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Gloriana Class Battleship Ultus-Solis
High Orbit Anchor Over 20-63. Locally known as PraxiaThe Ultus-Solis turned with the world below, keeping the sensor-scrambling surge of heat and light from the system’s sun at its back for now. This gave 20-63 the illusion of static behavior from the Citadel-observation deck of the Battleship, the vast ocean of the world’s Western hemisphere sphere sparkling in what would be its midday sun.
Unusually, Sekhmetara rested alone, reclining on a cushioned bench made for her inhumanly grand physiology, her eyes on the dataslate in her hand as opposed to the cosmic view. Her mind blitzed through the information available, a task she had done several times since the alert had reached her fleet. 20-63, known by the locals as Praxia, had seemed to be a routine compliance, notable only in its ease of transition. A splinter fleet of her own expeditionary fleet had encountered the planet while scouting for offshoots of the Xenos enemy she had still been engaged in scouring from 20-62. The local leadership had been more than willing to incorporate into the Imperium and the society had needed only limited restructuring and no deployment of Astartes forces. That was until a recent uprising on the planet that had seen much of the traditional ruling caste murdered, along with the Imperial administrators which had begun to initiate full compliance. The sudden turn had been something unexpected. What had been far more worthy of note was the technological capability employed by the uprising, several stages beyond what had previously been observed in use by the inhabitants. Enough to threaten even Astartes forces on the ground. What the rebels had perhaps not counted on was the proximity of not one, but two, Legion Expeditionary fleets as reports of the revolution reached Imperial command, passed on in dire warning by the last survivors of the Administration on the world, likely now presumed dead.
Initially, Sekhmetara did not wish for support from another Legion, while 20-63 had been brought into compliance by only a recon splinter of her own fleet, and without any of her Legion taking part, it was still a world brought into the fold under a digital signature at least associated with her. She specialized in ensuring enduring loyalty to the Imperium, this was her problem to solve. That was until the identity of the reinforcing fleet had been revealed to her. The Serpents, Nelchitl. It had been too long since she had met with one of her favored siblings, and she relished the reunion, even under the circumstances. She set aside the dataslate, and rose in a shimmer of silk, the gown she wore wafting gently around her form as she closed the distance between herself and the observation glass, her fingers pressing to it as she examined the world beyond. Serene in its axis. A slight grin tugged at her features as she considered how long this serenity would survive the vengeful rage of two daughters of the Emperor united.
“Sire, we are detecting warp-transition at the system’s edge, hail-codes are responsive.” The voice of one of the Mithran deck officers aboard the Bridge chimed in her ear. She spent relatively little time while deployed aboard the Ultus-Solis, preferring instead to lead from her De-Facto Flagship, The Ashanti. It was a smaller battleship, more suited to the rapid turn of warfare she orchestrated. The crew here were more reverent with her, as befitting a ship that functioned more as her mobile palace and bastion than steed of war.
“My sister?” She responded simply, her eyes remaining on the planet as her hand withdrew from the glass.
“Yes Sire, Enemy emplacements are also tracking their entry.” Such a gesture was futile for the moment, the rebels had their hands on dubiously advanced technology, but they remained a substantial threat only to craft in Low-orbit. The edge of the solar system was undoubtedly well beyond the effective range of all but their most advanced weaponry, which could not be fired in substantial enough payload to convincingly reach any targets through the Imperium’s countermeasures. Every now and then the void shields of her own fleet, remaining at High-Orbit, would flare as brief impacts made it through the web of interlocking countermeasures, but never enough to risk damage to even the shields themselves.
“Ready the ship to accept them.” Sekhmetara turned as she spoke, in another elegant swirl of silken robes, her bare feet padding on the carpeted deck as she made her way to leave and prepare.
Hours LaterSublight travel across a solar system was not a sudden affair, and so by the time the Expeditionary fleet the Serpents had arrived with and meshed with that of the Tears, preparations for a reunion of Legions had been made for some time. The largest, and grandest, of the Ultus-Solis’ landing bays, resplendent in Mithran artifice of orange, gold and brown, had been a hive to activity. The upper gangways had been cleared for the remembrancers and artificers attached to the fleet so that they might spectate the grand event, while the deck itself was lined with cohorts of the Tears of Dawn and their Auxilia allies. They did not attend in as large a number as could have been present within the space, as some of her siblings might have, robbing all sense of personal intimacy from the reunion. Instead, she had handpicked notable formations from the last campaign on 20-62, favoring newer members of the fleet who had blooded themselves well in their first actions.
At the forefront of the gathering of might, the primarch herself stood in her warplate, the predominantly black armour, highlighted with golds and emblazoned in places with orange and red. Her inner circle stood with her, an eclectic group of figures of varying builds. Two were true female astartes, her First Captain in her own plate coloured to match her Primarch, her Chief Librarian in the more traditional orange plate of the Legion. Alongside them, the rather more human and male individual, Kvasi Khafre, garbed in the uniform of the Imperial Questoris rather than the robes of a Mithran noble. He was tall and solidly built for a human, but remained decidedly the shorter of the four.
“I should invest in stilts.” He mumbled to Sekhmetara as they stood at the head of the procession, awaiting the immediate arrival of the Serpents, adjusting some of the service medals pinned to his chest, his thick Mithran accent cloying harmoniously across the Low Gothic words. “That, or I could simply attend all these in hunter’s skein.” The Mithran term for the Questoris suits still caused some amount of tribulation among the more inflexible of the Imperium.
“Such tricks are beneath you brother, I know you have enough pride in you to more than make up for such silly practicalities of physical existence,” Sekhmetara whispered back, her face barely moving in the process, her lips in a slight smirk. In the next moment, the preparatory claxons sounded, the initial layer of armoured plating retracting to open the vast expanse of the landing bay to the void, the atmosphere held in by the shielding.
Within the Stormbird
Tzompantli the Primarch of the XVII Legion stood resplendent in her battle plate. Newly restored from the fighting on Arel, Nelchitl’s armor shimmered without the faintest blemish to give away the combat it had just endured. Dim red running lights revealing only freshly painted and polished plate that any mortal would gaze upon in awe. The Stormbird turned gracefully as it approached the
Ultus-Solis, the unmistakable transition of an integrity shield giving away the fact that they had entered into the Gloriana’s hold even before the pilots voice sounded in Nelchitl’s ear to tell her what she already knew.
A sense of thrill filled Nelchitl’s senses as the Stormbird touched down gently on it’s landing legs and the engines began to power down. There was a hiss of hydraulics and a subtle release of locking mechanisms as the Stormbirds ramp slowly fell away. The thrill of what was to come only began to build as the ramp slowly lowered to the deck, revealing the magnificent interior of the
Ultus-Solis. Before the ramp had fully lowered the honor guard of Serpents began their descent. The bulky figure of First Captain Nenetl in her terminator armor exited first followed closely by the form of Captain Mayalen, recently recovered from her wounds sustained in the final assault of the Arel capital and carrying a pride obvious to all even as she exited the Stormbird on a brand new augmetic leg.
Next was the Emerald Priestess herself followed closely behind by an unmistakably beautiful human female even in the presence of the two Primarchs. The woman wore a brilliant dress of emerald and was followed out of the stormbird by another pair of Astartes splendid in their turquoise armor, helmets in the crooks of their arms.
The newly painted and polished rising sun on Nelchitl’s chest plate appeared to be blazing as she entered the light of the embarkation deck, its vibrance only outdone by the smile of the demi-god that wore it as she laid eyes on her favorite sister.
“Sekhmetara! My sister! It has been too long!” Nelchitl boomed as she leapt off the final half of the ramp making the crossing to her sister and her retinue in a matter of seconds. Stopping before the group of Tears she surveyed them all in turn, watching as pride swelled in their eyes and they stood a little taller at the opportunity to represent their sisters in this meeting of beings beyond them. Her eyes passed over the figure of a human male and continued on as if he were no different than the assembled Astartes before her.
“What a host you have gathered, young too they seem.” she turned to look upon the two Captains she had brought with her and smiled as she laughed, “Nothing like the skeletons I drag around with me!” she turned back to her sister and motioned for the human woman to come to her side.
“Lady Catalina Cadaval, of House Cadaval, Questor Imperialis.” the woman introduced herself with a dignified curtsy to the Primarch of the XXth Legion, the emerald of the woman’s dress flowing softly as she did and wavy locks of brunette hair shimmering around her head as she rose to stand fully aloft at nearly equal height to that of Khafre.
“Would that I could fight alongside your ‘Skeletons’ on every planet.” Sekhmetara jibed in return, her face set in a beaming smile as she closed the remaining distance to her sister. First their forearms met in the respect sign of the warrior, before she pulled Nelchitl into an embrace, resting their foreheads together in an intimate familial greeting from the noble houses of Mithra. “It is always too long, and forever too short.” She spoke more softly, before stepping backwards, her smile turning on her sister’s entourage with the full force of a primach’s emotion. At the greeting from the human women, Sekhmetara’s already infectious good mood seemed to extend further. “An honour, my lady. The Questor Imperialis are held in the highest respect here.” She replied, before inclining her head towards her adoptive brother, who closed his fist over his chest in a dignified salute.
“Lord Kvasi Khafre, Questor Imperialis.” On technicality, her brother had rejected his rightful mantle as Lord of their Household upon his decision to ‘ride’ with Sekhmetara’s first expeditionary fleet from Mithra, and while by all official Imperial accounts his leadership of the Knights Lances was synonymous, such was not the case in Mithran culture. While more martially dressed than his counterpart, the smooth coal of his skin and intricate braiding of his hair more than spoke for his noble heritage.
As the introductions were made, the cohorts of the Tears on the deck turned in lockstep, both saluting the primarchs and clearing an overly generous channel for them to reach the exit from the landing bay, the excitement of the motion seeming to pass through the crowds of remembrancers above, albeit in a far less organised fashion.
“As ever, we have a war to plan.” Sekhmetara spoke, motioning with one arm down the column of space, offering her sister the first stride to the exit.
“Such is the price of the things we do for Father, for the Imperium.” Nelchitl responded quietly to her sister before the two stepped away from their embrace. Stealing a glance back at her Captains, Nelchitl could not help but notice the liveliness in their steps as they attempted to hide the swelling of pride they felt at the Primarch of the XXths words.
“Careful Sister, you may steal some of my best if you keep up your praise.” Nelchitl quipped as the two Captains made their way up to the group.
Quietly turning her head to Khafre she smiled and let out a laugh of amusement, “That you still stand since the last time we met is a tribute to your abilities, though I must admit that it was never in question given your position. I feel the Lady here and you will have much to learn from one another.” Nelchitl responded directly to her sister's adopted brother. Turning her attention back to Sekh she nodded in agreement and took great pleasure in leading the two out through the perfect formation of Tears before them.
The War Room of the Ultus-Solis was perhaps not quite as grand as one who knew the Primarch of the Tears of Dawn by reputation alone might expect. The stylised ambience associated with Mithran culture was still present, but in a more understated, personal way. The central holoith dominated the room, with furnishings all around for an intimate inner circle of Astartes and other such officers to speak their piece in the waging of war. Refreshments were always well stocked beforehand, reducing the need for any unnecessary hangers on, but also serving to highlight a sense of equality among those present. No one waited on anyone, within Sekhmetara’s most private council.
The holoith projected a full image of 20-63, static in its placement as opposed to accounting for rotation. The even blue light of the projection picking out key details on the surface, from geographical notations to the known details of enemy forces. 20-63 was a world a few percent more aquatic than Terra during the bygone age of Humanity’s first forays into the stars, comprising a number of separate island-continents and smaller bodies of land.
“Bombardment is next to ineffective.” First Captain Ahonsa was the first to speak anything of tactical importance, motioning to the pin pricks marking out the urban centres of the world. “Whatever previously concealed artifice this rebellion has implemented, it includes void-shield technology to at least match our own, and they’ve projected them over the cities that have joined the uprising.” The First Captain’s hand drifting to note three green dots on the projection, marking out the only urban centres which had thus far remained loyal to the Imperium, already under desperate siege. “The Loyalist forces are outmatched, almost as badly as if they had attempted to fend off Astartes the first time we found this world.”
The use of ‘we’ brought a slight frown to Sekhmetara’s features, while she had accepted the slight to her pride in order to reunite with her sister and the Serpents, she was still deeply uncomfortable with the idea this new insurrection could be placed at her own feet, or even the Tears, and it took her force of will to not bring this petulant clarification up. “What our ships cannot reach, we must sweep clear then. A true war for the Astartes if there ever was one.”
Nelchitl sat reclined in a chair of such craftsmanship that she could practically feel its cushions through the ceramite of her armor. Absentmindedly she spun a small knife that had been provided with a dish of fruits around her forefinger and listened to the First Captain speak and the response from her sister. There were a great many questions lingering in her mind, though the want to actually ask them escaped the Primarch’s attention. Instead she inclined her head to that of her entourage, now augmented by the arrival of a second Stormbird and several human officers.
The first to speak up was Lord Commander Mandred Leben, a craggy old man of considerable weathering that even the best of the Mechanicum’s rejuvenat treatments could not erase. He leaned forward, the mass of metals on his chest clinking quietly as he did, “Though I have not an answer for the overall campaign, as too much remains yet unknown,” he shot a glance sideways to Nelchitl as he spoke, the implication of his comment threatening to boil over the Primarch’s relaxed visage as he insulted his sister so publicly, “what I can say for certain is that we must reinforce what we hold. To have to launch a planetary assault on such a formidable foe as this? Certainly would be worth far more than what I can give these holdouts in the next cycle.”
Nelchitl, not leaning forward from her position dug daggers into Leben with her eyes as she nodded approval at his suggestion.
Next to speak was her own First Captain, the Terminator armor hissing quietly as Nenetl raised a gauntleted fist to point at the next nearest cities to those of the remaining loyalists planetside, “Has the feasibility of an assault been tested? I could personally lead a capture mission on an outlying rebellious city, gain some breathing room for those we still hold.”
The eyes of the Primarch of the XX legion fell on the wizened human as he spoke. The famed golden orbs of her iris showing no obvious tells of her emotion at a response which came dangerously close to a rebuttal. The Tears of Dawn themselves were used to open dialogue within these chambers, but guests were so rarely among them here, it was a protocol all in of itself. The only noise for a few moments came from the humming of the hololith and the
tink, tink of Sekhmetara's armoured fingers drumming on her own arm, before the Serpents' First Captain spoke.
"The only forces planetside, without including the Loyalists and whatever garrison forces may remain, are our recon teams." It was the Primach herself who answered the query, her eyes returning to the spherical map hovering in the air before them all. Her arms had been crossed before, but the gesture now seemed more guarded than casual, before she extended one gauntlet, flexing the fingers on her hand. The motion turned the world, before magnifying to a specific region, the world's equatorial island continent and home to the remaining three green dots, albeit with a fair number of red 'hostile' markers as well. Whatever the case, the Primach had not responded to the near-rebuke with either acceptance or rage.
"The main starport remains loyal to the Emperor, which is at least one blessing, we can set down whatever we require at least in this region." Ahonsa continued her appeasement of the details shown before them, one of the three green dots temporarily highlighted. "The rebels know this as well, as their greatest focus is currently set upon the city, Ilos. If we need to relieve pressure anywhere, it's there." The dark-skinned Astartes continued, her features almost miraculously free of scarring for one of her rank, in part due to the freshness of the title. Her hair, usually a stark white and styled in the war braids common among the tears, almost looked blue from the reflection of the Hololith.
"Very well, a test of their defences then." Sekhmetara spoke again. "The first wave of our deployment will reinforce the loyalist cities. First Captain Nenetl, the most pressing target to fall first is the city the locals know as Fios, its position allows them continuous bombardment of Ilos." As the Primach spoke, one of the red dots closest to the highlighted green point flared with an outline. Even on a digitised map, the distances seemed obviously proximate. "If my sister agrees, that is the first strike I believe you should make, The Adzera will support you, and I'm sure the Khafre Lance will be eager for the glory." Using the colloquial name of the Tears 6th Chapter, the Primach of the XX Legion moved another finger, adding the notation to the map, notably clearly marking the Serpents First Captain as the clear overall commander of the engagement.
Finally, the Primach's gaze settled on Leben once again, before, in a dangerously friendly tone, Sekhmetara asked, "If I may ask, my Lord, do you consider me a complete fool?"
“Of course Lord, the honor will be mine to lead such capable forces planetside. I assure you that you will not regret your choice.” First Captain Nenetl thanked the Primarch of the XXth before shrinking back into her seat as the demigod took on Lord Commander Leben’s seeming petulance.
The old man however, did not shrink at the comment, in fact there was barely a hint of any sort of reaction at all on the age-weathered features of his face as Sekhmetara brought her attention back to him. Though Nelchitl would have been delighted had Leben managed to hold his composure in any other situation, she was furious at the insult he had given her sister and she as well waited anxiously for his answer.
“Quite the contrary Lord.” Leben began as he sat a bit straighter in his seat, medals clinking as he did, “I think you a Primarch. A perfect being of war and diplomacy, molded by the Emperor’s hands in His image. I think you Fleetmaster of grand armadas that stride the cosmos themselves. The Head of 75,000 of the Emperor’s greatest warriors to ever live, and the leader of inexhaustible Auxilia.” he deigned his head at the hololith as he spoke, “I believe you in a position to awe a mortal such as myself with your strategic knowledge, your understanding of the world we sit silently above and the forces we call our enemies below.”
“You have not met many of my siblings, then, if you think such traits make us impervious to the odd foolishness.” Sekhmetara spoke flippantly, matching the man’s resolute nature in the face of her Emperor-crafted superiority with a casual nature as befitting their surroundings. “Your comments are noted, my Lord, and should I request or suggest such a broad action in one swoop, I shall hold your council in mind.” The Primach of the Tears of Dawn at last moved in full, taking one step and lowering herself onto one of the available seats designed for a Primach’s build, her hand wafting through the air again to pull the holographic display back to a full display of the world.
“I have been given no reason to doubt your capability, First Captain, and I do not anticipate any action upon this world showing me otherwise. While you test their defences, I believe my sister and I shall have to see to the defence of the Starport, loathe as I am sure we both are to such war, it is paramount to the war effort should we wish to land the entirety of our forces. My Legion’s aeronautical formations will keep the enemy on their toes planetwide, while we forge a ‘beachhead,” She spoke now with the imperious authority she was known for, albeit not among the more personable quarters within which they currently sat, at the last moment, dipping her head towards her sister. “Unless you have any suggestions?”
Nelchitl sat silent for a moment as her sister gave her a chance to make any motions of her own, but instead she waved a dismissive gauntleted hand at the thought, “Anything that I could suggest would merely burden your plans, simply point me at what needs to die or be ours instead of theirs and it shall be done.” Nelchitl offered before sitting up fully in her seat. She quietly surveyed her officers and held her gaze on Commander Leben just a brief moment longer than the rest before she was satisfied that none had anything to add.
PlanetfallThe war began with as much force and severity as could be expected of the two aggressive legions spearheading the assault. The greater portion of the assault touched down in Ilos. A defensive action in name, neither Legion, or their primarch, was inclined to sit back or dig in. The surge of force and movement became a counterattack rushing to sweep the besieging forces away, the air roaring with the engines and firepower of Stormbirds and Thunderhawks as the wrath of the Emperor was brought down on those who rejected his word.
Under the cover of the vast arsenal of firepower unleashed and the more than distracting presence of two Primarch’s in the field, a splinter force of the assembled legions and their supportive forces diverged from the initial objective, striking at the smaller nearby city of Fios. Situated much higher on the slopes of one of the world’s few mountain ranges, it’s position in rebel hands had allowed continued bombardment of the loyalist city. Unfortunately for the rebels, terrain was no great bastion against the fury of the Astartes. The first strike would no doubt have to be fast and brutal, carving out a significant portion of the city to allow for the Knight Lances to be dropped into position.
In most cases, any member of the Tears of Dawn would be loath to find themselves beneath the direct command of any Captain from another legion, perhaps seeing it as a blow to their martial pride. The bond between the Tears and the Serpents, while not the most ancient of Legionary relations, was fierce. Every Astartes-Sister assigned to the command of the Serpents First Captain was as dedicated to showing her the strength of the Legion as they would be to any of their own commanders. This was no different for Captain Bahati Khafre as her forces blazed into Fios. The young captain felt not only the urge of all sisters of her Legion to prove the capability of the Tears despite the generally small scale of the Legion, but also the weight of her dynastic name. She was the only member of her sire’s adoptive family to be young enough to join the Legion, and each day sought to prove herself and her bloodline anew. Right now, her task was to move in support of the Serpents main thrust into the city. As was common for the rites of war the Tears held most dear, the encarmine forces of Mithra’s Legion had struck deep into rebel territory, deploying via air assault to cripple key installations while their sisters in The Serpents of the Sun acted as a more decisive, crushing strike. Bahati’s company, the 5th of the 6th Chapter, had destroyed the first of the enemy macro-anti-air cannon bastions, paving the way for the bulky dropships of the Knights Questoris to make an approach. Now they simply needed to fight their way through fierce enemy resistance to unite with the main force.
The marines, emblazoned in the orange and gold of their legion, pushed through the besieged city with great speed and purpose, sycthing through enemy formations before they even knew the threat was at their back. The foul xenos-like technology of the foe enabled them to pose great risk to even Astartes, sleek energy based weapons which hummed with a force similar to their own plasma guns, and discharging bolts of power just as fearsome. Ultimately, however, those they had fought so far were still rebels, disillusioned armed militia. For all the advanced technology they had, they crumpled beneath the advance of the Tears, particularly while caught unawares. The sky above the Legionnaires still screamed with the jet engines of Stormbirds, the gunships venting the Imperium’s ire on the city continuously, preventing the enemy from moving into position to threaten the isolated pockets of Tears of Dawn forces before they could reunite with the Serpents. It was not a strategy without risk to their pilots, and Bahati momentarily threw herself into cover within a crumpled ruin of a building as a gunship detonated in the air above her forces, streaking the streets below with superheated metal and plasma. The Tears were masters in aeronautical warfare, however, and such events were rare.
“Two minutes until contact, Captain.” The vox system within her helm relaid the message from a passing Thunderhawk tracking their motion along with the allied forces they were fighting towards.
“My thanks, hunt well, Sister.” She voxed her own response, before redirecting the tactical alert to her whole company. Unusually, the majority of her forces were on foot or equipped with assault jetpacks, the longer form of their jetbikes less useful within the tight confines of mountain city. At the brief command passed to them, as a whole they reloaded, preparing to engage with the greater bulk of the enemy forces. A moment later, and with a leonine roar of combustive jetpacks, the Tears of Dawn surged into the fray.
The flames of a burning Land Raider licked at Captain Nenetl’s Terminator armor as she took a moment to reload behind its shattered carcass. Several bolts of energy from the rebels down the thoroughfare slammed into the blazing wreck with force enough to shake it slightly where it had died and the First Captain took pause at the fearsome power of the weapons they faced. Turning her attention back to the task at hand she quickly surveyed the status of the First Company before emerging from behind the wreckage of the Land Raider with her bolter barking at the positions down the road. Several of the closest of her Sisters joined her as she made her advance on the rebels’ positions, adding the fierce sounds of their bolters to the already deafening din of combat raging within Fios. In moments the rebels at the end of the road were nothing more than suggestions of organics plastered within the blasted out buildings they had used as their ambush positions.
Displeased at the loss of a Land Raider, Nenetl voxed for the column behind her to dismount the rest of the Fourth Company to push the assault on foot, leaving the Land Raiders behind the thick of the fighting. There were no dissenting responses to the order, and Nenetl smiled as the full weight of a second Fighting Company of her sisters was added to the already nigh unstoppable First Companies Terminators.
As her Terminators advanced with her, the First Captain received a packet of encrypted vox traffic from the fleet in low orbit above. With pride and a hint of rivalry in her voice she opened a vox connection to both companies close enough to receive from her suits caster, “Sisters, the Tears report destruction of the anti-air batteries further within Fios! The Knights descend from above as I speak, and our sisters in the Tears close on our position with every passing second, don’t let their glory outshine that of the Fifth Sun!” In response to these words her helmet was flooded with the animated responses of more than a thousand Astartes practically in unison, “For the Fifth Sun!” they bellowed as the Serpents cleaved their way further into the city.
A bolt of energy burst harmless on the pauldron of Nenetl’s armor as she relished in the war cries of her sisters and dispatched the rebel that had dared to fire upon her without even a stutter in her step. The report of her bolter and the ever present whine of Stormbird and Thunderhawk engines above were drowned out by the hiss of static as a line was opened between the Serpents First Captain and that of the Tears Fifth. Silence lasted for only a moment as the connection stabilized and Nenetl surveyed the newest obstacle her Serpents would face ahead of her.
A wide parade avenue stretched perpendicular to the Serpents’ direction of advance, some 600 meters across and littered with the wrecks of civilian and military vehicles alike. On the far side of the avenue hab blocks of considerable height stood vigil over the Serpents’ only approach across it, the rebels' energy weapons and a considerable detachment of far heavier weapons reaching out across the open area to bring death to the halted line of Serpent Terminators and Astartes.
“Captain Khafre, we have met heavy resistance,” within her helmet Nenetl spun a three dimensional holoprojection of the area, marking out the positions of the rebels on the far side of the avenue and those of her own Serpents, “I believe that your sisters would be most successful in taking the rebel positions across from our own. How you do it is yours to decide, you know yours better than I.” a round of something far heavier than a bolter round exploded against the
wall a few meters from Nenetl, showering her in debris and hot shards of rebar.
“Though whatever you decide, make it fast Captain.”
Bahati paused only to vox a code based affirmative to the First Captain of the Serpents, before her company set itself into action. The enemy position was heavily defended, but largely focused on the more overt force of the Serpents First Company bearing down on them. The Tears would exploit their corridor of focus.
Even over the cacophony of battle, the roar of a company’s worth of jetpacks surging into life carried over the war torn streets of the city as the Tears of Dawn leapt into the sky. Each became a mote of light and a centre of motive force as they lunged upwards, only to crash down in a shudder of weight and power.
The first to move were the Support Squads, their jump packs used to power them into firing positions among the taller buildings overlooking the enemy emplacement. Those in these squads equipped with bolters soon turned to clearing enemy resistance found among them, while the rest, shifted rotor-cannons into position, the heavier plates of their modified armour locking into place, before the weapons began to blaze away. The faces to the buildings they occupied erupted into a cascade of power as the rapid firing weapons bore down into the enemy emplacement, ripping apart human, rocrete and lighter armour at the surge of suppressive fire. The support squads were firing even as the majority of their sisters were still in the air, keeping the enemy from being able to turn their weapons upon this new threat even as the main descent began.
Bahati Khafre slew one of the prominent looking foes among the enemy position simply by landing upon him, the mortal’s body compacting in a spray of arterial gore as they came apart beneath the sudden application of her ceramite bulk. Before those around her first target could react, two more of them were bisected, the curved blade of her power-ankh passing through them with a sizzling flare of the power field. All around her and among the enemy, the assault squads of her company were crashing into the enemy. The retort of bolt pistols and angry roar of chainswords heralding the slaughter that commenced. The enemy here were heavily armed and armoured, but not close to enough to shrug off Astartes assault squads on initial impact. Perhaps given time they might be able to reorganise and fend them off, but the Tears were not striking alone, they simply needed to hold the enemy’s attention for long enough for the Serpents to catch up.
Thoughts of the wider tactical situation were momentarily pushed from Bahati’s mind as a surge of green energy wafted past her. Even without striking her, the cogitatal display of her helm registered dangerous heat exposure, and the bolt crashed into one of her sisters as she landed, turning even the Astartes armour liquid and annihilating her on first impact. Bahati’s eyes traced the arc of fire to one of the enemy’s heavy guns, having been turned swiftly to face the flanking assault of the Tears. Bahati snarled, before unleashing a warcry over the vox system, and leaping forwards, a cry that her whole company soon echoed.
“For Aurelia! For the Emperor!”
From her position across the avenue Nenetl watched the brutal opening of the Tear’s assault on the hab block with a sense of pride welling in her chest at the chance to share such moments with her sisters in the name of the Emperor and the Imperium. There was a sudden and expected lull in the volume of fires reaching out across the parade avenue and Nenetl had no need to vox orders for what came next.
The Serpents, battered by the entrenched positions but not yet broken, surged forth across the avenue. Bolters barked and distorted war cries resonated from the vox amplifiers on the suits of hundreds of Asartes as they covered the distance in mere moments. Their movement covered by the glow of plasma and detonation of heavy bolter rounds from Devastator squads, and aided by the confusion being sown into the enemy by the Tear’s assault, Nenetl and her companies were across the gap with only a handful of losses to show.
Nenetl grinned in satisfaction as a squad of Astartes from the Second Company made entry into the nearest hab-block and the interior lit up with bolter fire. Not wanting to miss out on the action herself, Nenetl and another of the First Company Terminators pushed hard for the nearest wall adjacent to what appeared to be an entrenched heavy weapons system that was still answering the Serpent’s advance with iridescent death.
The wall of the hab-block gave way easily to the powered forms of two Terminators as they simply ran through the minor obstacle. Debris still falling around her, Nenetl mag-locked her bolter to her thigh and shrugged the lightning claws from their rails in her gauntlets as if second nature. Her helmet display easily cut through the dark interior of the hab and outlined the enemies just meters from where she entered the room and the First Captain was quick to cover the short distance to them. Letting her lightning claws loose on those foolish enough to betray the Imperium, the Nenetl and the second of her Terminators left the heavy weapons team in ribbons and the weapon itself in a similar state.
The blades of her lightning claws sizzling as the fresh blood boiled upon them, Nenetl opened the vox between herself and Captain Khafre once more, “My Serpents take the hab interior and we continue our push onward for the city center.” she began as she calmly burst through a wall into another room and let her lightning claws loose on a second group of unsuspecting traitors, “My gratitude for the assist Captain.” She cut the vox as she pushed into a long hallway and began her advance on a barricade at the far end of the hall, iridescent energy beams reaching out to greet her as she unlocked her bolter from her thigh in answer.
Angels on HighThe dropship shuddered violently as it made its combat descent towards Fios. Catalina had been on drops before, far too many to count at this point, but even still she fought down the sinking feeling in her stomach as she sat reliant on another to get her to the battlefield below. She took solace in the fact that at the very least she was at the helm of Paramis, the Throne Mechanicum humming behind her as she pulled up a scrolling list of information on her retina. She felt the familiar sinking feeling in her stomach loosen as she flash read the information scrolling by, two of her Knight’s Paladin had already made it to ground and were almost immediately engaged with a small formation of enemy tanks, and she herself would be joining them in less than a minute if the data readout was correct.
The interior lights of the dropship’s bay changed from a cool amber to blood red as the disconnected and careless voice of a servitor began to count down to deployment. “Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve,” it rasped as Catalina ran one last check of all of Paramis’ systems even though she had done so a hundred times over up to this moment, “Nine, eig--” the servitors voice shifted suddenly to agonized screaming as the far wall of the dropship tore open in a hail of spalling and liquified armor. For a moment Catallina watched in awe as the tear in the ship ripped down into the decking and traveled across the bulkhead exposing a rift to what could be compared to something like hell below the dropship as beams of crisscrossing energy and explosions filled the small window into the battle taking place beneath her.
“Drop drop drop.” came the disconcertingly calm voice of the dropship’s pilot over Catalina’s vox link while she watched in morbid amazement as the tear in the hull yawned open and the bow of the dropship began to peel away from its aft section. Her eyes stuck on the unfolding demise of the dropship Catalina felt a sudden and overwhelming need to jump as Paramis made it’s desire known.
Catalina fell, the storied honor banners of a hundred battles burning and smouldering as the Scion of House Cadaval and her machine dropped the final fifty or so meters to the earth below the dropship. She landed hard enough to be thrown forward in her throne, the neural sockets connected to the ancient machine throbbing in pain as they pulled and strained with her sudden motion. Paramis groaned as the Paladin rose to its full height, the dropship crashing to the ground in two separate explosions of fire and metal behind the impressive piece of Imperial technology as it sounded its warhorn above the cacophony.
Catalina received a short data burst as the remainder of her Court touched down nearby, an unmistakable grin spreading across the Scion’s features as she picked out a tank platoon on auspex and acquired a target lock.
“Paramis, engaged.” she voxed to her cohort along with an encrypted data packet containing an updated axis of advance on House Cadaval’s main objectives.
“Huntsmaster, the dropship containing the Paramis is enflamed.” The voice broke Kvasi from his enforced meditation, the calming rest before the storm. He sat within his own Throne Mechanicus, the data stream of the battle rushing to his mind even as he pulled himself from the centering of his mind and body. Even through the filter of vox transmission, the voice tone was notably level. A priority alert from one of the Tech Priest adjutants of his own vessel. His mind drifted to his brief meeting with Catalina prior to the war council. That would be a real shame. Thoughts of both the tactical situation and the particularly flattering cut of her emerald gown with the same thought.
“Confirmed engagement?” He spoke back, rolling his form within the tight confines of his vast warsuit, the Questoris knight mirroring the motion, albeit in a less fluid flexing of its shoulder mounted pauldrons.
“Yes, Huntsmaster, two….reconfirm, three House Cadaval vox-codes transmitting. Enemy engagement confirmed, hostile positions moving to respond, cordone established.” The tech priest adjusted their report mid flow with only a minor delay to account for the adjusting stream of data.
“Very well, adjust landing vectors for skyshatter drop, transmit new orders to the Lance.”
“By your will, Hunstmaster.”
At the mechanical tone of confirmation, Kvasi allowed himself a grin. No doubt the tech priests would lecture him again about the unnecessary risk of his favoured method of attack, but they did not have the call of war in their ears, the ghosts of centuries of Huntsmasters clamoring at them through the arcane code of the Throne Mechanicus. One could only restrain them so much. When he spoke next, it was to each and every member of his lance about to deploy.
“Bring the sky down on them.”
“Aye, Huntsmaster.” The call returned to him at once, before with all affirmatives acknowledged, the doctrine was put into place. It was not simply his sister’s Legion which favoured wrath from the air. A cogitator chimed once, twice, thrice, before the floor itself gave away, opened to the ground below. With a surge of motion, Kvasi Khafre and his warsuit, Ikenga dropped into the air below.
Even through the Throne Mechanicus, air and noise ripped at Kvasi, the speeding form of his dropship already roaring past him, practically throwing the precious ancient knight-suit like a projectile at the enemy it banked low over. The full weight of the suit slammed into the top of one of the enemy vehicles, pulping metal and the humans within in an instant. The force slammed the knight to one knee, but suit and pilot rose with a warcry and blast of warhorn. Ikenga’s right arm was unique, the limb fashioned into a colossal ankh, the blade of nobility from Mithra and its moons, the vast sword slicing through another enemy before the warsuits left arm, the churning assault cannon, ripped apart the front face of a hab block from which he was taking insignificant small arms fire, a contemptuous gesture of wrath in the face of ants.
“My Lady, we request to join your hunt, the killing here seems plentiful.” His vox opened up to address Paramis as his knight suit identified the foremost of the allied knights nearby, and its noble pilot’s survival.
Catalina turned in her cockpit as she tracked a volley of tank shells racing over the battlefield toward her, the battlesuit around her turning in tune with its pilot. With a simple thought she reoriented her ion shield to meet the incoming rounds as easily as she breathed. The several of the tank shells missed altogether, but two crews seemed to find their aim as a round whizzed harmlessly off the ion shell and up into the sky above Paramis shortly followed by the second shell being redirected in a similar manner.
With a short burst from her battle cannon Catalina watched as the rounds found their marks and the platoon of tanks met their end. Her mind once more pulled away from the sight of her handiwork, Catalina focused on a series of hab-blocks nearly three kilometers away. Auspex readings streamed into her mind and wire overlays automatically placed themselves over the form of a tank and several mechanized vehicles flittering between the structures.
“Lord Khafre,” she responded as she let off a loose volley of shells at the habs, “There is no need to ask, prey is plentiful and the killing easy.” she laughed with the laughter of a hundred of her ancestors echoing in her mind as a vehicle burst into flames with the hits of her first volley.
Catalina transmitted a quick data burst to the Lord Khafre and pinged her Court to form for an urban assault through the hab-blocks ahead.
“With you, my Lady.” came a swift response from the first of her Court, Stella Invicta, quickly followed by the response of the pilot of the Absentia. Sifting through the battle data in the breadth of a second Catalina decided that the portion of her Lance committed to the assault was operating effectively and required little need for her own personal direction.
She grinned, Paramis blaring it’s warhorn as Absentia and Stella Invicta rushed past her on either side, their battle cannons firing as they did. Falling into a loping run at the center of her Court, Catalina processed the information streaming through the Throne at a dizzying rate while they neared the habs. The vehicles were shifting and disappearing behind the buildings, and several were futally holding their ground and beginning to fire back. But the strangest of all was the hab-blocks, a handful of which were showing heat signatures too hot to be empty. “Care be taken ahead, I will not lose a Knight here to overzealousness,” she felt the disappointment of the minds of the pilots before her washing over her own thoughts, their desire for destruction and victory failing to overwhelm the Scion’s own desires, “but bring the Emerald Priestess her hearts!” she yielded to the Throne.
The Mithran Knights continued to strike like hammerblows into the stone and chrome of the city, leaping from their descent craft in terrifying displays of force and agility to bring their wrath to the enemy. Ikenga had been the first Mithran Questoris to land among the foe, but soon the whole Lance was in motion, forming up behind Paramis and its Court as they pushed forwards to their collective objective. The warsuits of the Mithran Questoris movies with the fluid gait of hunters and predators both, holding behind the wedge of their knightly allies as they closed the distance. As the Paramis detected the anomalous heat signatures, Ikenga’s own suite of sensors picked up the same impending threat, chiming in the mind of its pilots. Checking the advance of the knights wasn’t an option, for both reasons of pride and expedience.
“Bondsmen, preysight, targets adjacent. Good hunting.” The mind impulse Kvasi pushed into the lesser suits of his bonded armiger retainers flooded between Ikenga and the smaller questoris walkers. The tactical information and order preceded his words by microseconds, the latter a sign of the social bond the Huntsmaster kept with his retainers, the former the necessity of war. Even more so than the Knights honorbound to him, the Armigers were unable to disobey, the weaker machine spirits within their suits entirely overcome by the will of Ikenga and it’s pilot. The fact each would willingly follow the Huntsmaster into the fires of any conflict was entirely incidental.
“Acknowledged, Huntsmaster.” The voice of Bondsmen Elyssa nevertheless, confirmed the acceptance of the order, before the pair of Helverin Warsuits veered off. Even more agile than their Questoris masters, the Armiger suits spun on a dime to rush down a narrow side street, the crackle of their autocannons shredding the present enemy attempting to avoid the presence of the heavier knights. Once in position, the armiger’s lunged upwards into the air, with a surge of hydraulic pistons, the twenty foot tall warmachines crashed through the side of the hablock, rockrete turning to powder beneath the sudden force. Even as the building shook, the crack of their autocannons resumed as the warsuits plowed forwards. Designed to withstand the full extent of natural disaster, the hablocks swayed but did not break from the damage caused and the presence of the Armiger’s as they moved through them, hunting down the source of the potential threat.
As the second Armiger lunged from one hablock to the next, it was momentarily lit up by a surge of green energy, the powerful blast enough to stall its forward motion, rip through it’s shielding and scour the metal beneath. With a heavy clatter, the wounded suit crashed back down to the streets below. A costly loss, even if it would not prove fatal, but in turning the concealed heavy weaponry on the bounding armiger, the enemy had exposed their ambush to the remaining armiger as well as the Knights themselves from afar.
Bondsmen Elyssa’s suit was more fortunate, the agile warrior and warsuit able to sidestep the secondary shot, before opening up with both autocannons into the enemy hidden implacement. Rebels scattered to dive into suitable cover or bring more of the larger, Knight-Killer, weapons around to bear on the armiger. It was not a firefight the lone armiger would win, but that was not the aim, instead, Elyssa looked to hold their attention so the Knight lances might survive unscathed.
Pushing their way into the hab-block, the Knights of Cadaval unleashed fire and fury into the seemingly unordered retreat of the rebels. Tanks died, throwing their turrets into nearby buildings as their munitions cooked off in devastating explosions. Armored personnel carriers erupted in flame as fire from the Knights swept over them, their helpless passengers and crew stumbling from their carcasses engulfed in flames.
Catalina allowed Paramis a moment of satisfaction as she crushed an anti-armor weapon beneath her feet, her ancestors content with the simple brutality of the act she felt their minds pulling back from her own.
Several buildings over, Margrave Sebastián Torres of the Absentia was prosecuting his own personal war. Auspex read the locations of the heat signatures just forward his position, and if his datalink read correctly, so too were the positions of two of the Mithran Armigers, one still functioning and within the building itself. He blink stored the breadth of the tactical data to his cogitators for review once combat had ceased and felt his Machine move as if anticipating what he was to do next.
With the practiced precision of decades of experience hooked into a Throne, Absentia’s massive chainsword swept through the wall of the hab-block, turning rockrete, steel, rebels, and weapons to dust and gore as it swept through the length of the building passing narrowly out of range of the Mithran bondsmen within. With a thought he captured the name of the Armiger and pilot as he continued past the building and relayed a closed impulse to continue their assault to the surviving war machine.
Around Absentia the city was alight with the flaming hulks of armor and heavy weapons. A beam of some sort reached out to touch the Knight but deflected off of the crackling energy shield as an answering volley of rounds met the weapon with devastating effect. “Absentia reports victory, the rebels are crushed.”
“Invicta reports the same, the traitors are shattered. Bondsmen harass their withdrawal but are holding for your commands my Lady.”
Catalina felt the elation of victory flowing through her Throne but did not let it cloud her mind, there was still fighting to be done here. Of that she had no doubt.
“Consolidate and continue the assault.” she quickly answered with a databurst to her Court. She opened a private vox and directed her attention to the Lord Khafre, “Unless you have other plans, you are free to remain in step with the Knights of Cadaval.” she offered as her augors picked up further targets consolidating within the city ahead of her.
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