They drive civilians before them as human shields, exploiting the defenders' hesitation. Already, the initial volleys have begun; I observe as the defenders, prompted by Constantia Samara's actions, open fire upon the advancing masses.

"Emotional response detected among defenders," notes Harspes-2B. "Potential decrease in combat effectiveness due to moral conflict."

"Monitor and adjust as necessary," I reply.

As the enemy presses closer, their true intent reveals itself. The horde does not engage in ranged combat; instead, they surge forward with reckless abandon, many not wielding their weapons effectively. Their goal is clear: to reach the walls en masse, to die against them and form ramps of their own corpses for others to scale.

As the calculations churn, I monitor the enemy movements beyond the walls. The civilian shield has fragmented, their corpses lying scattered where defenders cut them down. Now, the true assault begins—waves of fanatics throwing themselves at the gate and walls. My sensors detect little weapon discharge from the horde. Most advance heedlessly, clutching crude melee implements or firing wildly, their intent clearly not to engage but to reach the walls themselves.

Their purpose becomes evident. The enemy does not seek merely to breach the gate; they aim to render the walls irrelevant. Corpses already begin to pile at the base, a growing mass of flesh and bone that presses upward. My predictive algorithms calculate a 92.17% probability that this is deliberate.

"Enemy tactics identified," I state. "High probability of intentional mass casualty generation to facilitate siege ramp construction."

"Logical," concurs Harspes-1B. "Recommend deployment of area-denial weaponry to disrupt accumulation of bodies at wall base."

"Agreed. Activate heavy bolter emplacements and flame projectors along lower battlements. Limit engagement to infantry-level defenses."

"Compliance."

The basilica's machine spirits respond to our commands. Heavy bolters thud rhythmically, explosive rounds tearing into the oncoming horde. Streams of promethium ignite, washing the battlefield in sheets of flame. The air fills with the acrid scent of burning flesh and propellant.

Yet, the enemy shows no signs of faltering. They charge heedlessly into the maelstrom, bodies piling atop one another in grotesque mounds.

"Enemy casualty rate exceeding projections," observes Harspes-7B. "Assault momentum remains undiminished."

"Unusual," I remark. "Assess for potential warp influence enhancing enemy morale."

"Assessment supports hypothesis," confirms Harspes-4B.

Then, a new variable enters the equation. From the heaps of fallen adversaries, colossal figures begin to rise—Flesh Golems, towering constructs formed from amalgamated corpses. They stand ten meters tall, grotesque parodies of life animated by foul energies.

"Alert: Emergence of bio-warp entities designated as 'Flesh Golems,'" announces Harspes-6B. "Threat level elevated."

The basilica's heavy bolters swivel into new targeting tracks, their barrels spitting streams of explosive rounds into the advancing golems. They stagger but press forward, seemingly impervious to small arms fire. It is only when an automated flame emplacement spews a torrent of promethium over one of the constructs that it falters, collapsing into a writhing heap of fire and melting sinew only after the application of three additional flamer emplacements.

"Fire yields optimal results," observes Harspes-2B. "Adjust all bolter and launcher systems to incendiary payloads where feasible."

"Further analysis," I demand.

"Entities possess significant physical resilience," reports Harspes-9B. "Conventional infantry weapons ineffective. Recommend concentrated firepower."

"Current defensive measures inadequate for neutralization," adds Harspes-8B. "Massed slaughter of enemy infantry causative relationship confirmed with golem manifestation. Number of golems increasing in proportion to enemy casualties."

I calculate swiftly. The use of heavier ordnance is warranted, yet premature activation of high-yield defenses risks revealing our full capabilities to an enemy whose own strength remains undetermined.

"Activate a singular plasma launcher, designate: Delta-Five," I decide. "Calibrate firing solutions to target structural coordinates beyond immediate engagement zones."

"Priority confirmed," replies Harspes-9B. "Plasma launcher operational. Targeting structural markers."

The plasma launcher awakens with a deep, resonant hum. Its capacitors charge, the growing energy visible as a pulsating blue glow. A moment later, a section of all slides aside and it discharges—a blinding lance of plasma arcing into the mist. The impact is obscured, but secondary explosions follow moments later. Fires bloom faintly beyond the veil, illuminating shifting forms in the distance.

"Intent?" inquires Harspes-5B.

"Assess enemy reactions to advanced weaponry deployment," I explain. "Secondary objective: ignite surrounding structures to illuminate battlefield and penetrate mist cover."

"Acknowledged."

A second bolt of searing energy lances out, disappearing into the shroud. Moments later, further explosions bloom—a flare of light piercing the darkness.

"Thermal readings indicate ignition of combustible materials," reports Harspes-3B. "Visibility improved by 12.4% in targeted sector."

"Maintain sporadic firing intervals," I order. "Alternate targets to maximize illumination."

"Executing," confirms Harspes-10B.

"Monitor for enemy tactical adjustments," I instruct.

"Negative immediate response detected," notes Harspes-2B. "Enemy continues assault unaltered."

"Interesting."

The Flesh Golems continue to rise and advance, massive limbs propelling them toward the walls with unnerving speed. They wade through the sea of bodies, indifferent to the defensive fire peppering their forms.

"Direct heavy bolter emplacements to focus on Flesh Golems' lower extremities," I command. "Objective: impede mobility."

"Executing."

Streams of explosive rounds impact the golems' legs, but with limited effect. Their unnatural composition absorbs the damage, reconstituting almost as quickly as they are torn apart.

"Efficiency insufficient," states Harspes-1B.

"Recommend deployment of area denial incendiary munitions," suggests Harspes-7B. "Promethium-based weaponry of greater scale may disrupt warp-bonded tissue."

"Negative," I reply. "Avoid escalation beyond established parameters."

Flame projectors adjust aim, jets of superheated promethium engulfing the nearest golem. The creature staggers, portions of its form sloughing off in charred chunks. Yet it persists, driven by unholy energies.

"Partial success of individual turrets, collaboration with adjacent defenses required," observes Harspes-9B. "Overlapping fields of fire required."

"Continue suppression," I order. "Divert additional flame units as needed."

Amidst the inferno, the enemy's strategy becomes clearer. The golems serve as focal points, drawing our fire and resources while the masses continue to pile against the walls. Already, the bodies accumulate at an alarming rate.

"Calculate time until corpse accumulation reaches breachable levels," I instruct.

"At current rate, assuming no degradation in enemy commitment, estimated 2.7 hours," reports Harspes-6B.

"Unacceptable. Implement low-grade area-denial measures at wall base. Deploy fragmentation grenades via automated launchers, focus on mass disruption over enemy formations."

"Deploying."

Launchers thump rhythmically, saturating the ground before the walls with shrapnel-laden explosives. The detonations churn the terrain, displacing bodies and hindering accumulation.

"Effectiveness optimized," notes Harspes-4B. "Accumulation rate reduced by 38%."

"Maintain fire pattern."

Despite our efforts, the enemy's numbers seem inexhaustible. The auspex arrays struggle to provide accurate counts—the interference from the mist and warp energies compounds the difficulty.

"Auger arrays continue to return inconsistent data," reports Harspes-5B. "Enemy strength remains indeterminate."

"Attempting recalibration," adds Harspes-3B. "Results unchanged."

"A deliberate obfuscation," I conclude. "The enemy conceals their true capabilities."

"Possibility of additional, unaccounted-for assets exceeds 95.22%," suggests Harspes-2B.

"Agreed. We must not reveal our full defensive potential prematurely."

I observe the defenders atop the walls. The Sisters of Battle hold their positions, bolters firing in disciplined volleys. Less-armored militia provide supporting fire, lasguns adding to the storm. Canoness Helena leads the Zephyr Squad in swift strikes, their flamers scorching swathes through the horde below, focusing on the flesh golems outside the range of the automated flamer emplacements.

"Defender morale stable," observes Harspes-8B. "No immediate signs of collapse."

"Maintain current support," I reply. "Adjustments to be made as situation evolves."

An alert pings—an attempted override of gate controls from an external source.

"Unauthorized access detected," states Harspes-7B.

"Block all external control inputs," I command. "Ensure gate mechanisms remain under mausoleum authority only."

"Lockdown continues."

I consider the broader tactical situation. The enemy's relentless assault, the emergence of Flesh Golems, and the persistent mist all point to capabilities beyond standard heretical forces. Yet they refrain from deploying heavy weaponry or advanced tactics.

"Conclusion: Enemy is testing our defenses," I surmise. "As we are testing theirs."

"Recommendation?" prompts Harspes-1B.

"Continue current defensive posture. Conserve higher-tier assets until enemy reveals additional threats."

"Acknowledged."

The plasma launcher fires intermittently, each blast illuminating sections of the battlefield and the structures beyond. Fires take hold, casting a flickering glow that battles against the oppressive darkness.

"Visibility improved," notes Harspes-5B. "Thermal imaging remains compromised, but optical sensors show enhanced performance."

"Adjust targeting solutions accordingly."

As the fires spread, glimpses of enemy formations appear beyond the immediate assault—silhouettes of massed infantry held in reserve and other, larger outlines whose size indicates mechanical or perhaps biological abominations, however their unstructured outlines remain reminiscent of orkoid construction.

"Enemy reserves detected," reports Harspes-6B. "Unable to ascertain exact numbers or composition."

"Data insufficient for decisive action," I state. "Maintain observation."

The Flesh Golems continue their advance, though combined efforts of flame units and concentrated fire begin to take a toll. One golem collapses, its form disintegrating under sustained promethium exposure.

"Seventieth target neutralized," announces Harspes-9B.

"Reassign fire to prioritize targets based on proximity to likely ramp locations."

"Compliance."

The battle grinds on—a slow, relentless test of endurance and resource management. Both sides probe for weaknesses, neither committing fully to an all-out engagement.

"Harspes-3B, analyze enemy movement patterns. Is there evidence of centralized control?"

"Analysis suggests decentralized coordination. High probability of warp influence guiding collective actions."

"Clarify: you suggest a hive-mind construct?"

"Possible, but unconfirmed."

"Maintain scrutiny: dedicate cognitive nodes to predictive behavior analysis. Intent: locate focal point or points of enemy coordination and control, generate probable locations of enemy neural hubs or control organisms."

I am acutely aware of the limitations imposed by the situation. The enemy's capabilities remain shrouded, much like the mist that conceals them. To commit our full arsenal now would be unwise; better to let the enemy reveal more of themselves first.

"Time until corpse accumulations reach critical levels?" I inquire.

"Adjusted estimate: 3.1 hours due to current countermeasures," responds Harspes-10B.

"Monitor closely. Adjust area-denial tactics to extend timeline further."

"Understood."

I feel the basilica around me—a slumbering leviathan stirring but not yet fully awake. The machine spirits are cautious, their ancient souls stirring, straining, their desire for a full offensive response not aligning with my own strategy.

"Patience," I murmur. "The time to unleash our true strength has not yet arrived."

"Agreed," echoes Harspes-1B.

An alert interrupts—a spike in warp energy readings from within the mist.

"Anomaly detected," announces Harspes-8B. "Potential manifestation of additional warp entities."

"Probability of immediate threat?"

"Low at present. Readings suggest preparatory activity. Wavelength output low, frequency between trough and peek indicates repetition in energy fluctuations. Data suggests, ritual deployment."

"Continue monitoring. Do not escalate defensive measures beyond current parameters."

"Acknowledged."

I am immersed in the flow of data—the endless calculations, the symphony of steel and code. The battle is a grand equation, variables in constant flux. Yet within the maelstrom, there is a harmony—a symbiosis between myself and the awakened leviathan. I am unconcerned with my own survival or that of the flesh-bound entities around me. What matters is function—the fulfillment of purpose.

"Let the flesh-bound grapple with fear and doubt," I murmur. "We serve the Omnissiah's will."

The machine spirits resonate in agreement—a deep, resonant affirmation reverberating through every circuit and conduit.

I am the leviathan, and the leviathan is me.