Chapter XV:
Blood of Martyrs
Wolfsland, the Western Front, February 23rd SY 2149
The ground quaked as the long and massive mechanized columns of the Legion traversed the Giadian landscape, taking one of the main roads that led to the capital city. At the head of the mindless herd were Grauwolves and Löwes, Black Sheep, that kept the pacing and discipline of the rest. Skorpions and Dinosaurias trudged slowly at the very rear of the formations, guided by their smaller Ameise companions. Despite being mechanical and autonomous in nature, these drones acted surprisingly like a pack of animals, stronger and larger units were necessary to lead the smaller and weaker units even if they were used as cannon fodder.
While the enormous herd crawled towards the frontline, trampling everything indiscriminately in its path, isolated Cadian sniper teams observed silently.
"Goliath, this is Yellow 2-9, no visual on HVT Alpha, sending fire mission now."
"Yellow 2-9, fire mission received. Standby."
"Get ready for the fireworks," He whispered to the sniper, laying prone next to him.
"Can't wait to get off and get some chow." The sniper replied sarcastically.
The Legion column suddenly halted as they detected faint detonations in the distance, but it was too late for them. In a second, the entire valley erupted with sheer violence and destruction. Earthshaker rounds shrieked overhead, raining from the heavens before plunging to their targets. Billows of dirt, rocks and machineries shot up, an entire face of a hill crumbled under the unadulterated might and fury of the Imperium of Man.
Then the skies shattered.
A single volley of macro-cannon batteries from orbit finished the barrage, levelling entire mountains, wiping out every living being and inanimate object in a very tight area of operation.
As the dust settled, smoke and fire remained among a grotesque sea of mangled carcasses and twisted metal.
"Goliath, this is Yellow 2-9. Good fragging effect on target."
Sankt Glycine Base, Federal Republic of Giad
Katra felt naked without her Caparace armour on or her beloved plasma gun. All guardsman and guardswoman of First to Fifth companies were put on a 48-hour leave to the Federacy's capital, so that the local civilians might finally see and familiarise with the Cadians and improve morale to the war effort.
"Hey, chin up, Hekler," Gunther said with an elbow nudge, "It'll do you some good to see civvies once in a while."
"I'm more interested in the food quite frankly, mate," Kholm piped up behind them.
"By the Thrones, you and your stomach…" Gelt shook his head in disbelief, "Remind me how you managed to pass the test?"
"Sod off!" Kholm raised a middle finger in response, which earned muffled giggles from the rest of the squad.
"Guardsmen!" Colonel Frazyer bellowed roughly, "Embark in your transports! Enjoy your respite and have fun, that is an order!"
Several guardsmen cheered gleefully as they headed to the rows of Federacy transport buses. It was a five-hour drive before they could reach the capital city, Sankt Jeder. During the long trek, pamphlets were given to the Cadians so they would be accustomed to the locals' culture and to follow proper etiquette. Most of the Guardsmen used that time instead to take some much-needed sleep.
Hekler was awoken by the abrupt halt of the civilian vehicle. She tiredly rubbed her eyes and immediately followed the other passengers out. She scanned her surroundings and noticed that they were assembled at a military establishment. There were tall and large white, stone, buildings with wide black mansard roofs. The buildings were intricate, built by talented artisans but were useless as defensive bunkers.
After retrieving her large travel rucksack, she regrouped with the rest of her squad where a Giadian officer would indicate their living space for the next forty-eight hours.
Kerns whistled loudly as they entered their room. It was quite spacious with rows of bunk beds and metal lockers to accommodate twelve people. The bathrooms and shower rooms were in the long hallway of the floor. The men quickly settled, speaking loudly and jovially. Hekler shared her bunk with Mons, taking the top bed and laying on its neatly folded covers.
"Alright, lads, get some shut eyes." Sergeant Pavlo announced moments later, "We're moving out in thirty minutes. You lot better behave once we're out with the civvies."
"Aye, sergeant!" They replied.
Outside their dorm room, the barrack was filled with chatter and activity as the Guardsmen familiarize themselves with the infrastructure. Most were awed by the building's interior design, feeling out of place as it used to house Giadian officers. Captain Parris and a couple of lieutenants were busy with guiding their herds of lower ranks and gathering information about the installations, namely the location of the mess hall.
"By the Golden Throne!" Parris sighed exasperatedly, feeling a migraine coming to his head, "It's like herding a troop of Whiteshields in basic training…"
"Let me take care of it, captain," Holmes proposed from behind, startling the smaller man, "Get your pack set and some rest, sir. I'll have the boys ready for the expedition in a neatly order."
Parris flashed a tired grin, handing the clipboard to the Kasrkin lieutenant, "Thanks, lad. I hope there's a recaf machine somewhere in this building." He commented as he heads back down to retrieve his bags.
About half an hour later, the First company was assembled in an orderly fashion outside of their barrack. Lacking civilian clothes, they simply wore their woodland battle fatigues, patrol caps and their combat daggers for self-defence. Officers were allowed to carry laspistols or personal revolvers instead, the other sidearms were deemed "unnecessarily brutal" by the Giadian high-command. Each Guardsman received a small wallet filled with Federacy Marks, the country's currency. They boarded into the buses once more and were driven to the city's centre.
"Alright, boys!" Captain Parris hollered as they were assembled near the city's commercia. "I want everyone back here at 1700 hours, sharp! There will be zero screw ups! I don't wanna hear about one of you getting dragged off by the city's Enforcers! Is that clear?"
"Yes sir!"
"Dismiss. Have fun but remain alert, lads."
On command, the hounds were freed. The large troop of Cadians immediately caught the eyes of the civilians: curious, surprised, glad and apprehensive. The merchants of the district were elated to greet this new wave of customers. Restaurants, pubs and food stalls were swiftly crowded as the Guardsmen gladly accepted and stuffed anything the locals were presenting to them.
Holmes and the rest of his squad were at a table of a restaurant, wolfing down the home cooked meals that were leagues better than their regimental cooks' dishes, and it was certainly better than the C-rations or corpse starches. While they enjoyed the local cuisine, something felt off to them. The restaurant's staff members were smiling and gullible, happily serving the customers, yet the air felt heavy.
They could feel the wary stares and dreadful glares from the civilians around them. Hushed whispers and mutters echoed around them. Children were rapidly reprimanded by their parents if they pointed at the Kasrkins. They were outcasts, outworlders… invaders. It was obvious that they were not welcomed, though not as openly as the San Magnolians. It didn't affect them; they were used to it. Despite being ardent defenders of the Imperium and Humanity as a whole, some planets simply loathed or were distrustful of the Astra Militarum. It was a fact that every Guardsman must accept; civilians will hate them simply because their very presence disturbed their illusion of peace.
A feeling that they shared with the exiled Eighty-Six.
The Eastern Front, Republic of San Magnolia
"Incoming!"
The earth trembled violently as the Legion's creeping barrage showered around them. The San Magnolian troops hunkered down in their trenches. Hot shrapnel splintered wildly, digging into concrete, mud and flesh. Death Korps Basilisks replied in kind, quickly locating and acquiring their targets. The infantrymen rose back to their posts and waited for the wave of Legion Jagërs and Ameise rushing through no man's land.
"Open fire!" Shouted an Alba officer through his gas mask.
Rifles and machine guns barked, autocannons and Heavy Bolters roared, multiple rocket launchers and mortars shrieked and whistled overhead. Lascannons glowed white hot as their heavy batteries were spent at a frightening rate.
Smoking wrecks littered the battlefield in seconds, obstacles were piling up and slowed the Legion's advance, forcing the drones to funnel through small gaps and into a wall of razor wires, knife rests, metal spikes and mines. Undeterred by the staggering losses and arduous obstacles, the Legion pushed through mindlessly.
"Back to the second line! Move it! Move it!" The Commissar bellowed sternly.
The Alba troopers swiftly and in a disciplined drill weaved through the zig-zagging communication trenches and towards the reserve line. Krieg and Cadian combat engineers patiently waited with detonators, observing the Legion advance with handheld periscopes. The machine abominations jumped in the narrow trench line and were soon bogged down by mud and poorly maintained duck boards, their own weight sinking further deeper into the quagmire. Even the nimble and light Jagërs slipped and sunk ungracefully, getting themselves stuck or crushed by the larger Ameise drones. They were in the kill boxes.
On cue, the engineers activated their detonators. A series of ear-shattering explosions rippled through the trench line, ripping apart ground and machine, the battlefield brutally transformed into an apocalyptic marshland.
Silence reigned but for a mere moment only. Earthshaker shells viciously pounded the land. High-explosives and incendiary washed over the lunar and desolate frontline. A thick wall of suffocating black smoke enveloped the trenches and ruined town further back, preventing the Ameise scouts to designate targets for the Skorpions.
Lacking thermals and clear line of sight, the Legion horde was forced to push forwards, blinded by the man-made smog. Even the silvery blanket of Eintagsflieges were incapable of detecting any living being through the smog.
Uncharacteristically, the drones were hesitant as they trudge through the devastating mire of death and destruction. While the lighter drones weaved through the battlefield and towards their next objective, the Löwes were tasked with clearing out no man's land to provide open fields of fire for the artillery units.
From her command post, Lena watched pensively at the tactical map displayed on her centre screen. The red hostile tags were crawling towards a line of blue friendly armoured units while her squadron, Brísingamen, laid in wait under the heavy brushes on the northern flank with three motorized platoons of Death Korps Grenadiers. She just needed to wait long enough until the enemy's rear formation was on her path of attack.
"Feeling anxious, my queen?" Shiden teased playfully.
"Oi, oi, stop bothering the Major, Cyclops." The squadron's deputy chastised firmly, earning an outraged gasp from her.
"Me? Bothering our beloved Major?" Shiden continued theatrically, vexed by Melusine's accusations, "How dare you even imagine that I, Cyclops, would do such a thing!"
Lena chuckled at their childish banter, feeling more at ease now that the whole squadron joined in and lightly bickered with each other. Then a notification pinged on her screen, a signal sent by the Death Marshall himself: time to go to work.
"We've received the greenlight." She interrupted firmly, "All platoons, begin operation as planned: priority target any artillery units and tanks. Let the Grenadiers mop up the small fries."
"Aye, aye! You heard her! Let's rock and roll!" Cyclops announced with malicious enthusiasm.
The squadron, along with the Grenadier platoons, surged forward and spread out into smaller formations, speeding towards their designated targets. Krieg Centaurs and Storm Chimeras rushed from the centre, grabbing the Legion's rear guard's attention.
Tracers raged around their Centaur. Tank shells impacted haphazardly; hot shrapnel bloomed wildly all over them. Pajk ducked at the last second, narrowly dodging a shrapnel piece. He recomposed and returned fire with the vehicle's Heavy Stubber. The heavy rounds pierced the Löwe's joints and underside. The platoon circled around their targets, distracting long enough for the Juggernauts to acquire and eliminate accurately.
Burst of 57mm AP shells punched the enemy tanks, destroying most of them. The Chimeras' autocannons and heavy Bolters were enough to wipe up any residual Löwes and Grauwolves.
The light and nimble APC screeched to an abrupt halt; its rear compartment door violently slammed down on the muddy ground.
"Disembark! Destroy those artillery pieces!" The Watchmaster ordered coldly.
The Grenadiers jumped out, their hot-shot lasguns and meltaguns hot and primed. The large and clumsy mechanical beasts tried to swipe the Krieg stormtroopers off but were soon swarmed by a destructive rainbow of highly concentrated lasbolts and super-heated streams.
"Grauwolves, right!"
The Grenadier squad switched target and opened fire on the small cluster of Dragoon type units. A single unit managed to evade the onslaught, bounding impressively to close the gap between them. It pounced on a Centaur, instantly crushing the APC and its crew members into a bloody pulp. Without skipping a beat, it slid forward, its two high-frequency blades outstretched from the sides.
The large blades sliced cleanly through the ranks of Krieg guardsmen. It expertly evaded lasbolts and Bolter rounds, weaving and bounding at an unprecedented speed. Blood and guts quickly covered its shiny silver hull, a grim reminder of a vicious and cold killing machine.
The Grauwolf skewered two Korpsmen and hurled their lifeless corpses against an anti-tank team, knocking the duo off their feet. The lone Legion drone was causing a havoc, and it was becoming more than a nuisance.
"Cyclops, I need you to dispatch a team to eliminate that Grauwolf! It's delaying the Grenadiers' progress." Major Milizé instructed with a hint of concern.
Shiden glanced behind her, spotting the lone Grauwolf taking on the Grenadiers and their armoured support.
"Tch, of course it's up to us to clean up their mess… Mika, Alto, on me. The trench boys are having a bad day with that Grauwolf. Encircle it and destroy that thing!" She ordered sternly. "Shana, can you handle it from here?"
"Of course, boss. Go kick its ass."
Shiden grinned to the side, "I'll stomp it reaaal good." She muttered sadistically.
The three Juggernauts branched off and charged for the rear line to meet the lone Grauwolf. Having the target in sight, she steadied her aim but quickly noted the walker's odd and aggressive behaviour and movement. This was no ordinary Grauwolf.
"Crap!" She heard Mika curse abruptly, "That's a Black Sheep… and a processor."
"diediediediedie" Came in manic stammers from the Para-Raid.
Shiden clicked her tongue; things were about to get messier than usual. "Gives us more reason to press on. Encircle it and pin it down with machine gun fire. Alto, you'll put him to rest."
"Yes, ma'am!" They replied sombrely.
Pajk rolled to the side, narrowly evading one of the blades. He rolled onto his back and poured a continuous stream of concentrated las-beams into the beast's left side, piercing through the hull and joints and legs, managing to disable one of its high-frequency blades. Angered, it swung around and rose its right front leg, poised to crush the pesky human.
Suddenly at the last second, the Grauwolf pounced backwards, dodging a volley of machine gun fire. The Grenadier turned around and spotted two Juggernauts rushing towards the Grauwolf, blasting away their secondary heavy stubbers.
"Leave! We'll handle this!" One of Juggernaut's loudspeakers hollered roughly.
The Death Korps stormtroopers complied and resumed with their primary objectives despite the heavy losses they've taken. The assault force has lost the initiative and the element of surprise, all caused by a single, and staunchly determined, Black Sheep. Much of the Legion's forces were pulled back to assist the vulnerable Skorpions, leaving the Grenadiers a small window of opportunity. With the odds stacked against them, and the explicit order to return with as many survivors as possible, the Kriegers' commanding officer took out a flare gun and shot it in the air.
A bright red glow enveloped the battlefield as it soared over two hundred metres. It was the warning signal for the Juggernauts and artillery observers, giving everyone a two-minute window to exfiltrate and prepare for an Earthshaker bombardment respectively. The remaining Grenadiers quickly hopped in the few surviving Centaurs, leaving behind two squads to act as bait.
Another flare shot up in the air, followed rapidly by the loud thunders of Basilisks, pounding the area with high explosive and Inferno shells, and the high-pitched dreadful shrieking of the Praetor's Foehammer missiles.
The earth was turned upside-down, battered, scorched and brutally disfigured, transforming the grassy plains and forests into a devastated and barren hellscape in a matter of seconds. It was incidentally another site of a mass scrapyard for the Legion.
Lena released a heavy sigh of relief, her squadron suffered zero casualty, even though they were sent behind enemy lines and were about to be swarmed. However, it was another story for the Death Korps Grenadiers; an entire platoon was wiped out. After bidding her squadron farewell, she immediately disconnected her Para-Raid and pushed her chair away from her station. She leaned back and stared emptily at the stale white ceiling.
Dread weighed heavily on her shoulders by each passing day. All the active Handlers have been briefed with the General's new plan: to use scorched earth tactics until the Legion was at the city's gates, using San Magnolia as decoy while the other nations prepare for the massive counter-offensive. Even Cadia's Requiem would be used to entice the Legion to push deeper in San Magnolian territory.
It is an understatement to say that Lena was not fond of this strategy, sacrificing her homeland when she poured her mind, sweat and soul into defending it. Her own people, the Albas, she couldn't care less for many of them. Only a few officers, mostly young men and women, have the same ideals as hers, willing to give themselves up for home and country and to fight beside the Eighty-Six, if necessary to the bitter end.
The only thing she can hope for now is the survival of Brísingamen squadron and that the Republic's Armed Forces would stand their ground instead of collapsing.
She fetched the photo of Spearhead Squadron and gazed hopefully at the faded faces of the presumed MIA squadron. A small, exhausted smile stretched across her pale face.
"One day… I will find you and we will journey on together…" She whispered with a cracked voice.
Sankt Glycine Base, Federal Republic of Giad, February 26th SY 2149
Lieutenant-Colonel Wenzel firmly knocked on the office's door.
"Enter." Came the dry response from Altner.
She confidently walked in, "You wanted to see me, sir?" She asked as she made her way towards his desk.
"Yes. I just got off another meeting with the President and General Farestein. You might want to take a seat,"
She complied to his offer and sat down, feeling slightly nervous. It was one of the times where Altner was completely unreadable and expressionless, there were no signs of anger or mild satisfaction.
"I've got good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?"
"The bad news."
"Good news it is."
"Prick…" She thought dryly.
"First of all, the President's has approved to increase the budget for project Nachzehrer following your success with developing the Reginliefs. Secondly, with the Imperial Navy and Farestein's persuasion, he has also decided to re-activate the Giadian Air Force, now rebranded as the Army Air Corps." He told with her with the least enthusiastic voice possible.
"Sooo… what's the bad news then?" She asked curiously. Altner looked flatly back at her, seeing the gleaming hope of seeing Federacy planes fly once more.
"Unfortunately, all high-ranking officers of the Air Force were either killed, executed or exiled since the revolution, leaving behind a few handfuls of trained pilots and mechanics. Which makes you the last and highest-ranking officer of the branch… so congratulations, you are now commanding officer of the entire Air Corps."
"Wait… what? But… what about Nachzehrer? Or the Reginliefs? A-and-and do we even still have fighter jets that are still operational?" Wenzel nervously listed her questions as more were flooding in her mind.
"The mechanics are already looking into that matter, colonel." Altner replied coldly, "Here's a folder with all the available personnel for the Air Corps as well as potential mechanics and candidates."
"Candidates?" She asked confusedly.
"Well, you're going to need flesh bags to pilot your aircrafts, no?" The one-eyed general answered with a devilish side grin. "Internal recruitment will commence tomorrow within the Army and reserves then next month to the general population. I have temporarily assigned Willem to assist you with any administrative tasks. I've also taken liberty to email you all the necessary paperwork and requirements to restore your Air Corps, all the details are in there. If you don't have any questions, you may dismiss."
Wenzel stared with wide eyes at the general, dumbfounded and baffled at the entire situation. Altner seemed to notice just now that she was still in his office in complete silence.
"Already doubting yourself, Wenzel?" He spoke out loud, startling her.
"N-no, sir…"
She hastily stood up, gave a flustered saluted and headed for the door, her face beet red with embarrassment.
"I believe in you, colonel. Don't screw this up!" He added as she closed the door behind her.
Wolfsland, the Western Front, March 2nd SY 2149
Missiles shrieked overhead as wide wedge formations of M4A3 Vánagandrs pushed forward through the hail of bullets and shells. Despite being heavily armed and armoured, the large and bulky walking tanks were still inferior to the Legion's Löwe types, considered sluggish and with poor acceleration, their heavy weight worked against them, being easy targets for the Legion.
Another Vánagandr got hit by a salvo of armour-piercing shells, its ammunition storage ignited like a wildfire, ripping the tank from within.
"Damn it! Lindwyrm 2-1 is KIA!"
"Keep moving! Second platoon, get to high ground on that cliff to your two o'clock!"
"Copy! Moving out!"
The right wing veered off formation, using the natural trenches and rock formations as cover as they bound up the hill. The main formation was closing in on their objective to seize and control a vital creek bed.
"Okay, Eugene, keep your eyes open for any infantry," His tank commander instructed, "We don't want to be swarmed by those fucking mines."
"Y-yes, sir." The bespectacled pilot replied nervously. Second lieutenant Eugene Rantz gripped tightly the control sticks of the Vánagandr, his pale face was glistening with sweat.
"Deep breathes, son. Remember your training and we'll make it out of here alive," Reassured his commander.
The rest of the Vánagandr company was able to set up at the creek bed, providing cover fire for the detached second platoon. Across the frontline, the Federacy has launched a massive, armoured offensive to seize and hold tactical grounds to use as a buffer zone for the Maginot Line. Once it is established, the Imperial Navy would launch numerous air and orbital strikes to soften up the Legion and potentially expose the dreaded railgun-type, designated the "Morpho".
"Fuck! Lindwyrm-Actual, this is 2-6!" Came the panicked holler of a tank gunner, "We've been ambushed by a large force of heavy tanks! I'm the last survivor! Reques-"
"Second platoon's gone, skipper. Our right flank's exposed!" Another worried voice came through the comms.
"Everyone, calm your asses!" The tank commander shouted angrily, "3-1, take your platoon on overwatch in that forest to your left. 5-1, pull back and act as our rear guard, don't let them get to us."
"Wilco!"
"Contact front!"
The Vánagandrs of the 12th, 14th and 20th Company were engaged in a fierce close-quarters battle with Legion Löwes and Dinosaurias. Facing overwhelming enemy fire, the Federacy tanks were forced to disperse and give away the creek bed, trying to gain some high ground to defeat the autonomous drones.
Streams of machine gun tracers and volleys of tank shells were thrown from both sides, causing devastating destructions and heaving losses. The 14th Company soon collapsed, having suffered over sixty percent casualties. The 20th Company barely held the left flank, the platoons were spread out too much and fought individual and fierce last stands. And despite the artillery's effort to stall enemy reinforcements, it was only a matter of minutes until the 12th Company must abandon the centre and the creek bed.
"Damn it! There's too many of them!" The tank commander shouted in frustration.
"To all units, friendlies to our six!" An eager voice exclaimed through their integrated headsets.
"Fuck yeah! Cadian tanks and walkers inbound!"
Red laser streaks punched cleaned through Löwe armour while volleys of armour-piercing shells perforated the Legion's heavy tanks. Burst of Bolter fire swathed through the ranks of Ameise and Grauwolf, making short work on their weak armour.
Eugene gasped as squadrons of armoured Sentinels rushed past them, actively hunting down the remaining Dinosaurias like a pack of hungry wolves. The earth trembled suddenly followed by the ear-splintering cacophony of cannon fire. Cruising at a leisure pace behind the Sentinels were the mighty Leman Russes, eliminating high-value targets from afar while their side-sponsons expedited the Emperor's Holy vengeance to any stragglers.
In mere seconds, the tide has turned in their favour. The ominous cloud of Eintagsfliege retreated, revealing the starry night sky. Thunderbolts and Valkyries swooped in, delivering their payloads into the retreating enemy force, a wall of fire and destruction engulfed the mechanical abominations, streaks of las-fire and rockets pummelled them into smoking husks and mounds of scraps.
Eugene was awed and taken aback by the sheer display of ferocity and firepower by the Imperium's war machine. This was his first major engagement, and he got a front row seat of the Astra Militarum's renowned Leman Russ tanks in action. The tanks, though slower than the Giadian tanks, easily towered over them. Their massive weaponry and armour plating could fare against multiple Löwe and come out on top. They left behind a trail of unadulterated destruction on an unimaginable scale. He begrudgingly admits that he is envious of the Cadians; he would have a blast piloting one of them.
He took a curious glance at his tank commander, probably imagining that he would share the same enthusiasm, but instead found dread and wariness. The captain was no stranger with working with the Imperial Guard, he has seen what they were capable of; and it frightened him to the core. No wonder the president quickly accepted the Cadian's terms and forfeited the country's liberty for effective but ruthless protection. They were simply no match against the might of the Imperium.
The commander shook his head and cleared his throat before activating his Para-Raid earpiece, "To all units, this is Lindwyrm-Actual. Regroup and I want an assessment from each platoon. We're staying here until our relief arrives."
"Aren't the Cadians our relief, sir?" A young tank commander asked curiously.
"Negative, they were the QRF. The infantry will arrive with the logistics and our mechanics. Standby and keep your eyes open, gents."
"Wilco!"
Colonel Frazyer observed the battlefield from the spacious balcony of the forward headquarters. It was a massive private mansion that was once owned by an Imperial Giadian noble. The mansion, like the rest of the Federacy's countryside, was scarred by the violence of war. Its glass cupola skylight was completely shattered, parts of the roof collapsed into rubble and twisted metal. The front courtyard which once had beautifully and meticulously trimmed topiaries of animals and geometrical shapes were ungracefully crushed and razed, now used as an improvised motor pool by the coalition.
He tore his tired eyes from the magnoculars as the regimental Master-Vox called for his presence.
"It's the General, sir." The Guardsman announced straightforwardly, his eyes still focused on the heavier Vox-Caster model, filtering the numerous transmissions and travelled erratically between units.
"Colonel Frazyer reporting," He stated confidently. "Yes, sir. The frontline has stabilized for now… of course, sir…" He nodded along as General Farestein conveyed his orders. "Unfortunately, there were no signs of any Railgun artillery, sir. Just the usual Legion chatter of the damned, general."
Meanwhile, the Master-Vox's brows furrowed as he received a wave of confusing transmissions through his headset. Sure, it had the Legion's rambles but also worrying reports on the frontline. Before he could hail the colonel, he gazed up as low-pitched buzzing drew near their position. His amethyst eyes widened with shock and horror, spotting a dark cloud that blotted the evening sky.
Hydra anti-air tanks raised their quad-autocannons and immediately opened fire even before the strident air sirens blared urgently. Soldiers and Guardsmen swiftly ran for cover and engaged the vast swarm of Legion drones. But these were different than the hand-sized mayflies. They were much larger and had a more conventional structure, resembling more to a miniature plane rather than a distorted creature.
Once reaching their target area, the new drones plunged downward, braving through the hailstorm of las-rounds, flak and bullets. Though they dropped like flies, the few dozens that made it through unleashed a devastating attack to the ground troops and vehicles. Their explosive charges were enough to destroy light armoured vehicles, wiping out entire squads of soldiers in a blink of an eye.
The swarm died as soon as it arrived, leaving a chaotic scene in its wake. Tanks burned brightly while choking plumes of black smoke engulfed the mansion. The screams and wails of dismembered soldiers echoed across the courtyard. Makeshift teams of medics and stretcher bearers rushed to the dying, trying their best to save as many lives as humanely possible.
The regimental Master-Vox steadily sat up, his head bleeding profusely as he took in the destruction around him. His breathing was ragged. Dazed and with adrenaline pumping in his veins, his senses were heightened.
"S-sir? Colonel?" He hailed, looking around confusedly.
Several bodies scattered on the balcony, some were gruesomely eviscerated, their guts pumping out of the bloody wounds. He has found the colonel laying a few feet apart from him. He was completely mutilated from the waist down; a strain of blood and intestines traces back to the lower half of his body.
"Colonel!" The Guardsman crawled to his regimental commander. He rolled him on his back and gasped with shock.
"Help! Medic!"
Frazyer would die two days later despite the field chiurgeons' best efforts and intervention of tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Captain Parris was nominated as acting commander of the Cadian 501st until Farestein could find a suitable replacement.
News of the colonel's demise have severely affected the Guardsmen's morale. For many he was a mentor and father-figure, harsh but fair and compassionate for the men and women of the regiment. Frazyer was posthumously awarded the Medallion Crimson and promoted to Castellan.
Sankt Glycine Base, Wolfsland, March 6th SY 2149
"Latest intel suggests that the new drone type, designation Hornet, are the Legion's offensive air units. They're usually deployed in swarms of hundreds, but some reported to witness smaller flocks of ten or less. Their guidance system remains unknown unfortunately, and they are simply used as suicide munition." Willem stated while reading the intelligence report to the rest of the general staff.
"So, these "Hornets" have an advance guidance system but no range attack capabilities?" Colonel Wenzel asked curiously, "Can they hover in place?"
"Negative. They are fixed-wing aircrafts with a small motor-driven propeller at the rear." He explained, "That being said, it is hypothesised that their operational range is rather small, it is possible that the Hornets need a launcher to reach their targets."
"Perhaps a Grauwolf or a modified Skorpion?" A battalion commander suggested.
"A Skorpion would be more suitable, but it is entirely plausible that the Legion has purpose-built a unit capable of launching dozens, if not, hundreds of Hornets at once."
"Great, the enemy has made the skies more dangerous and has found a cheaper way to pin our ground forces." Altner groaned, rubbing his forehead to ease the growing headache. "Gentlemen, the Cadians have just lost a regimental commander. I think you're all smart enough to expect that General Farestein will want results… and fast." The one-eyed general warned ominously. "Though the Maginot Line still stands, it won't hold in the long run."
"With all due respect, sir," A colonel spoke up assertively. He was an elderly officer with smoky grey hair and a well combed moustache. His panzer uniform had several rows of ribbons adorned over his left breast pocket, denoting his experience and seniority. "But can't the Cadians just use their space vessels to bombard the Legion to oblivion?"
The other officers nodded or expressed the same opinion as the veteran colonel. Altner raised his hand to silence the chatter, sighing heavily.
"If the Imperial Navy did use their arsenal to full capacity, they would simply wipe out the whole planet and be done with it." He informed them coldly, sending dread down their spines, "We're alive only thanks to the Cadians. They would rather throw bodies than use their superior weapons because they are more valuable. Let me remind you all that they came to our world by accident and are willing to fight with us to spread the Imperium's light… not to save us. They have other, and more important, planets to go to."
"R-right… please forgive my ignorance." The colonel bowed his head apologetically.
Altner turned his gaze to Wenzel, "Any progress to project Reginleif?"
"Yes, sir. Most of our candidates either died or were seriously injured during the testing phase. Only the Eighty-Six and the Vargus mercs survived with positive results." Wenzel answered, "However, they insisted that the XM2s to be lightly armoured as it would impede their mobility…"
"Their choice, their funeral."
"But sir!"
"Colonel," Altner interrupted sternly "We both know that the Eighty-Six have more experience operating these walking coffins than any of us. So, if we can spare more of our citizens then so be it. Besides, there would be no shortage of corpses to bury once we launch the counter-offensive. Let the professionals and freaks be the spearhead rather than our conscripts."
"Very well, general…" She conceded reluctantly.
"And what about our Air Force?" He continued indifferently.
"There has been a surge of new recruits, mostly mechanics but we have about fifty pilots currently in the program."
"Good. We'll need them to provide cover for the Eighty-Six."
"Are we really sacrificing our men for those kids?" Brigadier General Walravens asked incredulously. A scarred veteran of the Giadian Empire and commander of the revered 48th Heavy Infantry Brigade, the general was equally well-liked and feared by his soldiers, often leading from the front, down in the mud and blood with them. Though he didn't shy away from sending his brigade on some of the toughest missions, he wasn't keen on needlessly spending the lives of his soldiers for objectives of little to no strategic value; and he wasn't afraid to speak his mind out.
"The Eighty-Six are very proficient in the battlefield, outmatching most of our tank crews." Ehrenfried explained.
"Being reckless and suicidal doesn't mean that they are proficient." Walravens retorted, "Sooner or later, they'll perish, bringing all of our boys to their graves and we'll be back to square one."
"I share your concerns for the lives of our soldiers, but the Eighty-Six are our best shot at taking down the Morpho and turning the tide to our favour." Altner replied diplomatically, "If we show the Imperium that we are willing to take risks and take the fight to the enemy, they'll surely put more effort into liberating this planet. Those kids are the key to victory, and I expect in each one of you to spill your blood to them if it necessary. We cannot fuck this up. Is that clear?"
He scanned the room, exanimating each of their faces. They were reluctant, harboured strong feelings about the Eighty-Six but complied obediently. They were going to fight just as hard as the Cadians. They must, for the survival of the Federacy.
"Good. You may all dismiss."
The Eastern Front, Republic of San Magnolia, March 20th SY 2149
The air sirens wailed ominously throughout the ruined city, signalling the impeding drone strike. San Magnolian soldiers rushed to their bunkers or anti-air guns. In the streets, the infantry fixed bayonets and waited patiently the Legion. Their stark gas masks hid their gaunt faces and anxiety. The enemy has doubled its efforts in San Magnolia, employing more gas attacks and suicide drone strikes with the new and dreaded Hornet-types.
The Republic soldiers have been fighting in the ruins for several weeks, pushing back wave after wave of Legion on a daily basis, with very little sleep or food in their stomachs. The Cadians were pulled back to the capital city a few days ago, replaced by the Death Korps to handle the rearguard operations.
The quad-autocannons and flak cannons roared mightily, peppering the sky with burst of shrapnel. A chain reaction of explosions erupted through the cloud of Hornets, but a few dozens pushed through the hail of fire dove for their targets. At the same time, swarms of Ameise and Jäger types surged out of the woods, their lifeless beady red eyes driven with murderous intent.
"Here they come!" Shouted a Krieg Commissar at the top of his lungs, "Strike true and without mercy! Send these abominations back to the Warp! For the God-Emperor! For the Golden Throne!"
"For the Emperor!" The San Magnolians bellowed with zeal and fervour.
Rifles and machine guns bark, the Legion ground forces crawled through the unrelenting barrage of bullets and mortar strikes. Smoking husks piled on, creating literal mountains of corpses and improvised cover for the following waves.
The Hornets struck hard and fast, eliminating anti-air guns and squads of soldiers in the buildings and trenches. The wails of the dying, clutching desperately at their eviscerated and mutilated bodies, were drowned out by the frenzied and tumultuous battlefield. Skorpion artillery batteries shelled the humans with incendiary munitions. Their victims were burnt alive, their agonizing screams spread fear and dread among their ranks as they helplessly watched their comrades tumble and roll around frenetically. The sticky incendiary gel chewed through their uniforms, flesh and bones, causing inhumane suffering and a slow death.
A handful of soldiers fled, unable to withstand more of the nightmarish massacre. They were swiftly gunned down by their Commissars and officers.
"There will be no coward in my battalion!" Shouted a Republic colonel, "Hold the line! For the Imperium! For San Magnolia!"
The soldiers let out a courageous and defiant battle cry. A shout of grim resolve and blind zeal. A cry of dead men walking.
"The planet broke before the Guard!"
The screams of the damned hammered Edyth's fragile mind, further weakening her body. She hissed as she stood against the bunker's concrete wall. Castinus quietly held her up as Commissar Rayne walked past them, observing the battlefield through a pair of magnoculars.
"Um… Madam Commissar," Lyonaal quipped meekly, "My Beloved suggested that we let miss Rosemary some rest before she collapses out of exhaustion."
Rayne turned to the eccentric psyker before shifting her bale gaze to Edyth. "Do we have a target?"
"Trying to find its source, ma'am," Edyth groaned out a reply, sweating profusely as the voices weighted heavily in her head.
"She'll rest once the target's destroyed." Rayne answered Lyonaal without batting an eye, "Weiss, get the squads ready, we'll move out in ten minutes."
"Yes, ma'am." The Cadian gave a rigid aquila before exiting the command bunker.
Edyth moaned in pain as the voices grew louder, as if trying to claw through her skull. Castinus caught her once more, his worried eyes turned to Rayne, waiting for further instructions. Then, as clear as a bell, a melancholic voice of a girl, no older than a teenager, pierced through to maelstrom of incorporeal voices.
"No…please… I don't want to die"
"Found it!" Edyth shouted suddenly, breathing heavily. She didn't realize that trails of hot tears trailed down her fair, unblemished skin.
The Valkyries soared through the late afternoon sky. The aircraft rattled as enemy anti-air guns peppered the cloudless sky. No words were exchanged between the Tempestus Scions and Krieg Grenadiers other than formal and curt responses through their vox comms. Weiss was reciting one last rite to her rifle's Machine Spirit while Krann made some last-minute check-up to his equipment.
"Thirty seconds." The pilot announced coolly.
"All right, lads! Thirty seconds 'till we drop!" The Tempestor announced loudly, "The mission's simple: Grenadiers will clear out a path through the enemy line. We find the target, blow it up and extract. Any questions?"
"No, sir!"
Approaching their target location, the escort Valkyries unleashed their rocket pods, the anti-armour munitions swirled erratically before pounding suspected enemy positions. The large Astra Militarum aircrafts landed rapidly; their cargo doors dropped open. Stormtroopers jumped into action, clearing out the landing zone until all Valkyries were airborne. Without skipping a beat, the Krieg Grenadiers took the lead with Rayne's strike following close behind and the Tempestus Scions taking the rear.
The Legion rear guard was soon alerted, platoons of Ameises and Jägers rushed to intercept the human commandos. The two forces soon clashed. Piercing las-rounds were exchanged with zipping bullets. Plasma and Melta fire carved destructive gaps among the Legion's ranks. The Grenadiers were merciless and efficient, wreaking havoc while the strike team and Black Dragoons sprinted for their target.
"I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die"
"It's close, I can sense it!" Edyth shouted to Commissar Rayne.
"Contact, 9!" Weiss hollered before tackling Krann to the ground.
A lone Grauwolf narrowly sliced the Moebian Veteran from the air. The machine menace swerved around, its twin high frequency blades itching to draw Imperial Guard blood.
"That's the target?" Krann asked while standing up, his Melta gun ready to blast anything in his path.
"No." Commissar Rayne answered dryly, executing the Dragoon-type drone with a Bolter round to its central processor.
"How did you know, ma'am?" A Tempestus Scion asked curiously.
"The Black Sheep wouldn't be too stupid to expose itself so early. Let's keep moving."
The others complied quietly. Edyth, though guiding the strike teams, was incapable of keeping pace with the well-trained Guardsmen and Stormtroopers. Her breath was ragged, her face brimmed with moisture as she sweat profusely from the extensive effort.
"Come on, Edyth! Keep up!" Weiss yelled sternly beside her, "You can keel over and die when the Emperor demands it!"
"I-I…" The young psyker muttered uneasily, feeling nauseous and on the border of collapse.
"Emperor's teeth!" The Cadian swore under her breath and suddenly picked up Edyth in her arms and regrouped with the rest of the strike team.
The pair passed Lyonaal's gaze and Weiss was quick and sharp as usual.
"Not one fragging word, Lyonaal."
"I saw nothing, angry lady." The psyker replied with raised disarming hands.
The strike teams fought through the woods, hot-shot lasrounds easily chewed through the Legion's ranks. The Black Dragoons' carapace armour shrugged off incoming rounds while the psykers raised energy shields and cast Warp fuelled projectiles.
"Oi, Edyth! About time you use that Warp sorcery of yours and tell us where the KARKING target is!" Krann yelled angrily after swathing away a Jäger with his Melta gun.
"It's close… about two hundred metres to our ri- no left!"
"Target sighted!" A Tempestus Scion reported.
"We'll handle it! Tempestor, kill the rest." Commissar Rayne instructed sternly.
"Yes, ma'am. Scions, initiate attack manoeuvre Sacrosanct! Don't let 'em get past us!"
The Black Dragoons disperse into smaller fire teams, each locking down and blocking gaps in their line and allowed Rayne's strike team to egress towards their target. The Grenadiers were holding the rear but are facing increasing enemy resistance and are taking considerable casualties.
The strike team soon spotted a lone Ameise standing in the middle of a clearing. Sensing a trap, Rayne ordered the Rejects to a form a firing line at the clearing's edge.
"Lyonaal, burst its brains out."
Lyonaal planted his staff in the dirt. He closed his eyes and brought his fists together, grinding them tightly. A blueish glow emanated from his closed eyes as flashes of Warp energy sparked through his arms. Slowly, he separated his fists, his fingers spread out and contracted, as if holding a spherical object. The Black Sheep suddenly halted in its place, frantically clawing in place to escape the psyker's grasp.
"Emperor damn it!" Weiss groaned in frustration, "Incoming contacts, right flank!"
"Shield Lyonaal, do not let them near him!" Rayne commanded with draconian authority.
Castinus cast out multiple bursts of energy shards. The homing Warp shards swiftly tore through the Legion's ranks, instantly eliminating them. Weiss provided long range cover fire, expertly taking down rapid moving Jägers and Suicide mines. Krann obliterated anything that got near with his Melta gun, blasting away and creating a graveyard of smoking metal husks. Rayne and Edyth provided close-quarters support, Laspistol and Bolt pistol sang as they shredded the machines with extreme prejudice.
Having concentrated enough energy, Lyonaal clasped his hands together forcefully. The Black Sheep's central processor imploded along with various circuitry. It jolted violently before it crumbled ungracefully on the dirt mound, black smoke coming out from its fried processor.
"Target eliminated, Commissar." Lyonaal announced with minimal effort, retrieving his staff and unholstered his Laspistol, "Now would be the time to get out of this dangerous spot."
"Yeah, no shite, yah spark head!" Krann replied begrudgingly.
"All strike teams, regroup to the LZ. Target eliminated." Rayne ordered through her vox headset.
The Rejects quickly regrouped with the Tempestus Scions and Krieg Grenadiers. The joint task force took over a hill and set their extraction point with red-coloured smoke before making their stand.
Swarms of Legion drones rushed at them like locusts rampaging through crops. The furious streaks of hot-shot lasguns scythed down their numbers and rapidly formed improvised obstacles with their carcasses.
"Ah! Fragging Hel!" Weiss yelled angrily, "Bastards shot me vox-caster!"
"Tempestor Hector, any sitrep on our extract?" Commissar Rayne inquired flatly, slicing a Jäger in two.
"Two minutes out, Commissar!" The veteran Scion replied, "They are encountering heavy anti-air fire."
"Sons and daughters of the Imperium! Stand fast and hold the ground! Only the Emperor demands when and where you can die!" Rayne bellowed sternly, invigorating the task force.
Despite being outnumbered, the elite stormtroopers surprisingly held the ground with minimal casualties. The Legion kept throwing more machines at the resilient humans, but to no avail, instead creating more obstacles and death funnels. Unfortunately, the enemy couldn't pull any Löwe or Dinosauria back, they were also bogged down by the San Magnolians in the frontline.
Her lasgun's barrel turned white hot when the unmanned machines started to retreat, much to Weiss's surprise. The last remaining Legion drones dragged whatever scrap available to them and routed. The Guardsmen let out a collective sigh of relief, the rush of adrenaline drained from their system.
Krann sat on a rock, panting heavily and wiping the sweat and soot from his face. "Stone me…" He muttered tiredly.
Rayne observed their surroundings. She took in the utter destruction the task force has done. Literal mounds of smoking and melting scraps of metal covered the clearing. Oil and other fluids caked the healthy green grass below the soles of their boots. A handful of Grenadiers laid dead at the foot of the hill, their hands tightly grasped around their weapons while their guts spilled out of massive wounds. It was a messy sight, but one the Imperium could relinquish. Once more, the Emperor's light and fury were stronger than whatever the Legion could throw at them. She mumbled a small prayer, thanking the Holy Emperor for His divine intervention.
"It's starting to get too quiet… a big attack is coming soon." The Cadian veteran voiced her concerns and uneasiness.
"How do you know that? Could it be that you're-" Lyonaal gasped loudly and theatrically, "-a filthy psyker too?" He asked sarcastically.
"Aannd there goes my peace and quiet!" Krann grumbled and glared at Lyonaal.
The banter didn't last long as the familiar roars of Valkyrie engines echoed nearby. Relief and content could be seen in everyone's faces, even the Rejects. Rayne smiled softly at the sight, glad to have another successful mission without any of them killed. Though they could get on her nerves, she made sure that each member of her strike team would come out alive.
Quietly, the task force embarked in their aircrafts and immediately returned to base for a debrief.
Liberté et Égalité, Republic of San Magnolia, March 22nd SY 2149
Blood and guts splattered across the catacomb's wall. Terrified screams and sporadic gunfire were swiftly drowned out by the cacophonies of heavy stomping feet and mauls brutally crushing their victims.
Another inept traitor crumbled on the stone-cold ground. His right arm was completely pulverised, his legs shattered and fractured. As he lay in his own pool of blood and urine, the young Alba looked up with wide, horrified eyes. He stared dreadfully at the hulking creatures; they were large masses of muscles equipped with towering shields and crude armour that were essentially made of scrap metal and tank treads bolted together. Armed with large maces or gigantic automatic shotguns, the Astra Militarum has unleashed five of these ungodly monsters to hunt them down. They were not human, they were brutes, the size of ogres; merciless, brutal and savage.
The ogre looked down on the dying man, its face completely covered by a face mask and beady green optical devices. Without hesitation, the ogre crushed the man's head with its foot, pieces of skull and brain matters flushed out under its sole.
"Dats for betrayin' da Emp-rah." The Ogryn stated gruffly. The Bone'Ead Bullgryn turned to the squad of Black Dragoons standing behind his squad, "All clear, sah! We crumped 'ese little ones real good." He reported candidly.
"Nice work, big man." The Tempestor noted with an approving nod, "I'll make sure the Commissar rewards your mates with extra rations, okay?"
The Bullgryn grinned widely behind his mask, "I'd like dat, sah. Me and me mates 'aven't gotten an proper meal in ages, sah."
"Duly noted, Fragg."
The kill teams egressed further deeper in the catacombs, the Ogryns made short work of any traitors that stood in their way, decorating the macabre corridors with more gore. Soon, they reached their target. One of the Bullgryns busted the door open, the slab of steel crushed two Albas against the wall. The remaining "Patriotic Knights" opened fire, their rounds harmlessly bounced off the Bullgryn's improvised carapace armour and Brute shield. The Abhuman auxiliar charged at them, using his shield to bash a traitor away before swinging his Power Maul wildly at the rest.
In seconds, the panicked screams were silenced. The Ogryn painted the command room with flesh and intestines of fallen traitors, leaving only one alive, their target: Brigadier General Erwin Riegel, the disgraced commander of the Republic's 10th Armoured Brigade.
He grabbed the general by the throat and flung him at the Tempestor's feet. The Scion knelt down and creaked his masked head to the side.
"Brigadier General Erwin Riegel, by Imperial Law, you're under arrest for conspiring and committing treasonous actions against the Imperium of Man and the Golden Throne. You will be judged by the Interrogator and you will be publicly executed in the following days. Anything you say and do may affect the date of your execution." He stated monotonously.
"Fuck. You." Riegel hissed with spite.
The Black Dragoon laughed dryly, "You're lucky the Interrogator wants you alive, or else I'll have Trudd over there beat you until your dying breath."
The Scion struck the general with his hot-shot laspistol, knocking him unconscious. The final pocket of the "Patriotic Knights" has been eliminated, the other smaller groups would disperse and fade after the Scions will expose their leader's battered corpse to the streets. It would be a clear and final message: kneel or die.
The traitor shall burn. Thou shalt kill. Thou shalt not yield. Thy hand is justice. For Mankind stands upon the shoulders of the martyred.