Rogan and Jeraiah looked on, horrified, as the Changecaster pulled its ritual dagger from the augury pilon. The cogitators were enveloped by sorcerous flame, and they failed, one by one. The daemon grinned, waved at them, and winked out of realspace.
---
In the streets of Hive Dalet, Lexandro was shouting into the long range vox, only to be answered by static buzz, and the traitor marines' guns thundering around him.
---
At a short distance away, Mason was regaining conscience and using all limbs to get back his footing, just as the Chaos Lord twisted his powered blade in the torso of Codicier Mourdom. The librarian went limp with a strangled cry.
---
Rogan stopped, his mind whirring.
'It must have something to do with Lexandro. Traitors must be here in force if they managed to summon this host of daemons and bind them to their will.'
Jeraiah nodded.
'Indeed. And now, we have no way of reaching him, for sure. We cannot even try.'
They stood there while the marines secured the hangar, thinking. Rogan finally piped up.
'We could re-route the long-range auguries to the surface of the planet.'
Jeraiah nodded, again.
'It would leave us defenseless against threats from space.'
'I am aware of that, Epistolary. But we have our brothers down there. Fighting. Dying, most likely. We must reach them, no matter the cost.'
Rogan switched to the vox channel linking to the bridge, relaying his orders. The ship captain protested, but was rebuked, and he set to work with alacrity. Tech-priests begged the machine spirits for forgiveness, as they re-sanctified the appropriate protocols. A couple of servitors fried their circuits during the unexpected operation, but they were quickly replaced. The strike cruiser set its auguries to scanning the planet.
---
Having shaken the motionless body of Mourdom off his blade, the traitor Lord took a slow step towards Mason. Then another. And another. A Chaos Marine raised his bolter, but the Lord bade him wait with a hiss of the vox. It was his kill.
Mason crawled backwards. His servo arms could barely help. He estimated his combat efficiency at around 8%.
The Chaos Lord kept his slow pace, whirling his crackling sword. His vox grill emitted a low growl, promising Mason no mercy or respite.
The Techmarine stopped. The end was inevitable.
The traitor hissed, and closed in.
Mason pulled out his melta charge, and threw it at the jamming tower, aiming for a point previously weakened by krak missile fire.
The traitor lunged at him.
The bombs exploded on contact.
The world disappeared in a shower of rockcrete debris.
---
'khhhhh- is Captain Lexandro. We are being overwhelmed. Sacrum Pugnus, are you there?'
'We need reinforcements. Are you there?'
'Is anybody there?'
---
'Captain Rogan-'
'Out of my way! Engage lance batteries, precision bombardment on my mark. Teleportarium, follow up immediately. Mark...'
---
Horn braying, the Defiler approached the battered ruin, blasting at it with shells and bolts. Lexandro took cover, then shot back a gout of super heated plasma. All his tanks were already disabled, and traitor marines were climbing over them. This ruin was their final redoubt, and it would not last much longer. To his left, a Devastator fell backwards, helm ruined by the impact of exploding bolts. To his right, a Tactical Marine was seared by plasma fire. He looked out through the ruined wall. The traitors' reinforcements seemed endless. On the causeway leading up to the square, tanks were grinding their way up, each sporting blasphemous sigils. Yes, they would die this day. No, they would not die well.
The Defiler stretched its claws, reaching for the ruin... and it exploded, as a single ruby red beam of light hit it from the sky.
The traitors froze, confused.
Multiple beams of light stroke tanks simultaneously. The explosions rocked the streets, as power armored bodies were thrown around like ragdolls.
A moment of silence stretched on, as both sides looked on incredulously. And then it broke with the pop of displaced air. From the settling dust, first company Terminators strode out, engaging the traitors with storm bolter and assault cannon.
Lexandro gripped his thunder hammer.
'Brothers, we have been delivered. Let nobody say that the Sons of Dorn do not put up a good fight. In the name of the Emperor... charge!'
---
*** aboard the Sacrum Pugnus, several hours later ***
'... and with what we've learned, I have been able to faintly pierce the augury jams. The outlying hives have some activity, but I estimate no more than the number of scattered traitors we have encountered in Hive Dalet. Hives Beth and Gimel are much more active, however; and Hive Aleph is teeming with activity. I need more time and analysis to divine what exactly is happening.'
'Very well, Brother Mason. I must commend you on your analysis. Time, however, is of the essence; and a resource we sorely lack. We must investigate this further, and now.'
'No, Lexandro. Your latest investigation has cost us too many battle-brothers and has depleted the chapter armory. Lord Guilliman has promised us reinforcements as soon as-'
'As soon as what, Rogan? Do you wish us to sit on this ship? Do you want to see the results of whatever blasphemous thing they're doing down there when they finish it? This is not a mere chaos raid. They did not kill and pillage and flee back to the Eye. They staid. They are garrisoning the hives. They have layers of defense in well-set positions. And we have no inkling as to why.'
'And just what do you propose? Another armored spearhead?'
'Out of the question. We still don't know what to expect. We have the advantage of speed, but we mustn't go too far too fast. We'll land outside Hive Gimel, and proceed on foot. We'll split into two task forces, to cover more ground, then meet up if we encounter heavy resistance.'
After a moment of thinking, Rogan relented. With the decision made, they could go on to split up their forces and discuss tactics. But first, Lexandro turned to the techmarine once more.
'Brother Mason, notify the chapter artificers. Awaken the Armor Indominus.'
---
Techmarine Mason surveyed the ruined cityscape around him, his idle mind noting several excellent locations for possible fortifications. He had time for frivolities such as that. The Thunderfire Cannon rumbling in front of him was a mobile artillery piece - as much as it gets - but it still moved at a slow pace.
His visor caught sudden movement behind a ruined hab-block. It disappeared in a second, but it was there. He was sure of it. He directed the Cannon into the cover of another ruined building, opening his short range vox channel in the same time.
'Brothers, on alert.'
The Tactical squad in front immediately took up defensive positions, propping the heavy bolter in place. To the left, the giant Redemptor Dreadnought moved into cover with earthshaking steps. The marines stood still, straining to catch sound or motion. There was nothing. No, there was-
With a soft buzz, a blasphemous warmachine lifted into the air behind the ruined hab-block. A Bloat Drone! Its underslung weapon, a three-muzzled fleshy cannon, whirred to life and bombarded the squad in front ineffectually.
'Open fire!' - shouted Mason into the vox, operating the controls of the Cannon furiously. As the artillery piece settled into a fixed position, he switched to long range comms.
'Brother-Captain Lexandro, this is Mason. We have encountered a Death Guard warmachine. Requesting immediate support.'
His next thought was drowned out in the shouts and cries of a horde of cultists, emerging from a hab-block farther down the street. Grimly, Mason unleashed his cannon's fusillade into them.
No comments:
Post a Comment