Lexandro looked over the tortured plains. His Fists formed up around him, fortifying ruins and taking up firing positions. The traitors advanced on their positions, howling blasphemous battle cries. Lexandro took it all in, then gave a single command.
"Fire!"
As one, the Imperial Fists opened fire on the enemy.
Lasbeams and autocannon shells exploded amongst the daemon engines. Its side imploded, a Bloat Drone crashed to the ground in a putrid explosion, showering the Plague Marines behind it in gore and pus.
Superior Cawl-pattern auto bolt rifles opened up in disciplined volleys, laying low rank after rank of traitor marines.
Up above, a Stormtalon zoomed forward, engines screaming, weapons blazing. A lumbering Helbrute exploded in its wake.
Lexandro permitted himself a smile. And then an entire squad's worth of green dots winked out in his vision.
"Mouga'Ry ... what happened to the Aggressors?"
"I... do not know, Brother-Captain. The ground just swallowed them up. This foul warp-born sorcery penetrates even the earth here. They..."
In the distance, right behind the enemy lines, the ground buckled, and spit out hulking yellow-armored forms. Immediately, they opened up on the traitor marines in front of them, catching them by surprise.
"Brothers... sell your lives dearly. You shall forever be remembered as the Emperor's finest."
And that was all that Lexandro could spare for them, for the traitors themselves reached firing distance. Bolt shells and streaks of plasma bombarded his lines. To the left, buzzing daemon engines advanced; to the right, a group of suicidal Berserkers emerged from a blown-up Rhino to crash into the marines up front.
---
Judging by his senses, Lexandro felt that the battle had been going on for hours on end. Judging by his armor's chronometer, it had been a scant few minutes. Already, the ground was strewn with corpses; traitors and loyalists lay side by side, locked in eternal struggle. The Emperor's custodian guard had come, but failed to turn the tide. Lady Sebille and her companions had come, but reality had already been torn apart, and daemons flooded realspace, hungry for blood and souls. In the distance, the warp storm had formed a giant vortex visible to the naked eye, promising only madness to those who would gaze upon it for long. Lexandro opened his comm-link.
"Brother Jeraiah. Advise on our progress."
"It is not enough, Brother-Captain. Should we reach the source of the disturbance within the next couple of minutes, something might be done. However, even if the fields were empty of these accursed traitors, this would be nigh impossible."
"That is your assessment, Epistolary? That we have failed?"
"It gives no pleasure to say it, Brother-Captain... but it is."
Lexandro sighed, but wasted no time tuning in to the general comm channel.
"This is Lexandro. We are late, brothers. Abandon the field: retreat to the Thunderhawks."
Dozens of voices chimed in, voicing their disbelief. In any other situation, Lexandro would have been shocked by the disobedience. Right then, he was too numb to react. A strong voice cut in, silencing the others.
"Captain, this is madness! I have not even reached the front lines! Surely, the Stoic Judgement shall turn the tide!"
Another voice, deeper, wiser, responded.
"Stand down, Lady Sebille. The Captain's assessment is correct. We are being overwhelmed, and are no closer to our goal. Fall back to your bulk lander. The Custodians shall cover the retreat."
"Shield-Captain Rholik?"
"He has fallen. This is Shield-Captain Maverick. I have shouldered his mantle."
---
Lexandro looked out of the viewport of the Sacrum Pugnus. He had given orders to load up the cyclonic torpedoes; however, the warp storm had engulfed the planet, and tendrils of it had begun questing towards the ships in orbit. The small Imperial flotilla was now in retreat, going full speed towards the edge of the system. Hopefully, they would reach the warp translation point before the growing storm blocked all travel.
A nervous ensign hurried through the room. The tension on the ship was palpable among the crew, human and space marine alike. Lexandro turned to the man to speak a few calming words - more to ease his own nerves - when a blinding flash of black light pulsed through his field of vision. Lexandro screamed in unison with every other living being on the ship.
---
As unexpectedly as it rose, the pressure eased. Lexandro recovered quickly; the ensign did not, remaining sprawled on the deck, nose, eyes, ears bleeding. Wiping his brow, the Captain noticed that the warp-born pressure that had been mounting ever since they entered the system was gone completely. He rushed to the viewport. Ulpia III was gone.
His comm-link chimed almost immediately.
"Brother-Captain. This is Jeraiah. Are you near a viewport?"
"I am, Epistolary. And I see, though I find it hard to believe."
"The warp storm is gone as well, Captain. The immaterium is calm. The entire star system is clean."
"That is not a word I would use for what has happened here, Epistolary. Nevertheless, there is nothing else to do here. Prepare for warp translation. The Emperor protects."
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