A/N: Sorry if the editing is bad. Had to jus get this onto text.
If I, the legendary Rogue Trader Ciaphas Cain, had been asked at what point his life took such a dramatic turn, And I was inclined to be honest, I would say that it had been the moments that they had accidentally defeated Lucius the Eternal. The odds of ever meeting such a monstrosity were so astronomically slim, but no institution could have been expected to prepare the Commissar to fight such a being. And yet, his defeat was probably the moment my life took the most dramatic charm, even including my association, with the Inquisition as Amberley's occasional catspaw.
When we first were deployed to the Pucca system, it seemed like an incredibly easy job. Some pieces of Archeotech had been uncovered there, found by a low-level group of tech priests and after much debating, complaining, and probably more than a bit of threatening each other, it was eventually decided that while the operation would be run through the Mechanicus, seeing as how it was an imperial world, using imperial resources and operating under an imperial fleet, the imperial guard would send a small security force, no more than three regiments. The process lasted just as long, although the 597th was surprisingly one of the few forces that all parties involved seemed to agree on. Our Sterling reputation for facing the worst enemies the galaxy could throw at us put us in good standing, not to mention my heavily inflated reputation, and my history of working with the reclaimers, apparently convincing all parties involved that I would be partial to their way of thinking, and would likely side with them, Should they come to blows over whatever technology they had been excavating for. The other two regiments which were selected to be sent to the planet of Propellin, were a bit less intuitive.
We were joined by the Volpone 50th 'Bluebloods' who seemed to regard this entire deployment as some kind of slight against them and for some reason a group of Catachan jungle fighters, who were not equipped for the minus 20 conditions, that seemed to be the hemisphere's standard. Needless to say, in the interest of having Catachans live long enough that we could use them to the fullest, or at least, as far as you can on a world that lacks jungle, we quickly gift from a significant amount of great coats, and winter equipment, which they took very willingly. They promptly stopped interacting with us after that, seeming to regard us as not up to their standards of strength, but that's one of the unfortunate traits of coming from a death world, you tend to believe that you are the apex predator even though events later show that they very much were not.
The world of Propellin wasn't even all that unpleasant. While I couldn't be asked to remember every little community we passed through, the main exploration encampment was set up around an already developed city, with its own infrastructure, and all the niceties of civilization, despite the fact that it was also sufficiently cold to please my Valhalla and compatriots. It even had enough infrastructure that I was able to find a few discreet gambling establishments to spend my off hours in. Overall, even though we were stuck with two regiments, one who seemed to view our presence as an insult, and mine specifically as a slap in the face, and another that hadn't even been equipped for cold weather conditions, things looked like they would be going fairly well. The mechanicus delegation was even fairly polite and while I couldn't remember any of their names considering that they had at first introduced themselves in the chittering language of Binaric, they were also Pleasant enough, didn't make any demands of us and seemed enthusiastic about what they were doing which since it didn't involve me dying, I considered a very positive trait. The Magos even shared the maps of their excavation, which showed that they had dug massive pits around the entirety of the shrine, some of them going as far as 60 or 70 metres deep. They also laughed when I asked if we were going to be requested to patrol those caves, seeing as how even three regiments would not have been enough to properly man such cavernous areas. They informed me that, no we were just there to guard the upper areas and keep the locals from getting too many ideas about trying to overwhelm the Skitari task force and steal the newly discovered archeotech. We would likely spend the next six months to a year just sitting around, waiting for the tech priest to finish digging whatever they found out of the dirt, and then we'll be on our way, all without too much trouble.
And then the fracking space marines showed up. I'd first gotten some inkling that things were going Ploin-shaped when Emili visited me in my dreams. While she had never exactly left my subconscious, especially after finding out that she could effectively observe me, and had been doing so since I had killed her the first time, Her presence in my nightmares augured nothing positive for our continued expedition. The fact that I had to warn the regimental command staff that I had had a nightmare, that things were about to get significantly worse was an odd conversation, but one that both Kasteen and Broklaw took surprisingly well. Apparently, word of the nightmares I had experienced before Emili's first attempted resurrection had spread throughout the Regiment, and so they were liable to take me at my word. I suppose, having been reported to have stopped the demon princess last time meant that most people were willing to take my word on the subject when it came to her.
The other regiments, not so much. The Catachan command staff were polite, but clearly thought that I had snapped at some point, and they were really only humouring me because of our gift of the winter coat that had stopped them all from dying within the first couple hours of arriving. The Bluebloods on the other hand were completely dismissive and effectively told me to go frack myself and to not bother them again. I traded heavily on my reputation to try to get them to understand just how much danger I thought they were in, but arrogant fools are plentiful throughout this galaxy. Which I suppose is part of the reason I seem to encounter them so often. The Bluebloods were such an old regiment, and that mentality had also permeated into how they thought of themselves. Even though in theory, all three of the regiments were equal, and none had seniority over the other, the fact that much of the liaison work had been handled by the 597th had given them the impression that this was our show, and everybody else was just here as muscle. Furthering this, the fact that the Magos of the expedition had shown the first recovered piece of Archaeo tech, a stasis field generator to our command team first, as opposed to showing it to the Bluebloods first had stuck in their craw, and further exacerbated the feeling that they were being shunned, in favour of a far younger regiment, which didn't have the same honours or noble pedigree as they did.
Even now, decades later, I still find myself thinking about that exchange, and wondering if there was more I could've done. If I could've convinced them somehow if I just kept at it. I know consciously that it wouldn't have mattered. They had decided that they didn't want anything to do with us, and nothing I could've said would've changed their mind or made them listen to reason. But to have watched what happened next to them still makes it hard not to feel that I should've done something more. Maybe I could've tried to invoke my association with the Inquisition, or even mine work with Lord General Zyvan to get them into line. But neither of those were exactly helping my case, especially as the issue for them was us having perceived seniority and authority over them. Still, it's not a moment I look back on fondly.
Speaking of the Lord General and Amberley, as soon as I was done trying and failing to convince the two regiments to listen to me, I sent a pair of frantic Astropathic messages to them. I naturally couldn't just tell them that I had gotten a bad dream and thus suspected that the grand enemy of mankind was going to start raining death upon the planet where I was standing, but a bit of creative wording made it clear that I had my suspicions that's something was going to happen, without explicitly stating that my source was having a bad dream. I knew it was probably not going to amount to much, considering that a relieving Force could take up to 6 months even just to form, but there was no real harm in trying. Even though Amberley was part of the Ordo Xeno as opposed to Hereticus or Malleus, I also felt it probably wise to give some kind of warning about what I suspected was happening, even if all she did was just pass it to the appropriate person. I wasn't getting any help from the other regiments on the planet, so the least I could do was warn the greater Imperium about what I suspected was happening.
The Valhallans, in contrast to the other two regiments, seem to have taken the warning, 'the Commissar had a bad dream', as all the explanation they needed for creating the closest proximity to a fortress that we could make, given the resources available to us. These were considerable, considering that the Mechanicus was also at least willing to humour the requests of Jenit Sulla, and her requisitioning of any heavy engineering vehicle which was not currently involved in the excavation. I pretended not to notice how some Scittari were mapping out firing positions and barracks locations for more permanent construction. It seemed pretty minor, considering that they were helping us. Besides, we were essentially constructing a new fortification for them, and it would be natural to just let them take it when we were sent off the planet to our next campaign. No sense in destroying a fortification just because you're no longer there.
Eventually, the moment that I am feared, and dreaded, and which most of the other imperial guard units had considered impossible occurred. Over the planet, a warped signature was detected, one bearing the identification code of a ship lost so long ago that most of our records didn't extend that far back. The few installations in the system that had that level of venerated seniority, were able to positively identify it. It was a heavy cruiser class and last was reported as belonging to the Emperor's Children Legion during the Horus heresy. The name had first been met with cheers by some of the crews manning the communication and Auspecks at the time before I had to inform them that while they had kept the name, the 'Emperor's Children' were one of the traitor legions, and specifically one known for intense depravity and destruction. The cheers ended quite quickly after that part.
With the news of the ship's arrival, the entirety of the expedition flew into panic and desperation. The Volpone Commissar began making rousing speeches about the chance for honour and glory, which would have been far more effective if he hadn't been speaking to only a handful of men. The rest had been grabbed to desperately try to replicate the fortifications we had already constructed. The Catachans were only slightly better, having realized that what was originally supposed to be a very light Garrison duty was now going to throw them directly into combat with Space Marines, they began interrogating any Valhallan they could get their hands on for tips about Arctic warfare. While they had some ideas about how to use the winter environment, their generations of training had all been for jungle and jungle-like environments.
The Mechanicus proved slightly better, as some of them seemed to grasp the situation better than others. At least the Skitarri were fairly helpful. They seemed to have understood that they were going to have their fates intertwined with ours for the foreseeable future, and went about preparing whatever equipment they could from the supplies they had on hand. A few of the lower-level tech-priests had managed to convert some mining servitors into various combat forms, although they admitted that it was very poorly done by their standards. Still, the addition of 100 combat servitors with giant, crushing claws, heavy bolters, and enough strength, and forced to break apart several feet of Rock, were not exactly unwelcome additions to our manpower.
All of that was unofficial though, with the first official act coming as a Senior Magos came strutting into a higher command suite to inform us that a defensive task force was being dispatched from their nearby holdings. And the Magos in charge proudly informed us that a fleet set to relieve us would arrive within three months, as if that was going to be soon enough to save any of us. The Traitors were set to land within the week, and we were informed that the earliest we could get any kind of reinforcements was three months from now.
"You don't seem very enthused." the Magos noted, when his proclamation of our imminent salvation, several months too late, was given. "By the time your reinforcements get here, will be dead, and buried. The traitors will probably already be on their way out of the system by then, so we won't even get posthumous revenge." the major commented as if trying to explain basic maths to somebody who simply refused to learn numbers. "That is impossible. Our cogitators have calculated the traitor's advance down to the kilometre, we will be well outside of their advance by the time that the reinforcements have landed." The Major and Colonel exchanged a skeptical glance at one another before I decided to help ease the Magos into understanding.
"For your assessment, you have concluded that they will attack the major cities first, and then move to our position, correct?"
"Of course. It is the logical way for them to conduct such a means of warfare."
"Then I hate to inform you otherwise, but typically speaking, one of the Traitor Legions doesn't tend to show up just to raid some outlying colony planet in the middle of nowhere."
"Then what are you suggesting? If they're here for us. The calculations should still be valid, admittedly, with significantly less buffer time in between."
"I am going to assume that the calculations didn't account for them simply using shuttlecraft to land at our position, or use drop pods as Space Marines are known to do, correct?"
"Of course not, that heavy cruiser was not equipped with sufficient shuttles to land a full invasion force nor space marine drop pods in its loadout."
"So you're using an imperial equipment load out, to guess what Traitors who have had that ship for longer than any of us have been alive, are going to do?"
"Of course I did. It's standard policy to use such loadouts when considering the movement of forces. Why would…. Oh. I see. Apologies. I will attempt to re-calculate. Please stand by."
The Magos seemed to drift off for a moment, before looking back at us with the closest approximation of worry, I think that a face with that much metal could manage. "Oh. This is bad. We are, as you say, completely fracked."
That was one of the last attempts at getting some good news to our formation. Everyone else seemed to have expected that things were not going to go particularly well, and outside of personal salvation from the Emperor, we were on our own. Every day for that long week, I couldn't remember looking up to the sky, as if expecting to see the orbiting, heavy cruiser, ready to discharge its load of men and material down onto us. Of course, I hadn't suddenly gained the ability to see into space, so that was singularly unlikely to happen, but despite that conscious knowledge, every day, I watched the sky and waited for it to come.
Eventually though, they did come. It was the ninth morning after the Blighted Warship had transitioned into real space, that I was woken with the sound of sirens, as our Auspecks picked up their trip ships entering into our local airspace. He was waiting at my door by the time I managed to find my pants and coat, Jurgen was already prepared with a bowl of Tanna for me. For him, this entire event was more like a minor annoyance rather than a potentially life-threatening scenario. Like somebody remembering that they left their keys in the other pocket, so his departure time is going to be delayed by a couple of minutes.
Where I expected to see Thunderhawks, and various other ships descending from the heavens, I was instead treated to the sight of a pink tempest emerging from the clouds. I didn't need years of campaign experience to tell me that this was not a natural occurrence. The fact that it seemed to form the face of Emili, glaring down at me, was a fairly strong indicator on the subject. She had been showing up in my nightmares for the past month now, but seeing her take up the entirety of the skyline, and very publicly glaring down at me, was a fairly strong indicator that this was at least partially her doing.
And then, across the field, slashes in reality seemed to open, as demons poured out onto the field. They were more like a tidal wave of ciatin and pink flesh than organized units, dozens of streams of them, charging towards our improvised fortifications, seemingly just as desperate as the Khornate Berserkers I had encountered so long ago, to close with us, and engage us in close quarters combat. Our Advantage in this matter was that we had spent the better part of a month preparing our fortifications, and as such we have already sighted out our firing ranges and laid minefields, along with having a significant height advantage from the improvised walls we had constructed. Unfortunately, the other two regiments were nowhere near as prepared. The Volpone Bluebloods had the worst of it, even if they did put up an improvised defence. Their heavy infantry were simply not mobile enough to reconfigure in time. Their companies were cut off from each other, almost immediately, and then like watching a master ice carver split apart a single block into a statue, we watched as each company was split apart into its platoons, sections, and eventually individual fire teams. It was horrifying to watch, especially as there didn't seem to be actual intelligence behind it, simply, observing built-in instinct towards this beautiful yet terrifying display. Volpone heavy armour and lasgun fire were effective at keeping the first couple of waves away, but all it took was the daemonettes getting lucky, and entering their lines for the entire section to begin falling apart.
The Catachan jungle fighters fared a little better. As much as they have made every attempt to learn how to conduct Arctic warfare, this simply was not their preferred battlefield. These enemies were so far removed from their specialty that there wasn't much they could really do in such a direct fight. There were no lines of strategic support to retreat and next to nothing to use to narrow their forces into ambushes and traps. This was simply a slugging match, with the demons of Slaanesh, throwing themselves against our walls, and with us having to fire back. With their fierce independence, they had neglected to join us inside the fortress and instead attempted to draw the enemy towards the forests. And see if we had been facing an army, to which the concept of armour or restraint, had meant something, that might've been an effective plan. Unfortunately, these demons were not so inclined, and simply charged straight through. They had prepared traps and ambushes. For every one that fell to a prepared position, was struck by a mine, or fell into a pit, ten more roared out from the portals to take their place. They surged to the nearby forest, more like the creeping tendrils of a Tyranid Hive Fleet than an organised Army. The last we heard of their prepared defences was a large thudding sound, as the survivors detonated their ammo reserves, in a desperate attempt to take as many of them with them as possible. And like that, we were pretty much alone.
Most of the tech priests, for their part, had decided that this battle was something which either didn't concern them, or they didn't feel they could make a meaningful contribution to. As such, their response had been to seal the giant Ceramite doors, and just get back to what they were doing before. Looking at the map they had given us, I couldn't help but agree with their assessment, At least, from a pragmatic point of view. They had the entire surrounding area hollowed out with massive catacombs and so, even if the worst happened, they reasonably could just barr the doors and hide out with whatever supplies they had squirrelled away down there, and just wait For the relief fleet to arrive. So that might've been quite emotionally difficult to abandon the 60 m tall cave that they had dug into the rock, searching for any scrap of ancient technology. This would have been years, if not decades of work, and so their fervent desire to continue digging, even as the sky was now glaring at us, was an understandable, if not exactly appreciated the point. The fact that they had given us the password to get in, if we felt we had to hide inside the caves as well was at least appreciated sentiment. I had already had most of our personal items and food supplies moved inside, along with a sufficiently large amount of reserve ammunition, and weapons just in case we had to try and wait out the Chaos Legion from inside that Mechanicus shrine.
We were now essentially by ourselves, except for the small Skitarri task force who had elected to stay with us, and a handful of local militiamen who had been sent by the governor to keep an eye on us. Fortunately, we had taken the time to prepare, and with an actual understanding of what was to come, our defences were prime, just for the sort of combat. For the worshippers of Slannesh, literal barriers would only mean so much if there was no other way to deal with that. If the walls could not be breached, they would simply clamber up them to get to us, or if they could not climb them, they would go under. Thus, defensive works did not need to be impenetrable and instead hard, clear lines of advance that we could use to channel the demons into prepared fire lanes, along with the appropriate armour, to prevent them from reaching these lines and advancing beyond where we wanted them to.
By the third day, it seemed as if our plans had gone surprisingly well. Of the four rings of defence we had set up, most of the first defensive line was still holding. While some breakthroughs had occurred, for the most part, we were still holding at our optimal positions, even though we had predicted that they would have fallen halfway through the first day. It appeared that the emperor was truly with us. And that sent my paranoia into overdrive. My plans never seemed to work out this well, so the idea that we were facing a near-inexhaustible number of horrors and winning was one that I greeted with no small amount of skepticism. So much so that I had risked tagging along with Jenit Sulla's command Chimera, in an inspection of the lines. Despite the fact that it meant putting up with Sulla and putting me significantly closer than the position of relative safety, I had been watching the battle from the top of our battlements. Sulla seemed just as enthused as ever, for some reason seeing the massive horde of enemies trying to murder us messily as something to be happy about, talking intimately about her plans for strategic reserves, and secondary lines, most of which I tuned out.
My paranoia wasn't eased at all, when I arrived at our forward observation post and began examining the situation from there, talking to the troopers themselves to try to get a better understanding of what was going on. For the most part, it was exactly as they reported at the battlements. The lines were holding, the men were in pretty good spirits, all things considered, even accounting, for the fact that they were now in their third day of near total war, against some of the most horrifying monstrosities to effort exist. I suppose winning for three days will usually improve your morale over having spent three days being utterly destroyed.
I received a crisp salute from the corporals, manning the post, as they passed me a pair of binoculars that they'd been using to observe the enemy formations. Although that was perhaps, giving the demons a bit too much credit. I had fought things like these before, and they always seem to prefer to bring larger and more intelligent ones along, acting as either shock troops, or some level of commander. I haven't noticed anything like that for the past few days. It was as if the entire enemy force was composed entirely of Infantry, that they were just throwing against the wall.
As I looked out towards vast, shattered snowfields, all I could see were clouds of pink, Fog, and the dissipating corpses of various demons that had failed to Breach Defences. The fog started at the tree line, creating an almost impenetrable barrier. Its pink swirls twisting and forming into symbols before disappearing and reappearing. Warp blighted sorcery, making even fog an opposing force.
The fog! Frack! When we were on top of the walls, I had written it off as being simply a trick of the light, based on where I was standing in the distances involved. But now that I was much closer, it was easy to tell that the fog was at a fixed position, not advancing or fading. Everything beyond it was obscured. The realization struck me like a ton of bricks. It wasn't fog at all, it was a smokescreen! I turned to the troopers so quickly that they both started backwards, my voice raised. "Have you noticed any movement beyond the Fog?" The more senior Corporal responded, "No, sir. We haven't seen anything even come out of the fog. We thought it was just a side effect of their rituals." I cursed under my breath, as I grabbed the Vox set and cycled through to the command channel. "I need a missile shot toward the fog bank. Direct front of the fortress, and the missile needs to have been blessed with holy water before firing." I took a second or two for the fall of knowledge meant to go through, but everybody seemed to trust that if I was requesting such a specific armament in preparation, there had to have been something resembling, a good reason for it.
As I predicted, after five minutes, a streak of light and a trail of smoke, flew from our history, assemble gate, and into the fog bank. The fog itself recoiled from the missile, visibly retreating in most areas, and parting in its path, granting a far clearer view of what was happening. And what I saw set my bowels spasming. Taller than our fortress walls, and almost as tall as the Ceramite door, which protected the dig site, 30m tall metal statues stood before us, each one armed with a massive chainfist and dabbled in layers of heretical iconography.
The horrified revelation struck my synapses at once. Titans! Emperors Teeth, they had fracking Titans! The demons were bad enough, but now we were going to have to fight off a trio of heavily armoured god machines if we wanted any chance of getting out of this alive. I searched my memory for any suggestion about how to fight Titans, even just an anecdote that I had heard when I was still a Juve. And I came up with exactly one suggestion. You don't. When the enemy fields Titans, you don't fight them, you call in reinforcements and make sure that you have your own Titans to fight them. Nothing in our arsenal was even close enough to their weight class to be anything more than a minor annoyance.
The three Titans stood ready in bottle formation, three towering sculptures of metal that were designed to strike fear into the hearts of anyone who saw them. And yet each of them was also clearly unique in some way. The one on the far left had at some points, sprouted a metal crest on the top of its head, reminiscent of the Mohawk I had seen in the under hive. Its arms were adorned with what appeared to be shattered pieces of metal that I had no doubt were either intended to mark out notable victories or were some kind of grim talisman to gain the Dark God's favour. On the far right, the titan appeared to have been almost ancient, in the sheer amount of repairs that had currently been done. None of the panels seem to match one another, and the entire vessel, significantly smaller than its two compatriots, was also Clearly more touched by the warp than the others. He didn't appear to have internal systems, and instead beneath its metal, I could see what appeared to be veins, arteries, and tentacles, pulsing beneath. The middle one, however, was by far the most standard. It looks fairly new lease as far as Titans went and had what appeared to be most of its original plating still on it. Its outer hull was emblazoned with rivers of gold that formed into intricate and arcane symbols which hurt to look at. Even as faded as they were due to distance, I found my eyes very quickly, moving to focus on one of the other two, like a sort of subconscious self-defence mechanism.
The blighted god machines, as one, began to march forward, their titanic seat sticking from the snow and ice as if they had been standing there for a day or two. The scrambbling figures at their feet trying and failing to escape. I theorized that they had probably come down on the first day, and the plan had been to simply either take us out with the demons, or at least use them as a last resort. Our Discovery of these machines was an unplanned occurrence, and now the pilots were improvising. If this was a normal fight, and our opponent was now abandoning their position to engage us, it would've been a moment to spring a trap or double the defence, to punish them for their arrogance. But the simple fact of the matter was, that we didn't have anything that could harm any of the Titans. Even the shortest of them was almost 30 metres tall and looked to be carrying more firepower on it than our entire force had combined. Its twisted and sensuous exterior was emblazoned in an off-purple colour, and like its fellow titans, only appeared to be carrying chain swords and almost organic locking whips. Whatever these things have been originally intended for, they now appear primarily to be made for close combat. I felt that familiar sense of dread bubble up inside of me. After everything we had survived so far, we were going to be on time constantly by the fact that we did not have anything significantly strong enough to do any damage. We were outgunned and outclassed by a factor that we simply couldn't deal with. I could hear Sulla calling into the Vox, informing everyone who couldn't see the Titans about our incoming doom.
Suddenly, An idea struck me. One that I would have been reluctant to use if it hadn't been so dire. The Titans were massive, yes, But perhaps you could even use that against it? I drew up my mental map of the tunnel and cavern systems underneath the shrine, and hope began to replace the dread. They were on track, but might not remain so. It was a desperate hope, one that, if it went wrong we truly would be out of tricks to pull. It would require expert timing and a demolition specialist with more enthusiasm than common sense or regard for safety. But, a slim chance is better than no chance at all. Thus, I turned to Sulla and uttered the words that would help spring me into Militarum fame and legend.
"Sulla! Get every armoured vehicle we have manned and ready to go, then get me Federer. I have a plan!"
By the time I was through explaining the plan to our enthusiastic Sapper, Sulla had managed to get most of our armoured vehicles prepped, with the required equipment already loaded up. She had even managed to get most of them kitted out in as close to an ideal configuration as could reasonably be expected. Instead of the typical multilasers or flamers. We had heavy bolters, what few multimeltas our regiment had in inventory, and plasma cannons where such things could be found, or improvised in a quick enough time. I would've preferred more of all of these, as far too many of the vehicles seem to be equipped with a heavy Bolter than I'd have liked. But then again, I also would've preferred for everything to be equipped with a Multimelta if possible. And again, while I was asking the emperor for the impossible, I may as well ask for a couple of regiments of Baneblades, or my own Titan legion if he was feeling so generous. Unfortunately, I had what I had, and it was going to just be these tools. On the bright side, the tech priest seemed to agree with us for the most part. They seemed to have decided that a desperate plan was probably a lot more effective than just waiting for the Titans to get close enough to kill us all, and as such had thankfully cut a lot of the usual proselytizing and pondering about the greater nature of the universe to get to the practical's of saving all of our lives.
They had even been so good as to give me a more accurate calculation of how long our mission needed to last. Unfortunately, it had been a rather grim assessment. We would have to hold them for five minutes. Five freaking minutes, this mechanized cavalry charge was intended more as a momentary distraction, as opposed to something that could actually pin the Titan squadron. But still, it was our best bet, and it was far more generous than I had originally worried. So, with the closest thing I could get to enthusiasm, which was really a lack of visible dread, I stepped up to the pintol-mounted heavy bolter of our Salamander, drew my chain sword and motioned our improvised charge forward. 57 armoured vehicles charging at once against a handful of targets would normally be either something seen in a very bad holo-pic, or a surefire way to run over pretty much anything that stood in your way. For us though, as we charged, we knew that there was a fairly large chance of all of us simply being trampled. Still, as the vehicles all farted promethium fumes and rode across the open field, kicking up dirt and snow along the way, I was sure that if it was to be our final moment, it would've at least made a fairly impressive painting. My imagination grimly imagined the picture hanging up in some future colonel's office, depicting all of the charging members as obscenely, beautiful or well-built, like so many imperial paintings seem to do when they weren't being judged on the realistic nature.
Despite my trepidation, the Titans for the most part didn't seem to notice us on our initial charge. While I swore I saw two of their heads turn to look at us briefly, they quickly just resumed marching with that plodding slow pace that they favoured, as if the armoured vehicles before them were absolutely nothing to be concerned about. To be fair to them, under normal circumstances they wouldn't be anything of concern. That was what we were counting on. Thus the Titans didn't provide so much as token resistance until our Gunners began opening up with whatever implements they had on hand. Heavy Bolter fire mixed with plasma rounds and the itinic Flash of Melta shots. Even this though was met with only token resistance, as the point defence systems on the Titans began opening up in turn, although from so far away and with their host constructs being so clearly intended only for melee combat, there was little risk of any individual vehicle being struck. That didn't mean there wasn't any danger, as one of the Salamanders took what to look like a Las cannon blast to its open compartment, and detonated.
Regardless, I trusted in Jurgen's driving ability, and he once more proved as reliable as ever. We were quickly under the ornamented Titan and out of the way of its Point defence system. Now came the second part of the plan, as I reached down into the driving compartment, and grabbed hold of a bundle of Melta and Demo charges which had been prepared in advance. Under most circumstances, none of these would have been enough to do any damage to a Titan. However, I didn't need to cause significant enough damage to disable the beast. Instead, all we needed to do was sufficiently worry the pilots so that they would slow their advance for long enough for our plan to succeed. This meant that so long as these charges made a significant enough impression to trigger the natural response to somebody sticking high explosives in critical components, they would have done their job well enough. With a toss that would have done my days on the scrum ball pitch proud, I tossed the well-packed satchel up into the air, where it completed its Arc and fell into the leg armour of the titan. For a moment I was worried, and it hadn't been my goal to get it inside the leg armour, instead trying to get it more onto one of the clear sensor nodes. For a moment I worried that I had failed my first throw, and thus compromised our entire mission already. Then, I heard the explosion, muffled by the amount of metal in the way, and a tearing of ornate plate, as the entirety of the front leg armour seemed to peel off.
I watched with fascination as it appeared that the entire armoured plate started to bend down words at once, catching underneath the titan for a second before being crushed underfoot as the monumental metal foot crushed its own armour as if it were nothing more than paper. The ripping of armour exposed were more minor armour plates, but also the internal workings and mechanisms. It appeared that through a great deal of luck, my Melta charge had managed to land on a connecting joint and cause the armour plating to sheer itself off under its own weight. I had no time to reflect on my good fortune, though. Jurgen's famous driving abilities kept our salamander upright, even as the Titans finally took notice of us, and began attempting to stomp us underfoot. The advantage of our position was that, despite being in close enough range for the close support guns that dotted s to function, we were at such an odd angle, that no designer, no matter how corrupted, would've considered this a significant risk and as such the weapon placements were not designed to point down at such an angle. Otherwise, under normal circumstances, there would be a risk that some idiot would blow off the Titan's feet. Now the 597th were making the Titans designers pay for that caution.
As one, the Titans turn on me, as if truly now beginning to understand that we were not simply a series of small annoyances, or fleeing troopers, but something resembling an actual threat. The two undamaged titans began advancing towards us, clearly angling their lumbering bodies in what to a faster vehicle that would have been an intercept course. It didn't seem to be doing much to dismay its circles of attackers, but they did seem to believe that we were at least some degree of threat. The plus side to this was that I was now fairly confident that if our plant kept working for another couple of minutes, we would have no issue, carrying out the rest of it. Unfortunately, for the duration of those next few minutes, I had the undivided attention of a chaos-corrupted Titan legion. The trio of advancing Titans, now focussed almost entirely on me, began attempting to stop or hit me with their point defence weapons they had on their warped and distorted frames.
Fortunately, Jürgen was once more proving himself to be equal, if not greater, than the test set before him. We quickly spun on our tracks, missing the descending tightens foot by millimetres, and began charging with as much speed as my aid could force out of the poor, abused engine, towards the other two Titans. Had I been paired with any other driver, I would think that they had snapped and were attempting to kill me off, but I knew my aide well and trusted that if he thought the Titans was a safer place to be than where we were currently, then I would trust in his ability to get us there safely. It didn't mean that the Titans were going to make it easy though. As we exited from beneath the bulk of our injured target, its point defence systems finally opened up on us, now having a clear target to aim at. What would have been full-size support or anti-armor weapons on a regular battlefield, began raining down fire around us. My aid began driving us and exaggerated loops and around explosions detonating in the snow, with myself, trying to look suitably heroic, while opening up on the Titan injured like with the heavy bolter.
After around a minute, which felt like an eternity in the middle of combat, I began to notice that the surrounding fire had significantly increased in volume, even if its accuracy continued to leave a great deal to be desired. That meant we had entered into the range of the other Titans, and my suspicions were confirmed shortly after when the light of the sun seemed to dim, as we entered the crested Titan's shadow. My aid swung us underneath its bulk, and next to its right leg, the unspoken instruction passed between us due to our years of service together. I reach for another bundle of Melta charges when the noise of another titan moving forestalled me. They had already learned from our last attempt, and while the crusted titan began to try to retreat, its gargantuan, legs moving away from us with as much speed as they could manage, the patchwork titan attempted to strike down at us, using its years of experience to try to skewer us with its whip-like arm.
"Jurgen" I called, but my aide was already aware and in action. The roar of our Salamanders' engine as our treads bit deep into the Earth, and jolted back as the Sinuous whip unfurled towards us, and I felt my chest tighten. For a moment I thought we were going to either collide with its feet or be cut by the whip, which seemed to be moving to follow us. Fortunately, my aide's robust driving style was still strong enough for the task, and we spent away from the flashy construct, with me, merrily blazing away with a heavy Bolter. The whip, now extended past its original target, struck the crested Titan's leg armour, biting deep and ripping out an entire chunk of it. The weapon struck home, with so much of its force being concentrated at a single point, it ripped straight through whatever protections those totems were intended to provide. The Crested titan seemed to howl in a rage and anguish for a moment, before spinning on its damaged leg, and raising the other one to attempt to crush us underfoot.
Thankfully, our salvation came from a rather unexpected source, and from behind the patchwork Titan's legs, I saw a command Chimera bolt past, with the blonde pony tailed gunner tossing a satchel of charges into the now stationary leg. Sulla rode towards us, as we reversed away from the now-collapsing titan. Behind her, I could see the 50 or so, remaining armoured vehicles of our improvised charge. They began merrily circling the other two Titans, attempting to repeat the trick We had performed almost a minute ago on the Titan's legs, and blazing away with whatever weapons they could at the exposed cracks in two of the Titan's legs. It didn't appear as if we were getting much luck in that regard, but, it was also clear that the temperament of the Titans was rapidly shifting. Before their solemn march towards our fortifications, conveyed a sense of arrogance and presumed victory. Now the two standing titans were attempting to circle up with their third companion to provide a wider range of fire and support
The titan screamed once more, this one far more animalistic and fury-laden. Then it's first, as its right leg collapsed from underneath it, and it brought its left leg down desperately to try and prevent a full collapse. It caught itself, and white resembled a kneeling position but, the massive slash that had been blown through it right like suggested that even if it could still walk, we had done significant damage to it.
"Ready!" Came a call from the Vox, and none too soon, as I saw one of the Chimeras get caught underfoot, as the leftmost titan managed a Lucky strike. I threw my sword arm forward, which would bring us towards the fortifications themselves, and safely out of range of our own trap. Sulla began shouting into her Vox and our vehicles, Chimeras and alike Salamanders, drove back to safety with all the speed that they could muster. The Titans for their part, seem to take this opportunity as a chance to recoup, as instead of attempting to follow us, the two remaining standing titans tightened their, defence of line, including now moving to protect their crippled companion. I doubt if this was an out of any sense of camaraderie, or mutual respect, but rather a pragmatic sense of mutual protection on the battlefield.
"Now!" I shouted into the Vox, with a lack of answer briefly making me fear that something had gone wrong. The fact that I didn't hear any explosions for several seconds, further, praying upon my fear that we had somehow failed, and the explosions wouldn't go off, leaving us to deal with these unstoppable monsters. Then, I heard the roar made by Small Jets of stone and smoke shooting up behind us and crescendoing out into a large circle. The last few went off as we made it past the perimeter, leaving the Titans well and truly within it. The trio seemed to take a moment to watch the jets, not seemingly to understand what was happening. Then the snow and rock beneath them began to give way, seeming to tip to the left as the cavern beneath them was opened up to the sun and air, skidding them together and dropping them into a cavern twice as tall as they were.
The lumbering monstrosities fell backwards and into one another. Their massive feet not being capable of moving quickly enough to find a purchase outside the collapsing ground. Towers of metal, 30 metre tall slid into the Earth, first with the sound of a rock fall, then replaced with the sound of a bell foundry, collapsing in on itself. Each of these monstrosities collided with each other, as they fell, and even from this distance, I could see that, they had begun to rip each other apart on the way down. Metal catching on metal, limbs on limbs. Three massive monstrosities, each one capable of slaying armies, had fallen on this unremarkable planet, and fallen to the Valhallan 597. Their deaths would cost the traitor forces dearly. As far as I knew, there was no real way to recover them from this pit or begin fixing the damage that falling into a 60-metre chasm and colliding against each other would cause. Had they the supplies and expertise of the mechanics, this might have been a project that lasted for centuries to fully repair. But the chaotic forces did not have the Mechanicus resources, expertise and infrastructure so as far as I could see, it was unlikely that these bladed machines would ever serve against the emperor's warriors again.
Over the Vox, a chorus of cheers told me that the troopers in the fort had seen the collapse and were revelling in their great victory. Every one of them cheered as if they had been the ones to slay the monstrosities with their own hands. I have to admit to feeling pretty good about things at that moment. Being for once able to enjoy the delusion that we had simply defeated the enemy and that. For the first time in a long while, I permitted myself to hope and believe that we were going to be OK. I believe I can be forgiven for that, after having dealt with multiple Titans at once, surely the enemy had nothing more they could throw at us. Any rational enemy would have to withdraw having suffered such losses, right? Unfortunately, I am not accounted for the madness that is singing the requirement for every worshipper of chaos.
Over on Vox, a new voice joined in, old and snide, like the single most pedantic teacher, who wants you to know that they are more educated than you, and thus they believe themselves to be your superior. It had intelligence to it, that suggested that at one point, it may have even been a charming voice, the voice of a politician, or a diplomat. Now it was mocking, cruel and utterly unpleasant. Worst of all, though, it carried that same tone that Emili did.
"You've done well, little humans. Perhaps you'll make this interesting after all.". That was all it said before the link went dead. Moments later, our Auspex operators broke in with panicked shouts, which at first I had trouble placing.
And that was when I saw it, a series of Droppods, not unlike those that I had seen actual Astartes use, rain from the heavens, seemingly to pass through the image of Emili etched into the clouds and plummeting towards our compound. I could hear even from this distance, the Hydra batteries opening up to try and prevent them from making ground fall, and while a few of them did manage to strike at their targets, there were almost 100 pods descending in their purple colour scheme, and our battery simply did not have the numbers necessary to strike them all out of the sky. I felt a coil of dread in my gut as I watched what I knew to be space marine squads reach our fortifications, and the sound of Bolter fire began to ring out from inside our encampment.
End of Part 1.