The Ravenous Pride of Greed [FT RP | IC -Closed | Attn Hue.]

[Khandosia]

OOC: This thread is for a war rp between Huerdae and myself, only. Do not post in it unless you are I or Huerdae. Any questions may be directed to either of us via TG or on Discord.

Octarian Sector, Delta Quadrant | M42.29.201


Glory. Wealth. Power.


It was those three words that drew the multitude from beyond the confines of their homes within the Khand Sector. Spurred onward by the promise of new lives, on new and exciting planets, they came. Many of the entrepreneurial rogue traders made good on the powers vested in them by their holy warrants. Some of the oldest trader houses had been lobbying the Imperial governor's administratum offices from the first week, when news had finally arrived that the vicious warp storms that had once cut the Khand Sector off from the greater Imperium had dissipated.

But a new galaxy? That had been shocking. There had been more than a few riots in the lower hives across the sector; on three separate worlds there had been outright anarchy, one of which involved the assassination of an entire planetary commander's family via a suicide bomber who'd somehow managed to steal and then use a Guard-issue demolition charge. The Imperial Navy had been forced to execute an orbital bombardment, excising the rebellious hive city in question from the planet's surface.

Once the shock had worn away, smoothed over by Administratum propagandists and many sermons from the pulpits of the Ministorum, far older human emotions had come to the fore. Greed and ambition are a potent mix, and some could plausibly accuse most rogue traders to have nothing else running through their veins. So it was with Heironimo Gerard Octarius van Klieff XVIII, the aging master of the aristocratic House Van Klieff. Using his power and influence, in concert with his family's writ of trade, he was able to claim an entire swathe of space beyond the Protectorate; all within the second year of being in the new galaxy.

Naming the area of space after his grandfather and namesake, Octarius van Klieff XI, the Octarian Sector was formally amalgamated and sanctified by the Imperial Sector Governor, Lord Markanian, and given to House Van Klieff to rule as a fief under the auspices of the Khandosian Protectorate. Using the resources of his own house and with support from the various branches of the Imperial government, the area was taken.

Eight years passed. Hundreds of settler fleets had arrived and passed throughout. Alliances were formed with the Adeptus Mechanicus, allowing them worlds to settle and rights to resource collection across the expanse -- be it dead systems or no. The Imperial Guard were given special rights to various worlds, staging grounds that could be used for future expansion - and a good source of shipping revenue for House Van Klieff in keeping them supplied from the various forge and agri worlds. Even the Adeptus Ministorum were bequeathed a system within the new domain, assurances given that by doing so the soul of the old scoundrel would assuredly be given a seat at the God-Emperor's side after death.

Stretching the boundaries of the Octarian Sector numerous trader fleets, subject to the authority of House Van Klieff, and Mechanicum Explorator Fleets, which followed the orders of no one except the newly entitled Fabricator General Logastus, searched the darkness beyond. Though it had chaffed the Old Man, at first, the benefits of exclusive manufacturing and development contracts with the Mechanicus outweighed the fact that they could thumb their noses at him otherwise. His last breath was always a moment away, anyway. The Old Man being upset about the Mechanicus was one less thing to be upset with by his son and heir.



Antronov - Antronov System | Border World | Xentarch Sub-Sector


Jacob Kaspre wiped the sweat off his brow with an oil-stained hand. The heat of the local star was significant enough, causing the world of Antronov to be rather temperate, but the thermal generator he stood in front of was only helping in that regard. Even with the ceramite-lined protection mask and thermo-suit that had been given to him by the Enginseer-Senioris, the heat still managed to feel like the banked flames of a roaring promethium fire. Sighing, he put his mask back into position and hefted the oversized wrench back up. With a grunt of effort he managed to maglock it back onto the outcropping tail of a metal pin the same size as himself.

"Very good, Worker Kaspre 110-X-1," blurted the mechanized voice of Enginseer-Senioris Herod. "Now tighten the pin by applying three thousand nine hundred and forty-three units of force."

"You realize that I don't know how to modulate my strength to that level of precision?" grunted Jacob, wishing again he could wipe more sweat away.

The Mechanicus enginseer blurted something that Jacob took as meaning an outburst of laughter -- though the very idea of any member of the Adeptus Mechanicus having a sense of humor seemed...alien at best.

"Apologies, Worker Kaspre 110-X-1. I sometimes forget the inefficiencies of the flesh and the uninitiated. I believe the phrase then is: turn the pin hard, but not too hard."

Another cacophonous blurt of what sounded like steal wool being rubbed against a chalk board, such as Jacob once used when taking lessons in the sub-hive of his old homeworld. He ever so gently applied his muscular strength, sensing the thrum through the metal as the generator's heart roared. Just as he thought that he might be straining it too much, his back beginning to protest with needle-like prickles of pain, he felt a click. The series of specially machined indentations within the pin had met their partnered cog-teeth and locked into place.

Jacob stepped back, relieved. The generator hummed and he could tell by the sound that it was once more working at peak efficiency.

"Very good," repeated Herod. The enginseer's red robes that hid the augmented body that lay beneath swayed in the wind as he stepped down from an attached gantry. Jacob was a bit cross that the enginseer seemed to be unaffected by the heat. Two green lenses mounted on a brass faceplate whirled in their sockets as Herod did the one remaining basic human thing that Jacob thought he had remaining.

He nodded.

"That was the last generator in this hab-block that needed re-calibration," said Jacob.

He turned to look down across the ever growing city-scape before him. The city of Saratov was growing, the beginnings of a proto-hive city. A central hive tower had been created out of a dozen great metal columns, driven into the earth and then built upon as a foundation. There were numerous districts that had grown out in a radial fashion, guided by the planetary commander's city planners and the advice of the Mechanicum adepts that desired to take advantage of the thermal vents that were scattered across the planet's surface.

The new thermal generators were somewhat finicky however, needing constant minding. This didn't bother Jacob however, as it meant that he could put his minor machine skills to use. It was those same machine skills that had enabled him to purchase a ticket on a passenger liner out to the Octarian Sector three years ago; those same skills that were now supporting his new family.

I wonder if Natasha managed to get a better billet for the cafeteria tonight, Jacob thought.

"You are correct, Worker Kaspre 110-X-1. That was the last one. Our work is done for the day. You are dismissed. Please return to Mechanicum Office Tertius tomorrow at zero seven hundred hours. Another series of tasks will be filed and need addressing then."

"As you say, sir," replied Jacob, putting a knuckle to his forelock in salute. He left without further ado. The one good thing about living on Antronov is that the local ruler had made clear that any settlers were to be treated fairly - with only ten hour work days mandated.

It took Jacob a little under an hour to make his way back to his home hab-block. He'd passed the space port, which barely deserved the name as it lacked the ability to handle anything other than simple transport barques. Beside that and opposite his own home was the newly minted Agrexis Manufactoria, where his wife worked as a construction adept of the Divisio Fabricator. From what his wife had mentioned at last night's dinner, the senior adepts were about to put things into full production. Las weapon power-charge packs, bolt weapon parts, vehicular track parts, and even a full wing devoted to domestic, civilian goods. Due to her position Natasha had been promised a reduced rate for purchasing products directly from the manufactoria.

Jacob entered his hab-unit and immediately shucked his work clothes. He felt the layer of grim and dried sweat on his body like an itchy second skin. Straight to the fresher, he pulled the lever and enjoyed a ten minute shower of hot water. He could smell the slightly sulphurous tang of the water, the local hot springs the primary source for the hab units. It was sheer luxury as far as Jacob was concerned. Natasha still didn't believe him when he told her stories from his old hive, where water had been rationed to only one-hundred and eighty seconds of low-pressure, lukewarm showers that stank of multiple purification chemicals. If for nothing else, this shower alone made Antronov worth all the effort of getting there.

He stepped out and dried off with a rough cloth towel; another luxury. "Natasha!" he called out. "Are you home? We need to get down to the cafeteria soon. We don't want McDonald and Quark beating us in line again." Jacob stepped through what was their small living room, three by six feet of luxurious space, and into their bedroom. Natasha was nowhere to be seen. He frowned and put on a pair of nondescript clothes, made from a thick fabric that was sturdy and somewhat itchy. The clothing was something Jacob had insisted on buying, keen on having warm clothes in case the hab-block lost central heating during winter. Natasha had naturally laughed at him, never herself having to have faced such a hardship.

"Natasha?"

No response was forthcoming.

Jacob stepped back into the living room and gazed out the window of the hab-unit. From there he could look out across the promenade where numerous other workers that lived in the hab-block were relaxing on benches or enjoying various sport games. The setting sun was just falling beyond the central spire. It was then that Jacob noticed something was wrong.

The hive defense cannon network, nestled at the base of the hive, was moving. He watched as the overly large barrels of the turreted macro-cannon turned with inexorable might, lifting to the sky above. They let loose a boom that shattered windows nearest to them, white-yellow light flaring as supersonic shells were launched. The floor beneath Jacob shuddered. Numerous anti-aircraft batteries, some of which their foundation towers Jacob had helped construct, burst to life; stitching a staccato pattern of death across the sky.

Explosions began to rain down upon the city. Strange craft that looked nothing like Imperial designs could be glimpsed in the gloom.

One such explosion knocked Jacob onto his floor and out of his distracted funk.

Natasha. I need to find Natasha.

Klaxons and alarms belatedly blared to life. A mechanical voice came across the city-wide vox network, voxphones from street corners squealing to life.

"Attention! Attention! An enemy attack is in progress. All civilians and hive workers are to evacuate to their designated evacuation zones. Secondary and Tertiary PDF reservists are to report to their command precincts, immediately. Failure to comply will result in severe penalties. Attention! Attention! An enemy..."

Numerous Skitarii Vanguard, bare-augmented troopers bearing red robes beneath silvered, ceramite breastplates and armed with rad-carbines were running about. Flak-armored and less organized Planetary Defense Force soldiers were also beginning to appear.

The warning blared on. Jacob ignored it and the crowd of soldiers, pressing against the tide of fleeing civilians.

Natasha. I need to find Natasha.

[Huerdae]

Suidochi Synthetics Frontier Office, Iel'Hassan
Tan'Naus Frontier Sector, Huerdaen Domain

Lord Saruhi Kaito was doing his best to be a fly on the wall while Lady Nor'Tallun and Executive Harold Karson continued to yell. Their disagreement was of little interest to him, who would have to carry out the plan anyway, so he spent the time studying the information they had in regards to the target location, known by the locals as Antronov. The largest of the cities there was in the middle of a massive construction project, and was likely to be in a situation where it would be out of reach within the year. Even as it was, massive batteries were in place to defend against an assault, and had been the reason they had held off as long as they did.

Still, the moment was there. There was a massive manufacturing facility exposed on the surface, and survey information showed that if the construction project were to continue, it would be just outside the most densely defended, and heavily armored, sections of the spire that was being constructed around pillars that were large enough to impale a starship. It was expanding in such a way that he could only imagine that the target area could be under another layer of armor and buildings as soon as tomorrow, or perhaps as late as ten months from now. Maybe not even then. It made it important for them to strike now, while the manufacturing site was both functional, and exposed.

He nodded to himself, leaning over the small, projected map to get a better look from above, only to realize that both Nor and Karson were looking at him like he was crazy. It was then that he realized he had been talking to himself, going through the options of the assault. Finally, Nor just turned to Karson, an eyebrow raised.

"Well, is he right? DO you have Icarus dropships available?"

Karson's hackles raised immediately, but he nodded, sneering at Kaito "Yes. But they're not for you."

Kaito shrugged, smiling. "Well, we need them. These areas" - he directed their attention to specific zones on the map - "are AA nests. There'll be significant presence there."

Karson just waved it away. "Use the cruiser to smash it, what do I care?"

It was Nor that responded, scolding him happily. "Because then your precious target is in the blast zone, Harold. You do want us to bring something back, right? Or do you like scraps?"

The two returned to bickering for a short time, while he continued to examine the map. Finally, he clapped his hands together, rubbing them fitfully as if ready for a fresh work day. "Alright, we'll do it."

The two returned to looking at the ex-Shield commander like he was an idiot.

"The cruiser has the capability to withstand hits from those GTO batteries for a short time. I expect half an hour before we withstand critical damage. We can't perform an orbital strike on them for fear of taking out the supporting infrastructure, so that area is off limits. We merely need to endure it. That's what that thing is designed for anyway."

Karson's face was good and red at that, as the old Deathwing-Class cruiser was his pride and joy, and he preferred to use it in orbit of Iel'Hassan to compensate for his shortcomings, but Kaito continued, holding up his hand to avoid them interrupting him before he was done.

"We also need all of the Icarus. A Roc is tough, but they've got a lot of things in areas we can't counter without a ground assault. There are areas we can hit, and those will prove a worthwhile distraction, but to really get what we want we need people on the ground without being easily tracked, and that means the Telrosian bad-bird. Nothing stops a fucking Icarus on approach."

Karson was scowling, but it was Nor'Tallun who spoke up. "But the Icarus can't lift the gear we're looking for. It lacks the cargo room. You're talking about this like it's a search and destroy, but we're here to grab."

Kaito nodded, and pushed his finger through the projection, causing it to shake and shimmer in an attempt to compensate for the disruption. "That's why we land Rocs on its head. The Icarus will deploy strike teams, to neutralize the threat of the defensive positions from the ground. Heavy weapons, charges, quick strike teams. Go in heavy, spike the guns and get out. The Rocs are bringing down grab teams. Each sector of this structure seems to have specific, purpose-built objectives. We want to grab anything of value from any of them. Preferably finished product, blueprints, anything that gives us an idea of how they build their tech. It is radically different from ours, but they make use of extreme amounts of heavy augmentation. I also want a few augmented bodies of various configurations. They could be very useful in resolving some of our own problems."

Both of them nodded slowly, and Karson seemed generally displeased, though Nor nodded as she summarized. "So we start it off with a strike using the Icarus to get troops on the ground, take out the nearby defenses, and bring down the heavies in the gap we just cut in their lines. Those are going to go in, obtain the target tech, and withdraw before they can make a unified response."

Nor looked concerned, and looked across the map at Kaito. "And what about air power? These guys aren't without fighter wings. What are we going to do about that?"

Karson provided that answer, surprisingly. "Just bring along the Scylla. They've been rotting in dock ever since we bought them. Nobody wants to use them, so we can just eject when it's done and have everyone board the Rocs for the return trip. Let the damn things crash, they're wasting space I could be using for something useful."

Both Nor and Kaito stared for a moment at Karson, who met their looks with a glare, before Kaito finally nodded. The Executive crossed his arms firmly, adding one final point. "But I'm coming along with this one."

That shocked both of them, and Kaito didn't have time to protest when Nor nodded, accepting with a voice pitched so high out of excitement he was suddenly very worried about her. "Alright. You can come with me, we'll go down as part of the grab teams. Kaito, you run the operation from on board the cruiser."

Karson bristled at the thought, but as his terms were being met, he simply nodded. With all in agreement, the three of them broke up, with absolutely none of them particularly happy with the end outcome, but Nor grinning like a Shield private who was ordered to garrison an Xiscapian whorehouse.

Finally, she actually skipped, and jammed an elbow into Kaito's ribs, letting him in on the joke. "I told him years ago I'd take him along one day, on one of these, when we were on our honeymoon. He didn't believe me, thought I was gonna 'calm down' like our wife. Man, is he gonna hate this."

Kaito stopped, holding his side as he stared at Nor in confusion. "Wait, you volunteered to babysit him just to aggravate him?"

She grinned, nodding again. "Oh yeah. Isn't that what marriage is for? I'm gonna make him carry everything. He'll hate the fuck out of it and then I get angry sex that night and it'll be wonderful."

Kaito slammed his palm into his forehead so hard he was sure they could hear the impact several kilometers away. This was the exact reason not to have a wife. Or two, as was Karson's case.

I.A.C.S. "Ravenous Pride", Geo-Synchronous Orbit over Antronov, Antronov System
Xentarch Sub-Sector, Khandosian Protectorate

Things had gotten even more out of hand since the briefing. Karson was still going along with the grab teams, but upon hearing of the agreement, the other wife had protested. Loudly. He had been forced to endure a three-hour argument in his office between the two parties until he had agreed to let Sochi go along as well. She was actually less of a danger than Karson, becasue she was a Slayer and had spent time in the Force, but it still felt strange to have an entire unstable love triangle in charge of his grab unit. That was normally his job, while he let Nor run the show from above. He could only imagine it would be a massive clusterfuck.

Both Harold and Sochi Karson had been given the honorary title of Landsknecht for this mission, clearly putting Nor over top of them by three ranks, but he still worried about how things would go on the ground. The three were notorious for a few things. Their endless arguments, and for being late for meetings due to 'family issues', which everyone had long ago learned was really the only reason the three were still together. Nor and Harold worked to provide for Sochi, who cared for the two's kids, and who earned her pay with them feeding her massive...appettite. If anyone was really in charge of the three, it was probably her.

Still, he was relieved to find that as units were checking in, it was Nor who provided confirmation that the grab teams were ready, sitting calmly in their Rocs with way more of the heavy birds than he would normally use, due to the fact that they had a lot more crew to pick up and still expected to carry a full load of cargo.

Still, it was all more or less according to plan, and he got the chance to try everything out. He had hired a group from the Childer of Ragnarok to perform the Icarus assault, and the veterans had been almost giddy to take the birds into battle, promising the absolute destruction of the target locations. They were made up of units from pretty much every war in recent memory, including Viprans, Huerdaen, Telrosians, Setulans, Exiles, Xiscapians, and groups he hadn't even heard of. Somehow they all managed to function as a team.

Still, he didn't care if he had to leave them behind. They were, in the end, mercenaries. They had been given strict instructions as to their duties, and if they failed to report for retrieval, they had no information to share. It was a very reasonable setup, as far as Suidochi was concerned. Expendable and effective. The high price tag didn't matter when the risk was so low. They weren't SS assets, so even if every one died, the price was the same. Simple, and clean. Just like a good aug.

In an instant, he had to go from reflective to active, as the ship Gated into position over top of the planet, burning thrusters to obtain a geo-synchronous orbit over the massive city. It was still smaller than most of this nation's cities, but even so, he could already see the small blot on the planet's surface from space, set to grow to a hundred times its current size within the next five years. If nothing else, he could be sure that these people were efficient. Everything about their expansion was planned.

The ship shuddered as the guns along the belly of the craft opened fire on isolated military points away from the hive structures, though there were relatively few. It was the Icarus that had his attention, as they shot down through the atmosphere, carrying their Scylla cargo. The Roc's slow speed had made deploying the atmospheric craft dangerous, so instead they had to attach them to the Icarus dropships, and armor the front of the small craft against atmospheric entry. It left the pilots in small tombs until the Icarus pilots released them, a fate he did not particularly envy.

But they had a simple purpose, one which fit his needs perfectly, and every single one was able to deploy without issues once they had entered the atmosphere. It was then that his ship was first rocked by enemy fire, and he was nearly thrown from his chair by the impact. Holding on, he growled out his orders. "Activate the Aegis barriers. Cease fire on the planet. We've done all we can for them. The strike teams are on their own."

He could feel the power dip as lights dimmed during the raising of the Aegis barriers, and he waited for them to recover before he keyed in contact to the grab teams. "Lady Nor, we've raised the Aegis barriers. Strike teams are beginning their approach now. Begin your descent in three minutes."

The affirmative that came back was almost lost as nother volley slammed into the cruiser, but the impact felt almost pathetic compared to the first one, as the hardened Aegis barriers took the brunt of the impact, splashing it all across nearby orbit without significant damage. Quietly, he thanked the KKI engineers who had managed to come up with the damn things, while cursing them for making them so damn expensive he couldn't put them on every non-combat ship in the fleet.

Antronov Defensive Ring, Antronov System
Xentarch Sub-Sector, Khandosian Protectorate

Si'Kossi hated the fact that Ozrilli Sayashav, their illustrous platoon leader, had taken a liking to calling him 'Sicko'. Of course it was Lai'Kossi's fault, having called him Siko where others could hear, but he still hated the giant atoran woman for it. Sure, she had to be one of the best platoon commanders in the Childer, but could she at least show a little respect for him?

Pounding his knuckles on his armor, he called up the attention of his squad, which amounted to a ragtag assortment of some of the craziest, most unbalanced individuals who had ever had the privilege to excel on the battlefield. Probably the most professional of his group were himself and his sister, Lai'Kossi, Raul Ellzana, their demolitionist from the Solarian Union, and Alavvi Keyanaman, an Atoran ex-mob hitwoman who he felt safe assuming he had under his command only because Ozrilli didn't trust her anywhere within striking distance. Not to say that the second fireteam of his squad was any less skilled. They were simply more...interesting about how they went about things.

"Sicko! We drop in ten seconds!"

He rose, stepping onto the pad, and his entire squad did the same, with some of the larger species barely fitting. Still, it was a practiced routine. They had been given a little more than 72 hours to prepare for this assault. And in that time, they had made 73 practice drops. Each and every time, they had managed to complete their objectives, though it was with varying levels of success at the start. They had only a vague idea of enemy troop concentrations, and their employer was rather vague on that point. Their best advantage, with that in mind, was simply luck. Get to the rather archaic-looking towers that held the anti-air nests, and shut them down in whatever way they could. So a second before drop, nobody was particularly surprised by the sudden field that passed over them, causing tingling all across their skin within the shaking hold of the Icarus dropship.

And then, suddenly, his stomach dropped out and he was dumped unceremoniously onto a blasted segment of curtain wall, some 500 meters from the target. Dust and smoke filled the air all around him as he immediately dove to the side, finding something solid to put his back against as his squad did the same. Gunfire rattled all around him as the heavy chatter of the nearby flak nest barely even slowed, trying to track the all-too-fast Icarus dropship.

The rocket strike that had preceeded their drop had cleared enough room to put them down as a squad, but the settling smoke could conceal anything from a single squad to a whole company of enemy soldiers, depending on how quickly they responded to the attack. With that in mind, he had no plan to let it clear. Checking squad beacons on his HUD, he was able to quickly confirm that the squad was ready to move.

Putting his feet under him, he ran along the side of the fortified curtain wall that seemed so out of place in an advanced civilization, happy to see that the entire squad was moving with him. Baen Kronach, or 'Bane' as he liked to claim as his callsign, even though it was pronounced identically, had his fireteam moving up covering the rear. On the other side of the wall, close to 20 meters away over open ground, Ozrilli and her team were doing the same on the other side of the wall. The high winds at the top of the fortified megastructure were quickly clearing their cover, so he signalled the squad to double-time it toward the guard-house that sat atop the wall, almost 50 meters away. They hadn't gone even half that distance before Alavvi's hand shot up in a fist, and the entire squad stopped, slamming back into cover. He couldn't see a thing through the smoke and dust still, but he had long ago learned not to doubt the woman.

Once they had all come to a stop, he could hear the footsteps approaching, likely dozens of local troopers sent as reinforcements to the wall to replace whatever unit had suffered from the Icarus strike. Their voices were strange, and tinged with fear, surprise, and determination as they ran toward whetever objective point they were given. He had a matter of seconds before they would come across his unit. Staying in his kneeling posture, he spoke to Baen quickly.

"Bane, cut off their advance. Spread out in their path and eliminate the forward group. Have Drengr find and eliminate any officers."

With a mere thought, he cut back to his fireteam. "Alavvi, hit the rear of their group with me in support. Lai, target the central group with the other two. Bane's team is in front, so focus toward the rear as they move. Go."

In an instant, the team spread out, with the big Atoran at the lead of his unit taking cover against a number of construction crates that had been left out, and him and his squad fanned out behind. Across their path was Bane's team, waiting excitedly for the chance to strike. The enemy unit kept running on by, unaware of their presence until far, far too late.

"Drengr"

Their enemies didn't even notice the soft whine as the rifle prepared the shot, but they absolutely noticed as the crack seemed to shake the wall itself, and the human near the center of the unit bearing a sword was knocked over backward, his head seperating from his body as the coilgun tore through his upper chest, blasting past the weak energy shield protecting him. Blood sprayed over the men who were immediately nearby, and the whole unit slowed slightly in confusion.

Lai'Kossi stepped foward, the sudden movement drawing all their low-powered weapons to her, as the laser beams and small-caliber weapon pattered against the outer armor of the Watchman. One man had time to scream before flames engulfed the center of the unit from the exosuit's armored left arm, and dozens of lightly armed and armored humans ran for cover, with a terrified cry of "Enemy dreadnought!"

His own Maedar rocked in his hands as he fired round after round at those who headed toward the rear, watching the rounds tear through the light armor of the unfortunate targets as they jerked and fell, screaming, to the wall.

A short way ahead, he saw Alavvi begin her attack, her rifle barely even moving as she put a half dozen shots into trio of guardsmen in quick succession, leaving two dead and one on the ground screaming. A pair of guardsmen were setting up a crew-operated weapon on a tripod nearby, and she sprinted from cover without prompting. Before the two men knew what had hit them, she was among them.

Suddenly assaulted from the side, they never had a chance to get the big weapon lined up on her before she was in reach, slamming one man's head down into the weapon feed and sending ammo spilling out of place as the other man drew a bayonet against her. The man's fumbling jab with the short blade was easily evaded, and she caught his thrusting arm with hers, wrenching it around his back before pushing him forward, away from the gun. She didn't even glance his way as she smoothly drew her sidearm and settled the matter with her well-practiced two in the chest, one in the head. In an instant she had done the same to the one still screaming from her earlier attack, as if it were nothing more than swatting a fly. Calmly reloading, she settled herself behind the gun, emptying what remained of the belt into another group of fleeing PDF soldiers before she flashed him a smile and casually headed back to the wall for cover.

With that completed, he turned his attention to the center, where Lai'Kossi's flames and massive autocannon rounds had turned the area into a bloodbath. It seemed almost pointless to have Raul providing additional fire with his carbine, calmly picking off anyone who seemed like they were getting out of her immediate killzone, but it was always that way. The man liked things done clean, and he wasn't about to miss a good fight. When he finally stopped and reloaded, Si'Kossi knew that the center was already finished. The fellow rarely used more than a few rounds for a target, so he likely had only used that single magazine.

The front of the enemy group was only revealed to him when most of the rest of he dust had blown away, with almost thirty bodies arranged in front of the five-man fireteam. Bane stood in the center, holding the modified hellfire SMG in one hand, belt-loaded from a pack on his back as his other clutched the signature Blood Corps hatchet. The expression on his face showed how disappointed he was that there was nobody left to use the hissing weapon on, but the two mangled bodies at his feet and multiple nearby with still-burning impact wounds told that he had already done his fair share.

To one side, Hong Bao was calmly inspecting the enemy's rifles, looking for something interesting to take apart and learn from. Of course, he had already dropped a cigar in between his lips, sucking on it contentedly as he looked for a weapon that had been modified so that he could do even better. Not that he really needed it. His own weapon was a small arsenal of minor modifications to make it just a little bit better than its competitors, and the bodies left in front of his position where they found no cover told that it was, if nothing else, effective.

Kokoshikki went running up to Bane, her large Atoran physique setting her apart from most of his squad, as she clutched the Akki in one hand as if it were merely a very large pistol, while in the other she she was trying to drape some manner of cloak around her shoulders, bearing the aquila of the defenders. The man who it had once belonged to lay in a heap on the ground, about the only kill near her that hadn't suffered from some manner of high explosive death. Instead, she had merely beaten his brains out with her bare fists, by the looks of it, to avoid doing physical damage to the cloak. For some reason, she didn't mind a bit of blood on it. Bane was annoyed to find that he had not, after all, gotten a trophy to match.

Behind them, Drengr took up the rear, rifle calmly leaning against his shoulder as he jogged to catch up, taking the distance in long, easy strides. The man's sharp features seemed even less concerned by the conflict than the rest, as if he were simply out enjoying the fine evening air. The man had long ago stopped carrying his sidearm, instead prefering to bait his enemy into melee range where the wicked sword on his hip could dismember even the toughest foe.

A quick look around told him the battle was finished, and as the group was heading back to the wall, he heard the grating, thankless voice of Ozrilli in his ear.

"Sicko, stop playing around! You're almost fifty meters behind us! We're gonna clear the gaurd house, then we move on the guns together."

Groaning, he gestured his team forward, aware of the fact that what Ozrilli had brushed off as a waste of time had taken less than thirty seconds, in what appeared to have been a complete victory. The enemy had only fired back in panic, with the only scored hit being on Kokoshikki, who seemingly didn't notice the minor char against her chestplate as she strapped the cape over her shoulder, letting it fly in the wind as she ran.

By contrast, the assault on the guard house was textbook. Ozri's second fireteam, led by the Solarian man, Grant, was crouched at the firing ports. At some unseen signal, the team dumped grenades into the structure, both disabling flashbangs and deadly assault grenades. as soon as the blasts tore their way out of the gaps, Tara, another Solarian, was through the door, swinging her short-barreled carbine to one side and popping off a series of shots with barely a glance. Another fell almost immediately, as she hurried to the next door, putting her gun against the doorframe at head height. The other two, the big blue Jotun giant form of Agronak took up a position on the opposing side, while Ozrilli herself and Eyvirri, another Atoran giant, were on either side of the initial entrance.

Grant's team, however, had taken up positions at all the windows, with both the support gunners in his team set up pointing at the door from the far side. It didn't take long for the brave fools to throw the door open, ready to toss in grenades and counter-assault with lasgun and bayonet. What the met was simple death.

The door hadn't even fully opened with Kelhhun, the draconic gunner, opened up with his weapon, cutting down the man who had stepped out to roll the grenades forward, and leaving them on the far side of the door. Unperturped, Agronak kicked one of the rolling grenades back into the room, leaning back against the doorframe just as fire from the plasma grenade engulfed the far side, spitting out between him and Tara. As the fire cleared, the two surged forward, out of sight, and the second fireteam hopped forward as a group, sliding through windows and taking up new positions, with Cutler going prone with his favored Aumanii SAW. They remained a moment, and then the whole team moved forward again, neatly finishing securing the strucute as their support team set up again on overlooking the far side of the building, out onto the top of the curtain wall.

His own team advanced along either side of the wall-top structure, coming together quickly as they reviewed the targets before them, with one fireteam on either side of the building. He didn't need to wait long for orders to come in. "Aircraft inbound. A scylla with cannons is going to start it up. Approsimately a whole company of tangos ahead of us, as well as a heavier unit. Some sort of augmented troops. Fire discipline, we don't have time to waste here. Only a few minutes before this nest starts in on the bricks."

Overhead, the Scylla fighters fought their way through the fire, trying to overcome the local air suppport that was starting to rise to the challenge. However, whatever brave individual had agreed to strafe so close to the Hydra nest had clearly overplayed their hand. Even before they began their run, the four gun positions were sighted in, filling the air with flak and rounds, tearing the light fighter out of the air well before it could line up the shots.

Autocannon rounds slammed into the wall well below their target, but the burning, screaming fighter slammed into the top of the wall, tearing through a squad of enemy infantry before catapulting off the far side, shattered and broken as it hurled parts of itself and the mostly mechanical soldiers down away from the group as they tumbled off the wall. He could almost hear Ozrilli shrug. "Good enough. Open fire!"

The first shot, again, was from Drengr, who probably had been waiting, as it tore through an enemy officer and the man he had been talking to. Before they could respond, however, rounds poured from the guardhouse windows, as the two gunners from first squad let loose. A third automatic joined the fray, which he could only assume was the other Aumanii, their 'medic'. Moskovic had a love of heavy guns, almost as much as he enjoyed medical science, and his particular love of seeing the strange and different injuries inflicted by war made him simultaneously an ideal medic able to address literally any injury, and probably the creepiest motherfucker in that squad. In this platoon, that came as something of a compliment.

Even as Lai'Kossi stepped out with her autocannon, and Bane's team surged forward on the far side under covering fire, there was no way to quickly dispatch over a hundred thinking, feeling enemies. Enemies began to filter out of the tower as well, surging forward to hold back this sudden attack. A gun position opened fire on the guard house from above, but another deafening crack from Drengr silenced it almost before it began.

Raul Ellzana let the carbine fall to his side as he lay down on the ground, lifting the grenade launcher up and sighting it without even being able to see the target. After a moment he let a few rounds off, as accurate as any mortar with a spotter, that tore apart the reinforcements coming from the tower. A pitched grenade from the guardhouse ricocheted off a sandbag, dropping neatly behind cover where a number of guardsmen waited, a particular throw that was clearly Eyvirri's handywork.

Enemy fire didn't even get to be particularly effective until a sandbag bunker that had been set up finally came into play, as a pair of weapons teams finally had moved their weapons to face the foe, and autocannon rounds stitched across the reinforced face of the guardhouse. For the first time since their arrival, a true gunfight began, as the support elements on either side showered each other with rounds, and man after man ran toward the bunker to keep the guns firing. Dozens died trying to reach the position, but even more made it, as Kelhun's gun kept tearing the bodies off the weapons.

Cutler's smaller rounds, however, were directed elsewhere, as the coilgun's high-impact munitions slammed repeatedly against a massive, three-meter wide searchlight. After several dozen rounds, it shifted with a massive groan, and suddenly came free, dropping heavily onto the emplacement, leaving only a smear of blood and a single heavily augmented arm stuck out from the mess. Bane's team was deep in the assault, with the smaller Red Eye fighting back-to-back with the much larger, dark-green skinned Atoran. Even compared to the other Atoran, KokoShikki was significantly larger, almost a foot taller. This brought most of the small guardsmen at her, firing wildly until they could try to jab at her using their bayonets.

The enemy never really had a chance against the pair. Decades of fighting experience showed as the two veterans dismantled man after man, with Baen ramming his SMG into a man's mouth and firing until the shots came out the far side, then using the man's body as cover and firing out the back of the fellow's head into his comrades, downing another two while holding up the body at arm's length. Kokoshikki was firing the massive Akki from one hand, having taken one of the weapons from the locals and using the bayonet attached to cut and jab back at them, her overwhelming strength knocking them aside in pairs as they tried to get at her. One, further back, tried to line up a shot at her head, only to have the bayonet-armed rifle thrown into his chest, burying it almost halfway to the receiver.

A few started to back away, quickly cut down and turned to red spray as Lai'Kossi neared the fray, the massive autocannon on her primary arm tearing apart anyone who got far enough away from the pair for a clean shot. Somehow, in the melee, the two crazed individuals had found time to gather trophies, as Kokoshikki proudly displayed the tongue of an enemy officer, Baen laughed, putting on the peaked cap of his own kill, and holding forth a dozen fingers which he had personally removed from their owners with his hatchet. As the squads hurried forward to catch up, Drengr called out a warning.

The shot slammed into his upper chest, just below the collarbone, and slammed Si'Kossi into the ground. Less than a second later the crack of Drengr's rifle signalled an end to the shooter, but the worst was yet to come.

Looming over him, Kokoshikki began her 'other' job, that of the medic.

"Oh, don't worry" she purred, looking quite pleased with herself as she gazed down at him. "Nothing important fell out, and it missed the bone, so you can still fight! Shot went right through. Hold still."

Lifting the Akki, she fired off the three-round burst at the tower without a glance, looking as surprised as everyone else at the call for a medic that followed, but ignored it as she pressed the red-hot metal to his wound.

Sicko grit his teeth at the smell and sound of his flesh searing back together to stop the bleeding, only to see her breathing deeply of the scent and grinning as she pulled him back up. "Good as new! Better, actually. Scars give you character, little one."

Lifting the barrel to her lips, she licked his half-charred blood from the barrel and grinned, nodding. "I'll want a part of you later, Si'Kossi. If you die on my watch I'm gonna have a feast!"

Bodies lay all around them in various degrees of destruction. Most were still intact in some ways, though many that had been struck by Lai'Kossie's autocannon or Kokoshikki's Akki were little more than smears. The mechanical units fared better, with many showing only gaping holes and twisted insides, though several lay on the ground, twitching and sparking where their heads used to be. A single hurdle remained, as the tower had been emptied, but reinforcements would no doubt soon be arriving.

This time, it was Ozrilli who led her squad forward, gesturing for him and his squad to stay behind, gaurding their backs. It only took a moment to deploy his squad, and he dared a glance back at the other team, watching them as they did the final assault.

Ozrilli and Eyvirri stood back to back, throwing open the heavy doors that led up and stepping through, firing off careful shots at anyone they saw. Most of the crew seemed to barely even shoot back, though a few shots were made, only a single one even came near as the pair turned slowly, almost in a dance, with the two rifles coughing out shots in a careful harmony. It was almost beautiful.

And then it was over, and they gestured for Raul to do his final task. As he hurried up the stairs, he did it with an excited sort of gusto, taking pleasure in linking all the charges to a single trigger, and strapping them to the gun mounts with quick, practiced ease. The entire attack to clear the top and set the charges took less than a minute before they all retreated back down, setting up the beacon to signal for evac.

It was there that things got dangerous. Without anyone else to kill, the argument between Baen and Kokoshikki became heated, as the fingers faced off against tongue like ceremonial dice against a ribbon prize, and the cap was shaken angrily at the blood-soaked cape, threatening to devolve into another conflict right there on the wall.

But for most of the team, it was time to relax, as Cutler finally lit up his cigarette, smiling and offering a drag to the others out of his polite nature. Hong Bao sat quietly, with his eyes closed as he enjoyed the big cigar that still hung between his lips, the same one lit up at the start of the mission. He had said many times. A mission finished in a single cigar was a good day, and he certainly seemed to be enjoying it, letting the heat of the burning buildings below wash over him as he sat in the light of the setting sun, he seemed easily the most peaceful of them all. Most, though, just went through basic weapon checks until the heavy Roc arrived, informing them as the top of the tower lit up in brilliant white tha they were the first team done with their objectives.

Hong Bao was right again. A good mission. Drinks, of course, were then on whoever lost between Baen and Kokoshikki. Any other outcome and it would have been him or Ozrilli. In truth, she had only ever had to buy once.

He could respect that sort of efficient professionalism. One mistake, never made again. If only she could use his name, he might actually like her as a CO.

Agrexis Manufactoria, Antronov System
Xentarch Sub-Sector, Khandosian Protectorate

The descent was made with little to no interruption, though enemy air cover was taking a heavy toll against the Scylla pilots and their light fighters as they faced off against Lightnings and Marauders, they did their job admirably, doing enough damage to keep the worst of the air cover at bay. Reports from the Ravenous Pride above were just as promising - the Aegis barriers were holding enemy fire at bay, and would provide sufficient cover for the ascending dropships when the time came. Already, several of her group had gone off to begin pickup duties with the Childer units that had cleared their targets, and recover pilots who were likely to have survived the crashes, moving in groups where their defensive weapons could protect them from the enemy fighter cover. Even so, the heavy ships were as tough as the big enemy marauders, and most were able to move safely, despite the attacks. Perhaps half the Scylla fighters remained in the air, and their sacrifices were acceptable. After all, Harold didn't even want them back.

That was, of course, a matter of annoyance to Nor, who stood in her power-assisted armor, watching the readouts as the Roc settled down. At her side was the massive Hades cannon, and all around her corporate militia were cradling weapons. They were good, but most were green in this situation. Normally, she preferred to have Kaito down here directing the troops, but she couldn't pass up the chance to have Harold on the ground, too.

Of course, that had led to Sochi coming along as well, wearing little more than her Slayer skinsuit and a thin breastplate that didn't even fully conceal her chest, no doubt providing absolutely no useful protection. However, that was her way, and she had insisted. Going into battle carrying a couple blades and no guns seemed endlessly idiotic, but there was no helping it now. Perhaps this was where her little family would die, or at least, the supposed adults of it. Almost certainly her favorite plaything. Damn you, Sochi!

Harold was a little more reasonable, though he was pretty dumb in the opposite direction. He had invested heavily in a Watchman walker, bearing an Aegis shield and a Hades cannon, thinking it would be all he would need, but he was still not very familiar with using it. Where the Childer had run endless drills, Harold had powered the machine up twice and walked it around the bay, then fired off the cannon for a few seconds. He was about as green as they come. She could only hope that the Childer really did pull most defenders off away from the target location.

AS the doors came up, she spun up her guns, and the Corpmil spilled out into the open area, ignoring the civilians that were running or cowering. A shot rang out from one man carrying a gun, and he was quickly gunned down, but there was a dazed looking man staring at her, next to her right boot. She considered him a second, then marched off, determining he was unarmed. She didn't have time or ammo to waste on civilians.

The advance was quick to the entrance to the massive facility. There were eight different approaches for her teams, all of them forced to blast through massive gates of reinforced whatever-the-ultra-thick-material was. Iron-crete or something. It didn't matter. A number of carefully set charges weakened the gates enough that one could be smashed inward by a trio of Watchmen, and they had access, leaving the other side of the gate standing tall and defiant.

What was laid out before her was a massive, almost endless cavern of factory floor, building everything from what seemed to be civilian equipment to weapons and vehicle parts. But her amazement at the scale of such a groundside factory was cut short as a number of her men fell, screaming as some weapon burned through their shields from a position on a gantry above. Sneering, she lifted her cannon and let loose, tearing apart the supports until enemy collapsed with the gantry to the factory floor, almost two hundred meters below. Snarling, she advanced.

"Grab teams, go! Keep your eyes up! These troops are well provisioned, and definately want you dead. Harold, don't you fucking wander off! You stay right here with me! Sochi, just...sit on his shoulder or something, okay?"

The look she got from her wife was probably about as full of venom as she had ever gotten, but the girl complied, well enough for now. All around her, the corpmil troops surged out, often in power-assisted armor, though some were in full powered armor. Teams operated around their watchman support, with the big exosuits providing heavy fire, and carrying on their back storage containers for the assault teams to dump equipment into.

And dump they did. Computers were torn apart looking for storage devices, and fully completed components were stuffed into the armored boxes. Weapons, ammo, even a number of what appeared to be replacement arms, and interface devices were quickly gathered, and they had only entered the facility halfway. On the far side of the massive cavern, past hundreds of support columns, she could see another team, and could hear the gunfire of the other teams as they continued to push forward.

Unfortunately, they never even got close to the middle. It was almost halfway there when more complex enemies started appearing. What had once been men had their bodies morphed into heavy weapons platforms that strolled apparetly mindlessly forward, massive shells seeking out her men, and forcing them into cover. They were tough, but not very mobile. The problem was, they bought time. Following behind them were more, as they started to pour out of what was apparently the central control center of the facility. She could see them beginning to exit in their hundreds, led by larger, more elaborate forces.

Gritting her teeth, Nor called the end to the raid, grabbing a half-completed arm and stuffing it into a container on the back of Harold's Watchman.

"Fall back! They're not going to let us go further forward. Grab what you can carry as you go, we're leaving! Use the Aegis shields as cover as we withdraw, and keep your eyes up! The enemy cna probably deploy above us!"

[Khandosia]

Saratov City | Planet Antronov

Administratum District - Hive Zone Primus

The devastation wrought by the interlopers was, in the grand scheme of things, minor. Four of the perimeter wall's anti-air strong points had been gutted, their Planetary Defense Force crewmen killed and their weapon emplacements destroyed. A larger than average number of PDF troopers had been killed attempting to reach their intended defensive positions, caught in crossfires that anyone without experience would have assumed to be random or lucky. The manufactorum facilities had likewise suffered minor damage. Machinery that had either been damaged or outright stolen would be replaced within the next one hundred and five hours, forty-three minutes. Production capacity would be reduced by a conservative thirty-three percent until the repairs and replacements were made.

The surgical nature of the strike was intriguing to Magos Dominus Xerxech. His vessel had been in the Antronov System, mid-way between the system's namesake of a planet and the Mandeville Point. Using the extended noospheric actuators aboard his vessel, the Ramanujan, the tech priest had been able to place himself within the bodies of tech-guard that were defending the manufacorum. What he saw had been...illuminating.

The enemy had appeared suddenly, utilizing a form of faster than light travel that was unfamiliar with Xerxech. In the last decade since the Khandosian Protectorate had seen the end of it's warp storm-enforced isolation, and the subsequent discovery that they were no longer in their home galaxy, the Mechanicus had been frustrated by what they found. Technology thought to be impossible, the most basic of which was the plethora of physics-breaking forms that FTL-technology took. The enemy vessel had simply shifted into reality above the planet and begun it's operation.

Xerxech partitioned his mind, running one section to study a loop of pictcam footage that had been taken of all the recent combat. Another was busy calculating the necessary energy to form a wormhole by which a ship of the size and mass of the enemy's might travel through. A half dozen others were busy with the minutiae of overseeing the refueling the Ramanujan, assisting the local tech priests with data fragmentation overhaul, and his current physical location -- listening to the Imperial governor in who's command center he currently stood.

"As I was saying," Governor Rënhaus turned from the holoprojector and faced Xerxech, "How did your brother priests and their monitoring system fail to detect the enemy?"

"Fabricator Macotrek Delehan explained this to you before, Governor," blurted Xerxech. The sound of his voice was different from most other tech priests that the gathered PDF officers and planetary nobility had ever heard. Instead of the metallic grind of a vox-transmitted voice, or one created by augmetic means, Xerxech had a penchant for music. His current voice was one that had been supplied by a famous operatic singer who's ability to reach certain pitches, exquisite wavelengths, with his tenor voice had attracted Xerxech. He'd paid an Administratum adept and local lord a hefty price to acquire the singer's larynx.

++Cortex Stream 1-1A: Enemy combat machine, or walker, is intriguing. Similar to the Imperial Guard standard issue Mars-Pattern Sentinel Walker, however...function and capabilities match better the Astartes Centurion warplate. Continuing observations...++

Xerxech cocked his head to one side, the movement exaggerated by the ancient-inspired form of his helmet. It had been formed from a preserved pict, of a pict, of a far older digitized copy that had reportedly come from Old Roma. The smooth style with the enlarged cheek guards and a sloped neck guard with ribbing at the nape, projecting ear guards, brass trim, and decorative bosses. It was both style and function -- something which Xerxech's more human side appreciated. Red robes of the Martian Priesthood hid most of his body, but the visible bits hinted at an almost anachronistic-looking suit of armor. His faceplate was formed to look like a human's, except that where eye-holes might have been expected in a mask, there were two red glass disks. They whirled in their sockets.

"Would you perhaps like me to replay his message, again?"

"N-No! That won't be necessary," gritted Governor Rënhaus.

The Imperial governor had been appointed three years before. As a former officer of the Imperial Guard and having served a length of service no less than forty years, he'd been granted the right to settle a new world. The fact that he'd kept his connections to the high and mighty within the Sub-Sector government had assured him his position. The fact that he would likely suffer censure once the planet's tithe grade was not adequately met before the next month was an issue.

++Cortex Stream 2-1A: Observation: a notification from yourself as Magos Dominus of the Ordo Reductor to the local sub-sector Administratum office may suffice to lessen any such censure.++

++Cortex Stream 3-2B: Query: how does such involvement into the planetary affairs benefit or advance our cause?++

++Cortex Stream 2-2A: Rumination: the governor will be more likely to acquiesce to any requests we ask if we assure him of our intercession on his behalf.++

"I will help you, Governor Rënhaus," said Xerxech. "I will transmit a report to the sub-sector Governor's office on Karsk. With my authority and evidence to the recent attack, and assurances that tithes will be met, they will likely not censure you or your planet." The emotion that spread through the gathered officers was palpable. Xerxech detected no fewer than seven biochemical reactions that generally related to "relief". "How interesting is the biology of man?" thought Xerxech with the upper most part of his mind, focused on the here and now.

"That would be most appreciated, Magos Dominus," said the woman standing just behind the governor. Her name, age, position, rank, biochemical chart, medical history, and a plethora of other data swam across the noospheric overlay as he turned one of his eyes to her. General Julevana Kerch was the commander of Antronov's PDF forces. She was old, yet kept young by obvious juvenant treatments - a privileged of her rank, but looked late 40's. Her hair was the color of brass, neatly kept in a long braid that hung over her shoulder.

"That reminds me, General Kerch," said Xerxech. "I'd appreciate it if your PDF commissars would cease any executions that they may have scheduled. I am in need of new stock for my Thallax Cohorts."

A quick look of queasiness passed over the general's face as she considered the tech priest. She nodded, swallowing. "T-That can be arranged. I will see to it that the Commissariat get in contact with you."

"As quickly and efficiently as possible," added Xerxech. "I will need them."

"Why would that be?" asked Governor Rënhaus. "Surely you're not expecting an attack to come again?"

"Negative, Governor. I will be following the enemy."

The gathered officers were nonplussed. They awkwardly looked at one another, comprehension only dawning on a few as they took in what Xerxech was going to do.

"You're going to follow them?" spouted another officer, a major by his rank.

"But that's impossible, isn't it?" added General Kerch. "I'm unaware of any way we could follow them."

++Cortex Steam 5-1A: Analysis of the upper atmospheric anomaly completed. Numerous radiation particles detected. X-ray, gamma, neutron, and three previously unknown particles accounted. Astrogation methodology and faster-than-light hypothesis leads to the conclusion that the enemy vessel created a stable wormhole through which it traveled.++

"I may have to spend some time discovering the finer details," replied Xerxech, "But it is theoretically possible for me to reconstruct the astronomic conditions under which the enemy appeared and then left. Once that is done I need merely confer with tech priest members of the Divisio Astrologicus. With their expertise combined with my data analysis, I should be able to discover the origin point from which the enemy struck."

<Engage neural congress,> Xerxech announced through the consciousness chamber of his inner most self. <Noospheric autoshunt acquired. Uploading...>

Xerxech's mind became a feverish constellation of thoughts, imperatives, and raw data. The tech-priest's supercogitators tamed the torrent of his formerly divided consciousness; the torrent of infostreams, the blizzard of pict feeds, and omnispectral miasma. It was a privilege to experience the Unmaker God's holy war through so many optics, augurs, and targeters. To comprehend the Motive Force through an unfolding data-storm of events, both planet-shattering and inconsequential. It was how Xerxech imagined the Omnissiah experienced the galaxy -- through the hallowed workings of all true constructs and in glorious union.

Xerxech plucked one star from the cosmos of consciousnesses within him. It was the memory recording of a tech-guard soldier. Xerxech immersed himself in the memory, momentarily reliving the experiences of the skitarius.


Hypaspist First Class Decura 110-Nornhein raised his lascarbine to his shoulder and fired. A number of enemy combatants had rushed through the gap made in the manufactorum's doors. Adrenal glands pumped a sudden and potent cocktail of combat stimulants through Decura 110-Nornhein. He watched an enemy walker-construct barrel into the entry space and fire off a number of accurate heavy caliber weapon fire. A number of other tech-guard troopers that had been in upper gantries fell, their bodies shredded.

Numerous other human-like beings poured in around the walker-construct. They wore a mix of some unknown armor, or what appeared to be power-assisted prosthetics -- not unlike what some servitors and tech thralls were equipped with when their duties involved heavy labor and lifting. Decura 110-Nornhein focused his fire on those lesser armed individuals, his training and current weaponry dictating his movements.

With a rush, the tech-guard soldier ran from cover to cover, managing to get close to one of them as they attempted to dismantle a cogitator attached to one of the conveyor lines. With an enhanced and drug-fueled spurt Decura 110-Nornhein rushed the individual and struck him across the back of the unguarded head with the butt of his lascarbine. The blow was just sufficient enough to knock the enemy combatant to the ground, though not unconscious.

A pair of hulking and ponderous Herakli, their gun limbs armed with a lascannon and an Astartes-pattern assault cannon respectively, stepped forwards and unleashed a hail of firepower upon the enemy. The other enemy combatants that had been in the near vicinity were forced back, taking cover behind the enemy walker-construct which was now using a strange form of refractor field. No matter, it was enough cover that Decura 110-Nornhein was able to land another two blows to the enemy combatant's head, fully knocking them out. He took out metal cord usually reserved for hauling damaged vehicles behind Atlas recovery tanks, and used it to tie up the prisoner.


Xerxech rose up and out of the memory. Not only did he have a lead from his orbital data, but he had a prisoner as well.

"Governor Rënhaus, please see to the small details as needed. I will advise you on reconstruction and improvements," said Xerxech. "In the mean time, I must go and see to other pressing needs."

"Of, uh, course Magos. Thank you for your assistance."

Without another word, Xerxech turned and left. His augmented legs made a loud crumping sound as the metal hit the rockcrete floor of the command bunker. Outside the command center a repuslor craft bearing the Cog Mechanicus and the personal heraldry and emblem of Xerxech's order waited. He climbed up into the rear and pulsed a noospheric order for the driver to take him back to the Agrexis Manufactoria.

[Huerdae]

Suidochi Synthetics Frontier Office, Iel'Hassan
Tan'Naus Frontier Sector, Huerdaen Domain

Lady Nor'Tallun lay on the ground next to the briefing table, her back against the cold metal as she stared at the ceiling in annoyance. In the distance, she could still hear the pained cries of her husband as a surgeon pulled small pieces of shrapnel from his ultimately minor and unimportant wound. Had he been a normal soldier, he'd be waiting for treatment still, but instead, he had demanded they all be medevac'd down to the offices to see the CorpMil surgeon to take care of a flesh wound.

Nearby, making not a sound, Sochi was sewing her arm back up where a particularly skilled enemy had managed to slash at her flesh with an energy weapon somewhere in the middle of the melee. Only Lord Saruhi was standing, looking at charts and information that was flowing back in to the central console in the room as grab teams took stock of their gains and reported casualties. Overall, it was a successful run. But she wasn't interested in it. Her gaze was on the ceiling because she had nothing to do. Harold would nurse the injury for weeks, and Sochi was so angry at her for letting him get hurt she wouldn't even respond, let alone match her attempts at play. Instead, she could occupy herself with work or...laying on the floor.

Her nostrils were still saturated with the smell of gunfire, and normally she'd be partying with Kaito about a successful mission, drinking to the success. But Harold's presence had thrown all that off. Kaito's words were almost lost behind Harold's howling when he finally broke through her reverie.

"It was a mistake, you know. Bringing those t-"

He stopped, seeming to consider it, and she caught Sochi's silent stare from across the room as he hastily modified his statement.

"-Harold along cost you in trained soldiers. Four of that squad died, two more than expected. Multiple injuries, and one unaccounted for. Two wounded because he jerked when shrapnel pierces his calf. It's a fucking flesh wound, Nor. And he panicked, cost half his load, probably someone's life, and two wounded. And after all that, one of the squad never even made it back, probably dead. By your own algorithm of determining success, your squad fared the worst, by thirty seven points. That's a larger gap between you and the squad above you than between them and the lead team. WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!?"

She grimaced, and Sochi stood, looking at him in the way that she did when she was measuring a man up. Most people, under that gaze, backed down, herself included, but Kaito held firm, his jaw set as he turned his eyes to her. "Listen, Sochi-sama, I'm thankful for your help in keeping my men alive, but I can't let you, or Harold, go on any more missions with the teams. This little game your family played cost lives. Lives. That may not matter to Harold, or even to Nor, but it does to me. And I have a suspicion it does to you."

The woman considered him, then finally nodded, responding in her soft, slightly-accented voice as her uniquely-Pankrees eyes met his. "Understood, Lord Saruhi. And I do apologize for the loss of your men. They were brave, if...foolish. I would suggest you never again hand them off to someone like my sister-wife, who seems to enjoy this as all part of a game and putting the lives of people important to me in danger, instead of the grave issue it is."

She seemed to consider saying more, but then suddenly bowed, pointedly, and walked from the room, killing any response he could have had. His sharp words, instead, returned to her.

"Get up, you lazy bitch."

Fighting her way to her feet, Nor rose to lean on the far side of the table, meeting Kaito's gaze across the numbers and information from the raid. "I still outrank you by superiority, Kaito."

"Not on this raid. You gave operational command to me, and that means debriefing. This was a shitshow. You brought on extras, lost part of a team's haul, and cost me several wounded, as well as people who depend on me to keep them alive. If I hadn't shifted two teams over to cover you when Harold, in all his brilliance, turned tail to run back to the Roc, there's a good chance you'd be dead. If Sochi-sama hadn't stepped in against their melee charge, you may well have cost me a whole lot more, possibly even your life and our boss."

He seemed to realize she wasn't caring about his scolding, and immediately snapped back to his Shield roots, rounding on her with a force of personality she had not seen him use before in the corporate command facility.

"Corp-Mil Lady Nor'Tallun! This is not a casual event! You are being debriefed!."

Stepping around the table in a single stride, he caught her by her throat and lifted, choking off the air to her lungs and causing her to open her mouth, struggling to breath. She found her face inches from his as he leaned in, sneering angrily.

"In a debriefing, you salute your commanding officer. You give short, accurate reponses, and you do not play games!" With a quick final squeeze that left her neck throbbing, he released her, and Nor gasped in a breath, eyes wide. When she didn't immediately salute, Kaito made ready to drive a fist into her gut as a punitive measure used often in the Shield to teach a proper salute. Against a taught gut, it would cause only limited discomfort. Against an unprepared stomach, however, it could be quite painful. Snapping to a salute, she glared back at him, sneering as she coughed out a response. "Yes Sir."

He held her gaze for a bit, and finally turned his back, leaving her at attention with fists as her hips as he spoke. "Tell me how this came about. How is it we lost half a load off a watchman under your direct supervision, and ended up loading back up, and lifting off without one of our men?"

Gritting her teeth, she spoke past the pain in her throat, finding her voice wheezing slightly from his prior grip. Carefully, though, she kept her voice even, refusing to blink or break off the stare to look straight ahead as a salute generally required. "Our support walker suffered a strike to the leg that pierced its armor, causing the operator to panic. This, in turn, exposed the supporting squad to enemy fire. Suppressing fire was reduced in this way, causing our team to improvise for cover. Those who continued to follow the plan found themselves exposed and isolated under enemy fire. In an attempt to withdraw from the facility, multiple injuries were incurred, as well as three complete casualties, at least two confirmed dead, the third suspected."

Nodding, Kaito turned his back to her, and she was tempted to drop the salute, but the tone on his voice warned her that would not be the best option. "...I expect a complete report. It must be complete."

Eyes narrowing, she continued. "The recovery of the rest of our team-"

He cut her off, nearly snarling "Not ALL of the rest of your team."

Continuing, she could almost hear her teeth grinding. "We took up positions outside the facility, using the brick-"

"-Ai-Ai-Ai! Accuracy, soldier!"

"[i]USING THE ROC-VARIANT, ROC HEAVY FLIGHT CHASSIS DESIGNATED HT-747 to provide fire support while we recovered squad members. During this time Acting-Landsknecht Harold Karson attempted to board the vessel, and suffered damage to the rear of the vehicle, spilling approximately 56% of the acquired cargo, including three objects of superior-level interest due to enemy heavy weapon fire. Once the Watchman was boarded, I ordered the squad to withdraw."

Kaito was silent, glaring at her. "Without checking your squad readout."

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Yes. At the time, logs indicate he was inactive, but living."

"So you let one of my men be captured."

She glared at him, resolution, and finally retorted. "He's probably dead now, so wh-"

The fist slamming into her face sent her sprawling, and she only barely caught sight of him slamming the door as she rose, rubbing her cheek. It was the hands the helped pull her up that caught her off guard, pushing them away until she saw Sochi, eyes gazing down on her in wonder. "I didn't know he had it in him."

Nor grunted, angry. "He has no right to hit me. What the hell are you doing here, anyway?"

Sochi just laughed, shaking her head and smiling. "I couldn't leave, I wanted to see the show. He's very interesting...you could use a firm hand now and then."

Nor's grunt turned to a groan, as she realized that part of her had hoped for perhaps a little more from him. "I hate you, Sochi. Just because you don't get anything from it yourself doesn't mean you should push me into more and more questionable things."

Grinning, Sochi just tapped her nose lightly. "But that's what you're for, dear! So I can live my deviant lifestyle through you. Don't pretend you don't like the freedom it gives you."

Sar'Korren Overlook, Iel'Hassan
Tan'Naus Frontier Sector, Huerdaen Domain

The Iel'Hassan system was a rather unique place, and most Huerdaen had no idea about it. Its crowning jewel was an arid world, capable of supporting life that also had amazingly few natural hazards. The weather was predictable and generally calm, with extreme changes occuring only in the polar regions, leaving the equatorial areas almost untouched by storms and other phenomena. It was mineral rich, serving as a mining location that quickly grew to be of interest to the Star Empire, and had very easily gone from corporate sponsored haven to an Imperial Colony. There were no less than ten major settlements, but by far his favorite was Sar'Korren, outside of which the field office sat.

Sar'Korren sat suspended between two rock faces approximately 300 meters over one of the few open-water rivers on the planet. This water served to invigorate Sar'Korren, giving it an edge over the other cities. It was carefully protected, and while some of the water was harvested and purified for use, much of it was permitted to run its course. That's what made the scene from the overlook so beautiful at night.

The city itself had little light, but there were a number of pathways that led into the complexes that had been now built into the rockfaces, and some of those showed light, creating a rather small, well-hidden abode for the almost half a million people who lived and worked there. Many worked for Suidochi, but the city was primarily a mine, reaching into the cliff faces on either side for precious mineral reserves, even as they built further and further into the stone. It looked like little more than an elaborate bridge, but he knew that almost 90% of the city was out of sight. Directly beneath his feet, the city led into the lower levels of the Suidochi frontier office, though he was almost half a kilometer from the crossing.

Still, out here in the open, it was silent. All the activity of the city was secluded beneath the surface. The massive rail lines that fed to the other cities didn't come out of their tunnels to breach the surface for several kilometers, meaning that the noise and light of mose cities were missing from the overlook. The sky was dark, and filled with bright, healthy stars, and the distant roar of the river just barely reached him, healthy and whole compared to other Huerdaen settlements. It was, for lack of a better word, beautiful and peaceful. A triumph of nature on a world one would not expect to find it.

Even the wind, this close to the equator, was warm and gentle, and the heat lightning from the northern pole gave it a surreal, almost supernatural appearance as it cast eerie flashes across the landscape, sometimes flickering as lightning stitched across the unseen landscape, light bouncing from the clouds into the lower reaches, even as far as he was here. He had heard that to go into the northern reaches it was as beautiful as it was deadly, but he had no desire to see it in person. The southern pole was apparently just as frantic, though less so in this local season, and positioned as he was, he wouldn't know.

The heavy mechanical sound of the blast door behind him opening had him turning, angrily, only to see one of his younger soldiers, a man just out of the youth militia, standing there, surprised. Quickly, Kaito removed the scowl from his face and waved the young Ni'Kouen over.

The boy-no, young man, despite his appearances, said nothing and joined him, leaning against the entrenchments of the gun position, gazing over the empty landscape with a shuddering sigh. "That was my first combat mission."

Kaito nodded, not entirely sure on what to say, simply watching his companion.

Without a response, Ni'Kouen continued, nervously. "It...isn't like what they told me about. Easy. Quick. There was screaming. People fleeing." His words were slow, faltering. "I feel like a murderer. Some sort of monster. I saw a squadmate go down, his flesh burning off. What are we even doing, Sir?"

The Pankrees looked out over the peace, finding it suddenly disturbed by Ni'Kouen's uncertainty, and sighed. "The job we're paid for. It's a lot cleaner here, you know, than in the Shield. I was a Captain, there. Took the job here for the promotion. It's...impersonal, here. In the Shield, you stay, you fight over the dirt, you get invested. Here, you go, you take what you want, and leave. It's almost a game in comparison."

Ni'Kouen nodded, looking into the distance. Then, he knelt, emptying his dinner onto the dark plating that they stood on. Kaito let him finish and clean himself up in silence before he continued.

"I'll get you a transfer. There are a lot of corporate jobs that don't work like this. You've got potential, but this isn't for everyone. You'd make a great executive in the inner Empire, where it's leadership and charisma that matter. It's more vicious out here. Sometimes, it's hard to tell whether or not we're pirates."

Ni'Kouen just nodded, excusing himself, and leaving Kaito to watch the flashes from the lightning, so far to the north, as it bounced from the oddly-colored clouds, illuminating the world in a strange blue hue with every flash.

[Khandosia]

Saratov City | Planet Antronov

Planetary Defense Force Barracks


The baton came down again.

Thwack!

The wet, meaty smack of lacquered wood resounded about the rally field. Flecks of blood flew through the air as the sunlight beat down. The man being beat fell to his feet, heaving. Gurgling.

"You Emperor-forsaken scum aren't fit to lick the dirt off my boots," the Training Master growled at the men gathered before him. He kicked the fallen man, eliciting a mewling grunt of pain. "But then that's why you're all here to being with."

The words echoed around the bare field, enclosed by a rockcrete wall topped by barbed wire. The only entrance was blocked by a movable barrier, equally entangled with barbed wire; four armed Imperial Guardsmen standing to either side in waist-high sandbag positions. They hardly gave the men and women inside the corral any notice, although when they did their faces were etched by frowns dripping with disgust and eyes filled with hate. The almost four-hundred men and women inside were here because they'd failed. They had failed the Emperor, Governor Rënhaus, their commanding officers, and their fellow Planetary Defense Troopers. Either by not appearing at their posts when they were suppose to, or by some other failing -- real or imagined.

It mattered little to Jacob Kaspre.

He stood back up, a trickle of blood coming down his chin from a busted lip. He repressed the desire to lick his lips, knowing that to do so would only make it hurt and because the Training Master was still standing before him, eyes piercing and ever watchful.

It doesn't matter. Natasha is safe. That's all that matters.

He and the assembled had been gathered just after the mysterious attackers had left. Officers of the Officio Prefectus, their red sashes and skull emblems marking them, had begun rounding them up. Each of the commissars had worn bolt pistols at their wastes, or whatever weapon they happened to favor. Some of the more zealous had, after identifying a soldier on their list, summarily and swiftly put a bolt or las round through their head. Before more than two dozen had been dispatched like that, a high ranking Imperial Guard officer had appeared and halted the executions.

"You're not fit for anything," roared the Training Master. "Though perhaps I could convince the Commissar to hand you over to the Cog-heads. They always need more meat to turn into servitors."

That threat was enough to make more than a few gag. Only the most hardened of criminals were given over to such treatment. Most servitors were created from vat-grown clones, but normal humans could also be subject to the process. Jacob knew that it had been much more common in the past for such punishment to be meted out, even to the least of criminals.

"But instead..." the words rolled out, causing the air to grown still as the assembled all held their breathe. "But instead...you're all to be put to work in a penal battalion. You all get a last, single chance to redeem yourselves in the eyes of the God-Emperor, by dying for Him in battle."

A ragged breathe of relief came over the assembled. It could have been worse. Much worse.

"Not only that, but we've already assigned you to a commander. Magos Dominus Xerxech now owns all of you. You'll act as if his words, and those of his proxies, came from the Golden Throne itself."

He glared about. "Am I understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!" the assembled raggedly shouted.

"Good. Then form lines and prepare to receive your discipline collar."

* * * * * * *

Outer Antronov System | Mandeville Point


Where before the mandeville point of the system had been closely watched by four of the large and rather bloated system defense monitors, there was now but one. The lone vessel put itself on a parallel vector for half an hour to that of the Ramanujan, before reducing it's speed by a half; a mark of respect between navy vessels within the Imperial Fleet. Whether or not the master of the Ark Mechanicus Ramanujan cared or noted the act of respect was moot. Without ceremony or notification to the System Defense Fleet, it activated it's ancient warp engines and disappeared into the ether.

Xerxech blinked away the noospheric notification sent to him by the Ramanujan's bridge commander that they had successfully made the transition to the warp. Nestled back within the inner sanctum of his workshops aboard the ark mechanicus was akin to a drowning man receiving his first burst of air after reaching the surface. It was only here that he felt truly at one with the Machine. All of his mechadendrites were hard-plugged into various stations and cogitators. He had once more divided his consciousness, as was his habit.

<Engage neural congress,> Xerxech announced through the consciousness chamber of his inner most self. <Noospheric autoshunt acquired. Connecting to ship system's...connected.>

Xerxech's mind delved into a bright, glowing ocean of pure data. The noosphere sea was awash with data, swirling in whirlpools around various cogitator functions that were required for the vessel to operate effectively; or there were slow eddies, where information was existent but not currently being used or required. Through it all Xerxech could feel the presence of the Ramanujan's machine spirit. Like the shadow of a deep ocean leviathan swimming beneath, lurking out of sight but yet ever present. Xerxech made sure to give his proper greetings, adulation, worship, and respect to the Ramanujan. The machine spirit was older than the Imperium of Man itself, as this vessel had been forged above ancient Mars at some point between M27 and M30.

How it had come into Xerxech's possession, or rather Xerxech's old master and teacher, Arch Magos Dominus Vertellus, was an interesting story. Many of the lexmechanics and those not yet very far down the path of Knowledge of their respective ordos, and within the Ordo Reductor, liked to tell it to each other and new comers whenever the opportunity presented itself.

The two tech priests, master and student, had not found the ship. Rather, the ship had found them.

Just when their primary vessel, a converted Lunar-class cruiser, was about to be destroyed by marauding Ork vessels on the edge of the Khand Sector, the Ramanujan had appeared like a phantom from a nearby nebula. It's automated systems had registered and identified the Mechanicus vessel, before turning the plethora of it's deadly weapon systems upon the orks, obliterating them utterly.

The ship had acquiesced to Vertellus and Xerxech coming aboard, and agreed to harbor them. The fact that they were of the Ordo Reductor seemed to please the Ramanujan, as it itself was filled with all that was necessary to carry out a war. In the near two millenium that Xerxech had been aboard the vessel, he was continually astounded by what he discovered. Though the vessel had been mapped several times, each subsequent mapping foray revealed some new corner of the vessel that had been somehow overlooked before. Weapon forges, research laboratories, training facilities capable of holding mock battles that could involve tens of thousands of soldiers and vehicles, reclamation processors, etc. The list went on and on.

The jealousy of the other tech priests of the Khand Mechanicus' upper echelons was quite blatant. Xerxech had almost had to fight in what would have amounted to a civil war within the Mechanicus over control of the vessel after his master died some five hundred years prior. It had taken the arbitration of the Fabricator General, and even the Sector Lord Governor, to decide that matter.

++Cortex Stream 2-1A: Navigational projections are complete. There is a 87% likelyhood of an accurate jump to the predetermined destination.++

The key to tracking down their mysterious enemy had been in the radiation that they left behind. The fact that it was a wormhole was even better. Spectral analysis and use of more obscure levels of string theory had provided the necessary stepping stones to creating a tracking method. It was, as Xerxech was reminded, not perfect -- but in this instance he was allowing his confidence to sway him.

++Cortex Stream 1-B: Observation: Such action and supposition is not worthy of the Machine.++

++Cortex Stream 1-A: Observation noted. Counter-observation: such "chance" fits within the current parameters for calculated margins of error.++

++Cortex Stream 1-B: Counter accepted and logged.++

* * * * * * *

System Unknown


The energy expended and sent outwards through the void by a ship passing out of the warp was not an insignificant thing. On a planetary system's scale it would be something to be noticed. A phenomenon that required investigation, perhaps sooner or later -- depending on the laxity of the local authorities. In this case, the Huerdaen vessel was an Executioner-class Patrolman.

Dispatched and required to get a closer look at the edge of the system. Sensors could be unreliable at such great distances, especially with the background "white noise" of the galaxy at large, beyond.

"I'll bet you ten ingots that it's just another pirate vessel," said the vessel's pilot.

"Double or nothing that it's a dead pirate vessel -- blown up due to a faulty engine," replied another crewman.

"Deal!"

"Quiet on the bridge!"


The vessel took a few hours, using a few of the other planetary bodies within the system beyond Iel'Hassan to add extra velocity to their vectored trajectory, sling-shotting about. Once it was within roughly five AU of the last known position of the anomaly, the ship's captain began a thorough, active scan. They'd comb through the area to find what they could, though that would be a challenge. Any pirate with half a brain would have been long gone by now, to avoid the patrolmen as much as for anything else.

"Sir, nothing is coming up on our scans...at least nothing out of the ordinary and nothing that matches the power signature that HQ was telling us about."

"Let's take another pass through the center point again, then we'll--."

Proximity alarms sounded. The sensor technician was having conniptions.

A vessel had appeared as if a curtain had suddenly dropped, revealed as if by a magician's deft hand. It was less than two thousand kilometers away. The vessel itself was gargantuan, oversized in a ridiculous manner.

"Shields!"

"Munitions detected! Impact in--!"


The Ramanujan had unleashed a salvo of macro-shells from one of it's tertiary macrocannon batteries. Of the dozen rounds fired, two actually hit the small, 150m vessel; its shields not strong enough to counteract the sheer amount of kinetic force thrust upon it, to say nothing of the plasma-charge ordnance within the shells.

<Ship death: confirmed> the Ramanujan blared across it's noosphere.

* * * * * * *

High Orbit Above Iel'Hassan


Magos Dominus Xerxech stepped into the central command chamber with aplomb. Were he still within a flesh, meatbag exterior someone might have said that he swaggered. Instead the noospheric iconography that circled him showed his delight at having accurately found the system that they desired and echoes of the Ramanujan's own joy at a ship death. The electric vibrations of the Unmaker God were truly coursing through the air.

<Sensorium report is complete, Great One> canted Magos Dominar, one of Xerxech's many junior adepts and would-be apprentices. <There are ten settlements upon the planet. Analysis leads me to believe the primary one to be of most interest -- here, in the mountains, above a river.>

In the midst of a cavalcade of red-robbed tech priests of various shape and construction was a large cogitator bank, atop which sat a series of data-sluices and a hololith projector. A projected, 3-dimensional image of the planet appeared. Data streamed down around it, with small signifiers and glowing runes representing various targets on the planet. The planet turned and the image zoomed in above the aforementioned settlement.

<Suggestion> canted Magos Dominar <We make this the target of our physical attack.>

<Suggestion noted and accepted, Dominar> replied Xerxech, a small noospheric pulse equivalent to a pleased nod going out. He turned to face the armored figure of a Skitarii officer standing nearby.

<Alpha Primus Cinna-Nul, I greet you in the name of the Unmaker God.>

The Skitarii officer bowed his head and formed the Cog Mechanicus with his gloved hands before canting back a reply. <We stand ready to serve the will of the Omnissiah.>

<As it should always be> said Xerxech agreeably. <Before we need get your own tech guard involved in the battle, I would like to conduct some experiments. You will be patient, I hope, and confine yourself to commanding the helot -- correction: penal slave -- battalion from here?>

<As you command, Magos Dominus> he canted back, the signifiers in his canted speech being without emotion.

<Good. Let us begin.>

* * * * * * *

One of the settlements, the one nearest the planet's northern hemisphere, was obliterated from orbit. Without warning, the Ramanujan had dropped it's reflex shields and revealed itself again. The planet below had mere seconds to register the sudden appearance of the massive ship in orbit before it unleashed a blinding salvo of lance batteries opening up, in concert with bombardment cannon plasma-charged warheads. The city had attempted to bring a shield online, but hadn't been able to do so before the first few lance impacts and plasma-warhead explosions. It was little more than a scar upon the planet's surface afterwards.

A second settlement, this one's shields operable and up, was also selected and fired upon. It took no more than 2.32 minutes, but a sustained and focused bombardment saw the shields collapse and the settlement also become a crater of ash and rubble.

Notes and observations were taken of everything.

<Progressing to the third phase> canted Alpha Primus Cinna-Nul. <Drop ships are released for landing.>



One of the landers took AA fire from ground-based batteries and made a blazing path straight toward the city. A few thought that it might even crash into the center of the settlement, only to be disappointed when it impacted against the settlement's shields. The explosive fireball saw the complete destruction of the craft and all the penal slaves inside it's hull.

Jacob was luckily on a different lander.

He and at least two hundred other penal helots were within the hold, sitting in rows within kinetic cushion couches that barely managed to keep the gravitational forces of a sharp landing from breaking the bones of those sitting in them. Jacob heard more than a few cries of pain and anguish as a few unfortunates bit their tongues off -- not mindful of their jaws. Jacob himself shuddered as the ship activated it's thrusters for the final descent. He grimaced in pain as he felt one of his teeth crack, momentarily jostled.

A mechanical voice came on the loud speaker. "Helots are to move to the off ramp and take up arms. Group Leaders will be present to direct all helots. Blessings of the Unmaker God be upon thee."

The locked crash couches pinged and the restraints lifted above their heads. The other penal slaves all rose to their feet, at least all but a handful that had died -- one with a rather sickening snapped neck. They shuffled en masse to the rear and found the ramp lowering. Penal officers bearing red armbands from the Commissariat were already dividing them up into squads. They passed a station where they were handing out las rifles and ammunition.

"Take one of each, then move on," repeated the Prefect as he handed out weapons.

One such lasgun was pushed into Jacob's hands. He was bitter, as he saw that others were being given larger, crew-served weapons; even flamers! There was a loud cough and growl as engines roared and Jacob watched in amazement as Leman Russ tanks appeared, their hulls painted grey and the markings of the Penal Legions on them.

"Move along! Once you're in a squad, move up and march out! The Emperor's eyes are on you! Don't disappoint Him another time!"

One of the Commissariat prefects shot a trio of penal helots that had been momentarily bickering over who would get a flamer. The next helot in line grabbed the flamer and ran forward, stepping over the dead as if they were so much driftwood.

A column of infantry and tanks moved from their initial landing position to within two kilometers of the shielded settlement (Sar'Korren Overlook). Jacob looked at the mountains to either side, wishing that he could be anywhere but here. He was surprised when the column stopped and officers began ordering the men to dig in. A few of the tanks unloaded piles of Aegis shield lines; their prefab armored forms a welcome sight. It seemed that today would not be the day that Jacob died.

"Get to work and put up those defenses! The enemy will be here any time now!"

[Huerdae]

Sar'Korren Command, Iel'Hassan
Tan'Naus Frontier Sector, Huerdaen Domain

The response to the attack on Iel'Hassan was that of shock, and then grim determination as one would expect from the Huerdaen. Initial loss of contact with their patrol vessel had been met with surprise, but the following destruction of Ul'Ahhi in the north had left no question as to what was happening. The following bombardment and destruction of Ros'Vullen not far away had led many to prepare for evacuation, gathering up supplies and preparing for a journey to a spaceport, though no such exodus had begun. Without escorts, any escaping vessels would be easy prey to the large ship in orbit, which they were getting a clearer look at with every moment of retribution, waiting for the distress signal to bear fruit.

The planetary command post was, if nothing else, the best defended place on the planet. Dug into the heart of Sar'Korren, reinforced, shielded, and protected by the corporate militias of Suidochi and Kai'Kitalli, supported by Imperial Force and the numerous uncertain soldiers of the local militias. Without the Imperial Shield, their doctrinal purpose was to simply hold on, to keep the enemy out of the cities, and try to preserve the people fo the empire to the best of their ability. That had been a rather grim duty, as most expected yet another strike to wipe them out.

Less fortunate was that the KKI forces weren't even in Sar'Korren. Most of their forces were about as far from here as could be managed, sitting tight in Eni'Laagos, on the opposite side of the world. There, they had dug in hard and fast, activating that city's local Aegis shield to cover the location from further orbital strike, even as the two nearest cities began the long hardship of evacuation to its protection, though that never came near completion. Eni'Laagos was built to survive orbital strikes, thanks to the Aegis shields that belonged to KKI and a series of massive generators deep under the crust, but the nearby cities never had a chance to evacuate. Only a few people made the journey, from isolated homes and villages of a few dozen. The rest lay in tombs created by orbital fire. Sar'Korren didn't have the same protection, but they had a better chance than most. Their best option was slower to deploy, slower to recover, harder to protect, and not nearly as formidable. A series of the militia 'Naga' gun carriages were being deployed around the city, entrenching deep with militia units and Imperial Force to guard them, building up sandbag bunkers beside the beginnings of true reinforced bunkers, preparing fourteen locations in a long front that projected the much less-well-fortified Aegis barrier shield over top of the city, even the subterranean sections. It was anything but an ideal configuration, but the Aegis was much tougher than their normal shielding, and it was the only thing that was likely to buy the people of Sar'Korren time to escape should the enemy prepare an orbital strike.

Instead, the enemy had landed troops. Almost right on top of the city, at that. While defensive fire had taken down a handful of landers, they were still facing a veritable legion of enemies that had come down, numbering only a few thousand, but more seemed to be constantly on the way. With the defenses up, they couldn't even effectively shoot down the landers for fear of orbital retribution, so they sat and watched. It left a bad taste in Kaito's mouth, especially considering that every person in the room blamed him. They had gotten a look at the enemy now, barely two kilometers away, and the last fifteen minutes had been opening up Suidochi files and providing them to the local defense units, under the leadership of the black-bearded Master Mal'Rannig, the Force CO at Iel'Hassan.

He was a career Force man with thinning hair, having helped build up two colonies, and taken part in the reorganization at Foer after the second battle, a mess he had tried repeatedly to get out of. By all accounts, the situation there was hellish, at best, with several Bavinese or Kiith factions still doing intermittent sabotage and ambushing Force units. It was only a moderately-tamed warzone in the worst of the cities, though some areas, namely the economic centers, had begun finally going about peaceful life again. Iel'Hassan was supposed to be a nice place to retire. Instead, he was left standing in a room with four militia officers, the Lord and Lady of the Suidochi CorpMil, and the eccentric Captain Patya from the KKI CorpMil. Of them all, the four militias had the most numbers, but his Force and Suidochi were the meat of the defense.

The four militias were something of a crapshoot. In theory, they were an organized defense against any attack, but in practice, they operated as loosely organized gangs when enemies attacked. The most numerous, the Dirtborn, were mostly miners who worked in the depths at Sar'Korren, expanding the city and gathering the precious mineral wealth of Iel'Hassan. They were tough, numerous, and loud, but their discipline was lacking, and most didn't have weapons capable of fighting well on the surface. They carried mostly Hellfires or Akkis, ready to fight in the depths to repel enemies, and weren't of much use to anyone unless the enemy came to them. Luckily, they were numerous enough to have significant funding, so there were a number of vehicles in their ranks, not the least of which was the ever-so-precious Arashi.

The Harrowing militia was a different matter, and led by Commander James Malgarren. They were a softer group, much fewer in number, with some actually living on the surface, they even had some Ataster in their ranks. They lived and worked among the meager farms in the area, some down in the river valley below, but they favored long guns. A handful of Sirens modified for long range fire supported a large number of Myrmidons, and a maedar here and there. They sometimes would bring back dead animals to cook and prepare as food to supplement rations, a practice that a lot of others in the city found unsettling.

The Kishassi Armsmen was a group of better trained, better equipped, and under the sole jurisdiction of Landsknecht Emiya. It was barely two dozen men and women, all of whom had mercenary, militia, or Force experience, and had access to almost military-grade equipment, but they were sworn to the service of the Kishassi family, and there were political problems with trying to put them in harm's way if it wasn't done carefully. Moreover, they were unlikely to go into battle without Emiya Kishassi, and his loss would complicate matters immensely. Consisting of pankrees and a few Kitsune, they would have otherwise made a wonderful strike team, if only he could use them.

Last were the Sikissa Hunters. A motley bunch of aliens led by the frail-looking Landsknecht Vasshi Inakai Sikissa, they were angrier than he would have expected for their small build and almost 'cute' appearance. However, despite looking almost childlike with their wide eyes, they were vicious little monsters, and no mistake. Their teeth were naturally pointed like any predator's, and some were only partially augmented, as a very recent addition to the colony. However, they spent much of their time out above ground, and were fiercly loyal to each other, favoring large weapons. Almost all of them carried the Screech-variant sirens, but the fact there were only a few dozen made them a little less useful. Still, they were born with nearly-flawless night vision, and it would pay off when night came.

It was a pathetic band, all told. First planetfall of enemy troops was a little under half an hour ago, but now the enemy seemed to be digging in, so he was left with little choice. His own forces numbered about the same as the enemy at this time, but if they didn't begin their operations, they would quickly be outnumbered, even with the number of militia that were required to defend their homes. Most knew how to shoot and fight to an extent, but they weren't regular troops, and their discipline under fire, or performing combat maneuvers, was sorely lacking. They could, for all intents and purposes, defend a position, and little else.

Turning to Vasshi and Malgarren, he cleared his throat. "I need scouts out on the sands. James, get some of your people out on their farms. I need to know if there are any groups we don't know about. Don't engage, just watch. Keep in mind they're not animals, they'll probably try to catch or capture you. It sounds like they've already done that to one of our own. Vasshi, prepare a team and rest up. Malgarren's people may find something we have to deal with, and if we send you out at night you have a good chance of at least slowing them down."

He turned to the Suidochi commanders, who seemed to be purposefully ignoring each other. "I need the Suidochi CorpMil on the line, on the nearest five Naga stations. If they get hit, you guys are the meat. I'm going to seed Force in on all of the others. KKI CorpMil will be in charge of running the Nagas, so you damn well better protect them. We'll keep the Dirtborn in reserve for a counter-attack, so load up your weapons, and gear up the Arashis. They're our only good mobile response to enemy armor at this time. Roll them out of the garage carefully."

He continued, glaring at Nor. "Knowing your people started this, you get to put everything in right away. I need your artillery, and I know you have some. Get it set up at your office, up on the overlook. We can't fire indirectly because of the Aegis shields up high, but that should have a commanding view of their position. Start aiming for anything that looks valuable. You have to limit their armored capabilities."

The two Suidiochi officers looked less than pleased, but as the group was dismissed, he simply sighed. Of course things would start off badly. Of course the enemy would mass for an attack right away, but what did they want?

They had sent a volunteer out to talk, but he'd barely gotten out of the city before the enemy opened fire, putting an end to that thought. They merely needed to hold.

Sar'Korren Overlook, Iel'Hassan
Tan'Naus Frontier Sector, Huerdaen Domain

Lady Nor'Tallun had always been better with overall command, so Kaito had made his way to the forward post, It was her job, instead, to emplace and prepare the eight Desecrator guns they had available. They could be fired indirectly, if not for the hard shield projected over their heads, barely a few hundred meters. All the Nagas were below, meaning there wasn't much cieling over her head before that shield. An unlucky shot, or careless act would bring it right back to them. Still, there was work to be done. Moving to each gun as it was set up, barely able to fire over the embankments, she spared a glance over the fortifications to where she could see the rest of the CorpMil finishing their work around the Naga positions, where they were dug down out of sight in gulleys and valleys between the dunes, the big trucks looking unarmored and naked. Only six Naga in the city were armed, but four were geared for anti-aircraft and anti-missile fire, of little use beneath the low Aegis. The other two were headed out the back of the base, bringing their two desecrators further away in hopes of finding a position they could take long-distance shots at the flanks of enemy armor from dug in positions. The crews were hesitant at best, and she guessed they wouldn't be long out there, for fear of enemy reprisal. Turning to her gun crews, she gave her orders.

"You six, target and eliminate enemy armor. From what we can tell that stuff is tough, but these guns are no joke. At most, a few hits should bring them down, but for most one or two hits should put an end to their tanks, and a hit on the side or rear should almost certainly kill it. You two guns on the flanks, put some fire out over the enemy fortifications. Use the incendiaries, and blood rayne. I want to see incendiary clouds and firestorms out there. Don't let them use those earthworks, force them back, and keep forcing them back. They don't appear to have set up energy shields, so this should be enough to slow their infantry significantly."

At the affirmatives, she crouched against the earthworks, mounting up her periscope to watch the effectiveness and determine if any changes needed to be made. Taking a long, slow breath to steady her nerves, she breathed out slowly, and gave the order. "Commence firing."

At 37 minutes past initial touchdown, the Huerdaen field guns on the overlook opened fire, sending streaks of fire through the air as the outer coating of the rounds burned off from the mere friction against the air as the report of the railguns cracked out their sonic booms. She could only hope the enemy was as poorly prepared as they seemed for a ground conflict.

[Khandosia]

Improvied Field Works Before Sar'Korren City


Artillery began to rain down among them. Each of the collared penal soldiers shuddered as they huddle in the dirt behind the reinforced metal plates of the aegis shield lines. The barrage had started a few moments before, scattered and seemingly of little effect -- but that was changing quickly. The battalion of armored tanks that had come down with the helot infantry spread out, taking their directions from the taskmasters that wore the red robes of the Martian Priesthood; each one a veteran Skitarii who had been assigned duty to act as overseers of the helots. Jacob didn't think any of them liked their job, as was exemplified by the hunched, angered body language being obviously displayed by Tri-Axlon-99.

"Rise! Rise! All you flesh-bag helots, rise to your feet!" Tri-Axlon-99 roared through an augmitter box attached to his shoulder by two bolts. His voice was rough and sounded as if heard from along a long corridor. "In the name of the Unmaker God, in the name of the Omnissiah, advance!"

The Skitarii overseer shot one of the helots in the back of the skull, a white-blue bolt from an unusually designed pistol.

"Advance!"

The threat of violence was ample enough. To stay where they were would be death anyway, Jacob thought, as the enemy artillery began to zero in on their fixed position. Advancing would allow them to get inside the artillery envelope...perhaps even live a little longer.

Breathe. Breathe. Run. Breathe. Breathe. Run. The voice in Jacob's head repeated the mantra as he scrambled over the aegis defense line.

All along the line the slave helots rushed forwards. Some men and women were yelling, screaming in a panicked fury - split between wide ranging emotions of fear, anger, and hope. How poisonous, that hope. How fickle.

The roar of Leman Russ Battle Tank engines revving could be heard above the din of battle. The click-clack pattern of metal tracks twisting on their axles was like a steady tattoo. Jacob glanced to his right and saw a trio of the armored behemoths driving past. One was armed with a short barrel Devastator Cannon, whereas the other two were standard pattern battle cannon. The longer ranged cannon roared, sending shells hurtling forward against the shielded settlement that they were advancing against. The air-shattering booms hit Jacob's ears, causing him to grimace in pain and almost lose his footing as he ran. A few helots were knocked down, disoriented by being too close to the tanks and their continuous cannon firing.

Jacob watched another helot, a woman, fall face first to the ground with a cry of pain. Before she could rise, two other helots had already stepped upon her back, body, and head. Jacob ran past, focusing ahead.


Breathe. Breathe. Run.


He adjusted his las rifle in his hands, trying to get a better grip on it. It felt heavy in his hands, a slightly older model of weapon than the one he had trained with when he had joined the planetary defense force militia several years before. He nearly dropped it when another helot next to him fell sideways when a nearby battle cannon roared yet again. Jacob shoved the man back, fury and fear driving him. He didn't want to lose his footing just because another person couldn't keep up the advance.

Just when they were about a kilometer or so from the city they began to take direct enemy fire. Large caliber rounds whipped through the shield like raindrops falling in reverse -- ripples of energy distorting the view of the xenos city as the enemy within fired at the enemy without. Helots unfortunate to be hit were blown apart, bloody pulps of flesh that scattered and painted their neighbors. One Leman Russ tank was hit in the forward track, causing it to suddenly slew sideways, turning involuntarily into a tight circle. A dozen or more helots were crushed beneath the tank before it rammed and clipped the rear of another passing Leman Russ.


Run. Breathe. Run. Breathe.



Several Dozen Kilometers Away | Mountain Arm Above Sar'Korren


Ordinator Prefect Lucullus-Ohm sighted once more along the magnoculars that were gripped by the mechadendrites that curled up from under his silver-trimmed red robes. He watched the massed helots advance into the teeth of oncoming enemy fire from the city. Enemy weapon emplacements were sighted along the city edge, and at least a dozen concentrated at the entrance gate to the settlement.

<Autocannon analogs detected> canted Ordinator Sub-Prefect Ru-Valens. <Theoretical: the enemy do not possess power direct fire weapons. Their heaviest weapons are the artillery pieces taking up position atop the settlement.>

<I am inclined to accept your theoretical, Ru-Valens.> Lucullus-Ohm replied. He blurted a noospheric equivalent of a 'thumbs up', a gesture popular among the Imperial Guard regiments that Lucullus-Ohm and his Ordinatus team had served alongside in the past.

<The shield projector location has been isolated?> Lucullus-Ohm queried.

<Auspex scans have isolated the target. Additional: I approve of the design template aesthetic of this settlement. The symmetry is pleasing.> Ru-Valens canted back.

<I will enjoy destroying it. Deus Omnis. Thus shall we invoke the blessed destruction of the Umaker God. Thus shall we sunder than which was once whole,> delcared Lucullus-Ohm.

The pair turned and stepped back into the shadow of the Ordinatus Minoris war machine known as the Ordinatus Sagittar. The war machine was easily the size of three Land Raiders laid back to front. Within it's specially designed framework of weight compensating repulsor fields was the gargantuan Belicosa-pattern Volcano Pattern. This was the sort of weaponry usually carried by the great god-machines of the Titan Legions. Only the great battleships of the void carried weapons heavier.

Lucullus-Ohm had attached his cohort of the Centurio Ordinatus to the Ordo Reductor Covenent of Magos Dominus Xerxech more than seventy-three Terran standard years before. He had been attracted by the opportunities that the Magos Dominus offered -- more chances to test out more potent weaponry and improvements to the Ordinatus war machines that he had within his cohort and at his command. He'd refused the bid of two separate forge masters and one from the Skitarii Legions in order to accept Xerxech's offer. In the seventy-three years since he had first accepted and joined, he had never once felt that odd, human emotion of disappointment.

Stepping into the command cabin of the Ordinatus Sagittar Oblitus Rex was like a deep sea diver reaching the surface after nearly dying from lack of oxygen. The room was, to augmented eyes, awash with the noosphere. Code rippled through the air like schools of fish, passing between cogitators, servitors, and minor savant tech-priests.

The Ordinator Prefect slipped into his command seat. His mechadendrites slithered and moved, almost by their own will, and connected him via a hard-plug connection to the Ordinatus Sagittar -- this particular machine of war known by it's ancient forge-name, Conscreor Securis. Connecting to the machine spirit of Conscreor Securis was a perfunctionary act, but one which sent electrical stimuli up and down Lucullus-Ohm's spine; as close to physical pleasure as he ever enjoyed these days.

<Activation Sequence Primaris Primus...activate> canted Lucullus-Ohm.

The generators of the Conscreor Securis flared, a steady tempo rising that mirrored the beating of a flesh heart. Heat levels and other data flowed through the noosphere, alerting the crew to how the full activation sequence was proceeding. Now that weapon platform's commander was in his proper place, it's engines prepped, Lucullus-Ohm could feel the roaring fury of the machine spirit rising, expecting, desiring...destruction, devastation, and war. For a moment he fought to maintain his own sense of self, fighting against the rising tide of Conscreor Securis, it's ancient and hallowed machine spirit no match for weak-willed men.

<Activation complete> chimed a servitor.

<Praise the Omnissiah. Praise the Unmaker God,> cried the lesser tech-priests in discordant-metal voices that rose in harmony.

<Praise be.> murmurred Lucullus-Ohm.

He fell deeper into the noosphere, deeper into the machine-spirit and being that was Conscreor Securis. He saw through the machine's augurs, sublimating himself until he forgot all sense of physicality besides the heat of Conscreor Securis's reactor and the burning desire to unleash it. The city before him came up in sharp relief, he saw heat signals, motion-capture sequences, and numerous other methods for detecting the enemy. What was most important was the shield being generated over the enemy's city...it didn't quite cover the entirety of the settlement.

<Four...correction, five foci located,> the canted voice of Ru-Valens, coming through the void of the noosphere almost like a whisper.

<Targeting matrix complete. First target identified. Range...33.890 kilometers.>

The titan walker-like weapon of the Conscreor Securis rose on it's platform, actuators moving and pistons firing as it changed position slightly.

<Confirm reactor output> ordered Lucullus-Ohm.

<Reactor output at 96.409% and holding> replied one tech-priest.

Lucullus-Ohm would have smiled if his face still had the flesh and muscles capable of such.

<Fire.>


Lightning played across the capacitors and targeting panes of the Conscreor Securis and a seemingly innocuous but flaring light rose through the weapon's primary chamber. The primary weapon was a volcano destructor cannon, a weapon of rare and arcane power that had been sanctified upon holy Mars more than eight millennia before. A blue-white beam of eye-blinding intensity erupted with a wail, as the very air protested the interruption.

The beam cut through everything in it's path. Usually meant for battling against the god-machine Titans and other great fortifications, one might have thought it's use here to be excessive; but there was no such excess when it came to unleashing destruction in the name of the Unmaker God. The beam cut under the flaring of the enemy's shield, pierce through metal, rock, and flesh -- until it found it's target.

The Huerdaen shield generator was mounted in the back of a simple lorry, able to be moved at need and small in comparison to what the Mechanicus would have likely used. None of it's crew or civilians that were gathered around it had time to react before the white-blue beam cut through the center of the vehicle and radiant-sun-like heat washed over and destroyed everything within the vacinity.


<Target one confirmed destroyed,> canted one of the weapon servitors.

<Targeting second objective...targeting matrix complete. Range...34.281 kilometers.>

<Firing.>


Within a few short minutes the Huerdaen shield covering the settlement was gone. Five glowing-red holes of destruction cut through the block-like architecture were the only evidence left for how that had been accomplished. The loss of their shield did not however alter the amount of firepower being laid against the oncoming helots.

Hundreds were dying. Hundreds more kept charging. Tanks trundled forward, battle cannons roaring. They would try taking the gateway no matter the cost. After all, they had no choice.

Above, the false star of the Ramanujan hung in the heavens like a patient killer, it's weapons charged, poised, and ready.



Ramanujan | High Orbit


Data streamed through the noospheric receptors, cleansed, compiled, and sifted by countless cogitators before it reached the Magos Dominus Xerxech. Within the bowels of his glorified vessel, behind thrice-encoded matrices of steel and ceramite doors, Magos Dominus Xerxech was in his element. His physical body was locked within a personally designed Mind Impulse Unit, a system usually designed to link a Princeps of the Legio Titanicus to their god-machines. But this MIU was different, utilizing designs that Xerxech himself had formulated during the early years of his apprenticeship as a Magos Minoris. It was partly this engram-symbiot program that had originally attracted the hallowed senior priests of the Unmaker God to Xerxech; coaching him and guiding him down the eventual path of becoming an acolyte of the Ordo Reductor. Through this MIU and his ESP the amount of raw data he was capable of absorbing and processing was titanic. His normal cognitive systems would have melted down within minutes.

But now he felt like an ancient destroyer god of ancient Terran myth -- wielding the lance batteries of the Ramanujan the way one might sling lightning bolts, smashing and destroying the heretics and unbelievers.

++Cortex Stream 1-1A: Praise be to the Omnissiah and His aspect within the universe as the Unmaker God. Praise Him.++

Xerxech saw through the eyes of his servants. The motive force would swing between adequately augmented members of the combat forces down below -- a skitarii officer here, a magos there, or via the cold eyes of a weapon servitor -- giving Xerxech the eyes he desired to see with. Those so chosen would pause momentarily as they lost all individuality and were subsumed by the presence of the empowered Magos Dominus. It was considered by nearly all, especially among the Skitarii contingents, to be an honor and a blessing to be so touched by the Will of the Machine.

He watched the simple shields above Kar'Sorren fall, pleased by the efficiency of the Conscreor Securis. The crew of the ordinatus were equally pleased, as they had a right to be. Seeing the shield down, one of the Magos Dominus' many conscious streams sent a command via the noospheric link to the command deck of the Ramanujan. He had been looking forward to unleashing his cohorts.

Xerxech stretched out through the sensors of the Ark Mechanicus Ramanujan and saw that there was one other settlement that was left besides the one currently under assault by his helots. This one was protected by a much stronger shield.

++Cortex Stream 3-1B: A promising target.++

++Cortex Stream 2-2A: Agreement. This settlement is ideal for judging the competency of their true shields.++

++Cortex Steam 2-3B: Compliance. Targeting matrix confirmed. Solution made.++


The last, shielded settlement that was yet to face any threat from the ground or air was truly isolated. It's shields flickered and shone in the false dawn that fell. Lance batteries unleashed a barrage of blinding light. Some impacted, while a larger majority were being reflected at various degrees. It was almost akin to a fanciful light-show, as children on Old Terra might have once enjoyed. Interested in the destructive experiment being done, Magos Dominus Xerxech added the bombard cannon batteries to the fusillade being unleashed against Eni'Laagos. Time passed and was recorded.

[Huerdae]

Sar'Korren Command, Iel'Hassan
Tan'Naus Frontier Sector, Huerdaen Domain

The enemy 'charge' seemed little more than a frantic surge forward, with most of the troops running at them in general disarray. Armored vehicles toughened up the charge, but their firing on the move impacted against the base shield with little effect, while the heavy Desecrator guns blasted holes in the running groups of barely-equipped men and women. It was sickening, to watch them upon the field as they ran, turning into smears as their own command seemed to have little to no regard for their safety or well-being. It was a type of attack the Huerdaen had faced in the past, but Mal'Rannig had never seen it in person, and it turned his stomach. Blood slicked the open ground past the defenses as autocannons annihilated the attackers with abandon. It looked almost like the entire attack would be pointless, blown apart before it truly began.

Of course, that would probably be followed by orbital fire, with a grim reminder to the northeast still burning just over the horizon, a glow which had only barely diminished even this long after the strike. The defenses were barely being tested when a white-hot lance tore across his vision, blinding him for a moment before his cybernetics accounted for it, revealing a blast that had dug straight into the heart of the facility, and a gaping hole in the Aegis barriers above. Frantically, he grabbed up his radio for a report, but barely a moment had passed before a second shot put another hole through the cityscape, and another matching hole in the protection above. Panic and surprise filled the comms, as the teams manning the Aegis barriers abandoned them, even as one after another fell to the unexpected threat.

With their attention on the landed troops, they had missed the landing of the dangerous weapon, a mistake that they were rectifying too late. The defensive teams were still reeling as the first tank rolled through the shield barrier, with the edge sparking and hissing against the hull harmlessly. A moment later, the vehicle fired, and a blast sent black metal flying as it blew apart some of the ablative armor across the base, only to have return fire match it. It brought its gun around to target one of the gun positions, but a deafening crack filled the air.

The front was torn wide open, with shards of white-hot metal spilling out the exit wound from the shot on the back, as almost the entire insides of the battle tank had turned to slag. After a second shot on another approaching tank, the Arashi had been revealed. Low, wide, with no turret and concealed partly behind an outcropping of the base, the large railgun slowly traversed toward a new target. Across the line, however, others began to open fire as well, piercing through the battle tanks as if they were little more than wet paper.

It was then that the true barbarism of the assault was revealed to the Huerdaen, as the Khandosian line faltered, and their own officers began executing those who did not continue the advance. One of Mal'Rannig's staff nearby puked onto the floor, watching it happen, but most grimly continued their duties, aware that this barbarism could be their fate if they failed to hold the line. Defenses were redoubled, as the gaping holes in the base defenses were shored up and positions were taken where possible.

But the enemy's advance continued in one sector, down a small gulley that made them particularly difficult targets for most of the Arashi's, except for one that was covering that path. Mal'Rannig watched and waited for the shots, as more and more of the enemy poured into what seemed to be little more than a slight ditch, following in behind the tanks as fire intensified on the base around him.

Enemy small arms popped and ricocheted across the armored skin of city-base, even as their own artillery pieces dropped explosives into the path, turning dozens of soldiers into a flow of blood and viscera that tangled in the feet of those who still fought their way forward, using the still-moving tanks for cover.

Suddenly, an Arashi took a shot from well out of position, firing across the battlefield at the distant target of whatever weapon had destroyed their generators. With only long enough to reload, another shot rang out, and then another. Four shots rang out in total before enemy fire forced the thing to back away, and Mal'Rannig screamed into his comms at the commander.

"Ar'Korrus, what is your bitch-ass doing!?"

"I'm trying to win the battle, you blind idiot! You think we can win if that thing keeps firing?" was her hot-headed retort, almost lost in the gunfire.

"You think we'll win if they can keep pushing your lane? You won't make it back to cover with them this close, now!"

"Whatever. I'm pretty sure we hit it once. Maybe twice. That thing was shielded like an Ataster virgin on prom night, but Big Hands here got to secon-"

The transmission ended abruptly, as an enemy fighter-bomber swooped low, laser weaponry and heavy tank-killing missiles streaking at a target out of his sight, followed by the slow, billowing black smoke that marked what was likely the brash woman's grave, as well as her brave crew.

Snarling, he turned back to the squawker. "Kaito, you better have good news for me."

The response was refreshingly professional from the Ex-Shield CorpMil officer. His voice was steady, if not exactly calm. "We're already on it. Shifted one of the Nagas around the side of the base to target the exit point, they can't get much further. And I rolled up my fat ASS to cover it, so they can't pick it off. Last-line, we put up a dual-Hades field gun watching the cross before they can hit that hole they blew in the line, and there are militiamen at the breach. If nothing else, it'll be a fight."

Behind him, almost forgotten, a local comms officer spoke up, his voice excited. "Master Mal'Rannig! Sir! Confirmation from Sector command. Shield and ISN units are mobilizing. ETA to be provided soon. The size of that beast in orbit is slowing down ISN forces because it's unexpected, but light Shield units should start making planetfall by morning."

Suddenly, the grim weight of his people's doom seemed to lighten, and Mal'Rannig put a hand to his beard, considering the task of lasting until sunrise first and foremost as he straightened the well-groomed hair. "Morning, then. We hold until morning. Let the unit commanders know."

[Khandosia]

Frontal Assault on Sar'Korren


Jacob was alive. Truthfully he could hardly believe it, however the pain in his lungs as he sucked in desperate gasps of air reminded him every few seconds. His heart was pounding furiously as it worked to keep his limbs filled with oxygenated blood. The lasgun felt heavy in his hands, his fingers sore from where he had been gripping it too tight.

He shuddered to a halt against the metallic side of the city. Some strange laser weapon of the Mechanicus had fired over their heads and pierced through the city's wall. A large, Chimera-sized hole had been ripped out -- but it was about ten feet up, not easy to reach for an infantryman.

As if the thought summoned up a solution one of the Leman Russ tank, a Demolisher, turned it's turret and fired it's siege cannon at point-blank range.

It targeted the weakened section of the wall and was rewarded for it's effort. A wider gap opened, low enough that both the tanks and infantry could push through. This new entrance was left of the actual city's entryway, by about a hundred meters, but it seemed to be enough for the Skitarii officers accompanying them. "Move into the gap! Take the outer defenses from within!" they cried out, electro-mauls flashing with power as they directed the helots physically as well as verbally.

Jacob didn't have a choice. He advanced.

He had a moment to come around a bit of wreckage when he saw a long barrel pointing out. That's not good.

The air seemed to be sucked in and then whooshed out, causing Jacob's ears to pop. There was an almost small click-clack-smack sound as whatever had been fired from the barrel hit the Demolisher tank, pierced it's armor, and blew out the back through it's engine. The Demolisher exploded. A few helots that had unfortunately been too close were taken with it, flash-burned or simply blown to bloody pulp.

Jacob dived away from the enemy weapon as it became visible, an enemy tank of some kind but with no turret. It swiveled on it's tracked and fired another round, repeating the grizzly scene that had just happened. Another Leman Russ tank was destroyed. Concentrated fire began to focus on this extreme threat. Helots swarmed into whatever cover they could take, firing away with their lasguns at whatever the Skitarii officers were directing them at en masse. The tanks, their numbers reduced, were taking evasive, erratic movement patterns and finding blind spots in the threat-profile of the enemy tank's rail weapon.

One of the enemy tanks seemed to suddenly focus on something else, as if distracted. In quick succession it fired. One, two, three -- four shots.

One of the Skitarii officers nearest Jacob suddenly let loose a mechanical scream of anger. "Everything! Fire! Take down that armored vehicle! Kill it!"

A Lightning strike fighter from the Ramanujan appeared as if summoned, unleashing a torrent of las cannon and missile fire. The enemy vehicle blew up in a cascade of melting armor and crippling explosions.

"Into the gap!"

A squad of helots rushed up from their cover near the gap and rushed through it. A large boulevard lay beyond the wall, with bunkers and buildings at various points all around forming a sheer wall ahead. The group didn't live long before a crack-whip bbbbrrrrrrtttt ripped through the air. Lightning fast hard rounds whipped through the air and cut the helots down mercilessly. They didn't even have time to scream, their bodies simply turning to puffs of blood and chunks of flesh that scattered about.

It was like walking into an murderous alleyway.

A Leman Russ Punisher moved into the gap and angled it's armored hull. As it's turret tracked around to the right, aiming toward the source of this enemy fire, it was pinged and pitted by the enemy's fire. Ricochets from the angled armor of the Punisher vectored backwards and into those helots that were waiting to advance behind the tank.

The Punisher fired, it's own cannon whirling and unleashing a tearing bbbbrrrrtttt of sound. It's hull-based lascannon unleashed it's destructive power, lancing forward. There was a number of loud popping sounds and a muffled explosion.

Whatever had been firing had obviously been taken out. Before the helots and crew of the Punisher could celebrate however, a louder, throatier booming fire echoed and large calibre rounds punched through the exposed rear of the Punisher. Even with it's hull angled, it was angled in the wrong direction. Large rounds that were usually meant for eradicating fast-moving aerial targets sliced into the engine of the Punisher and a fire started. Within moments the crew bailing out and trying to flee. The tank's ammunition store cooked off and exploded. The turret corkscrewed off into the air and fell with a crash.

A Skitarii officer cursed in lingua-technis and waved his shock-maul like an Arbites officer directing traffic.

Another Leman Russ, this time a battle tank, moved up and maneuvered around the dead hull of the Punisher, pushing it aside slightly as it did so. Enemy autocannon fire spattered across it's hull, but the battle tank was able to shrug off the majority of it. It's turret tracked and found the source of the enemy fire -- an air-defense gun tank of some sort -- and returned fire with a high-explosive anti-tank shell. The shell buried itself through the armor hull and exploded within the AA tank.

Helots rushed forwards, driven on by their Skitarii overseers, and spreading out in both directions. Jacob went with a few, having no other option.

As they advanced local enemy infantry appeared in windows, armored firing slits, and any vantage point that they could take. Their weaponry was fit for close-quarter firefights, automatic fire with good accuracy and discipline. For every enemy infantryman that the helots were able to successfully target and kill, another two or three of them were killed first.

Whenever they turned a corner, finally making progress, they found a wide ramp leading to a higher level of the labyrinthine-like city. Here too, defenders waited at the lip of the ramps and fired from good cover. Automated guns, autocannons and others, would occasionally appear as well -- coordinated by the defenders with their infantry. Each such time it required one of the few remaining Leman Russ tanks to push up and blast away with it's heavy cannon or weapon, clearing the obstacles for a short while.

Progress was slow.

* * * * * * *

Several Dozen Kilometers Away | Mountain Arm Above Sar'Korren

Ordinator Prefect Lucullus-Ohm swore loudly and vividly as a high-velocity rail weapon round impacted against the void shields of the Conscreor Securis. The fact that the enemy had a vehicular-mounted weapon system capable of targeting them at this range, with such accuracy, was astounding to the Prefect.

<"What's the integrity level of the voids?"> canted Lucullus-Ohm.

<Primary void shield reduced to 47.887% integrity,> intoned a servitor that was hard-plugged into it's station.

<Get it back--,>

Lucullus-Ohm's blurt of canted lingua technis was overridden as a second round impacted.

This time warning klaxons blared and a red light washed over the interior of the crew compartment of the Ordinatus. Lucullus-Ohm reached out through his haptic links to the machine, overriding the normal CnC functions that existed. The servitor's machine spirit blurted a moments protest before Lucullus'-Ohm bullied it into silence with superior command override codes within the noosphere.

The auspex had analyzed the attack vector and it's nature. The rail weapon round that had impacted against them was not a normal one -- this one had eaten through the shield with animosity. It took only a moment before be realized what had happened in full. Their main void was down due to a shield-breaker round. In a clinical fashion, Lucullus-Ohm found it interesting. In an immediate fashion, he found it frightening.

A third round hit. The secondary void shields, weaker than the primary, failed.

<We are taking significant damage,> canted Ordinator Sub-Prefect Ru-Valens. <We're down to tertiary voids and the capacitors for the secondary have overheated.>

<Primary void capacitors are still loading. We won't get them back online for another six minutes,> canted another adept of the crew.

<Move! Get us out of here!> canted Luculls-Ohm with every emphatic noospheric code he knew. He blurted a signal to any Skitarii officers on the field of battle around the city, demanding they deal with the threat at once.

The Conscreor Securis rumbled backwards. The movement was what saved it.

A fourth round impacted and tore through the tertiary shields of the Ordinatus Sagittar. The rail weapon round continued on it's directed path, scraping along the hull of the machine's armored cupola. A secondary weapon system, a side sponson that carried a weapon designed for killing lesser vehicles and infantry that might try to swarm the ordinatus, was ripped from the side of the Conscreor Securis. The lesser menial adept that had been manning it was sucked outside through a small hole that had been pierced through. The force of being pulled through such a small hole was messy...and incomplete. The menial was only half-way pulled through the gap.

Oil and blood mixed in a messy spray of fluid that coated some of the nearby servitors.

"That's rather off-putting," said Ru-Valens in his flesh voice.



Ramanujan | High Orbit


Part of Magos Dominus Xerxech's divided intellect gave the order that many aboard the Ark Mechanicus had been awaiting, many impatiently. Few aboard the Ramanujan were not part of the Ordo Reductor -- their augmented beings suffused by the electrical desire to unleash a plethora of destructive weapon on a worthy foe. Such was the case of the Thallaxi Cohort.

A large portion of the Ramanujan's underside shifted, titanic armored plates shifting in succession like the scales of a snake. A large docking lane appeared, fully a sixth of the length of the mighty vessel itself. Lining the undercarriage within this dock were drop pods. They hung grouped together like insect eggs, their armored hulls painted red and bearing the techno-heraldry of the Taghmata Omnissiah: a grinning servo-skull bisected by crossed cog-axes. There were hundreds of them.

Red lights flashed and warning klaxons wailed and they launched in serried succession. With it's protective energy shield down, the city of Sar'Korren was exposed; a ripe fruit ready for the picking.

* * * * * * *

The drop pods were not sent down at random. Specific designated targets had been picked out. The focal point of local command and control had been identified through the amount of comm traffic. Key tactical locals had been identified for helping to take and divide enemy movement through the city's thoroughfares. Depots, barracks, and the remaining large-scale defensive emplacements. They were all targeted.

The pods fell on fiery trails, faster than most AA systems were capable of handling. A dozen or more of the drop pods were destroyed in their flight paths however, their maneuvering jets not quite enough to be skillfully directed out of enemy fire.

Each slammed down on retroactive bursts of flame. Hammering blows that rang through the air with atmospheric entry booms.

The drop pods opened up like a flower opens its petals -- that was the poetic remark that one remembrancer had once said, when watching a pict-cast of them. These thudded down after their door clamps were unleashed. Metal slamming down against metal and stone.

From within the darkened depths of each pod stepped ten armored, towering figures of metal and death.

Thallax Cohort warriors were some of the best designed and elite shock troops of the Adeptus Mechanicus. They were not automatons, nor were they servitors. The Thallax were a special breed. Encased within the armored shell that was the Lorica Thallax was the spinal threads, brain, and eyes of a human. Each was the last tomb of a Skitarii or chosen warrior, their vitae and nervous system implanted within the machine to act as it's guiding spirit and in turn given directives for the making of war. The process of turning a human into a Thallax was, it was said, excruciating in the extreme. The necessary mutilation of the flesh and binding of that to the machine was a delicate process. One in three survived the process, if overseen by the most skilled of Biologis and Cybernetica adepts.

Ten of the Thallax warriors surrounded the armored compound that had been identified as the enemy's command and control center. The drop pod had come down less than a dozen meters away from the entrance, scattering a few vehicles and personnel that had been outside, unaware that their enemy would be able to touch them here.

Sigma-99 ran through it's threat protocols. Pain suppressants helped to focus him as his augmented djinn-sight mapped the surroundings, a purple light liming the figures of many humans around. He blurted a micro-cant of binaric at his squad. They dispersed into groups of three, fire-teams, with Sigma-99 leading one towards the door.

He lifted the weapon limb that was his left arm, the motors purring with the movement, and aimed the multi-melta that was attached there. His djinn-sight knew that there was one man directly behind the door, perhaps looking out, and four others around the entryway preparing for them. The blast from the multi-melta melted the armored door in moments and flash-cooked the man directly behind it to ashes. Those enemy soldiers that had been looking at the door when it happened had their retina burned out and were blinded; though the pain of their flesh being subjected to instant third-degree burns probably meant that they didn't notice going blind.

The lead fire-team Thallaxi ducked through the entrance, awkwardly. Small arms fire erupted and pinged harmlessly off his armor. These enemies had never encountered the Thallax before and so knew none of the potential weaknesses that they possessed. Sigma-99 appreciated this as he followed his fellow into the bunker. The lead Thallaxi wielded a power claw, lunging forward with surprising speed and agility to grasp the throat of another enemy soldier and cutting off the head with one small twist of the mechanical wrist.

A uniformed officer stood next to another man that sat at a communications console. Sigma-99 took a moment to record the officer's visage and other data gleaned from his auspex and djinn-sight.

The man opened his mouth to say something.

Sigma-99 fired his multi-melta.

The man and the communications specialist behind him were obliterated, luckily feeling only a micro-second of pain before being turned to so much ash. The cogitators and other machines around the bunker were destroyed. Another of the fire-team entered and leveled a multi-laser, blasting a stream of energy bolts into the machinery and destroying everything. Their mission profile had said to destroy this place and so they would.

* * * * * * *

The Thallax Cohort moved systematically throughout the city. Their djinn-sight allowed them to see their enemies before their enemies could see them, or at least to deflect possible traps that they might try to enact against the invading Thallaxi. Using their jump packs, the Thallax elite were able to maneuver around the box-like city, avoiding the prepared killing lanes that the locals had created -- likely expecting only more of the assaulting helots. Striking down from above, in the air, and moving through the city like armored scarabs picking clean a corpse, the Thallax were a terror to behold.

[Huerdae]

Sar'Korren Interior, Iel'Hassan
Tan'Naus Frontier Sector, Huerdaen Domain

The fall of the outer defenses had come with an unexpected rapidity. Kaito and the nearby squads, near the front entrance, had suddenly found themselves cut off in front of the slowly failing defenses, as the enemy breached the outer line. All communication from the command post was cut off, and the smoke and fire rising from that part of the black-steel mass told enough for the veteran to take charge. It had been only moments before that spirits had been rising with news that the Shield would be arriving in the morning, but now militia were scattering out of their defensive positions, heading into the wilderness where they had to, or back into the city depths. There, they found little respite.

They had fallen back into the main entrance almost immediately, to find that the guards there were standing about in confusion, unsure of what to do. His orders went out, and their responses slowly quickened as they began to get used to the new, local commander. Charges were set on the weapons, and ammo dumps were destroyed. There was a main road around the edge of the city's interior, that allowed mining and other mineral resources to reach the outbound rail lines, and the enemy had been abusing it. Wherever the Huerdaen had set up to try to contain them, these enemies used the uncharacteristically open area to fall upon them. Without significant heavy weapons, they were being taken apart with precision. As soon as the guns and supplies were destroyed, he ushered his slowly growing group further into the city, heading toward the habitation zones and commercial sector. Abandoning completely the larger modules of the industrial sectors, they quickly made their way into the 7' by 7' labrynthine halls of Sar'Korren.

Here, the militia were even less organized, but he was able to organize them at a chokepoint, gathering information and settling in. It was there that he realized his original two platoons had swelled to almost a full company now, from fifty to just shy of a hundred and twenty fighters, clustered behind one of the gun positions on the ramps, two levels below the planet's crust. On all sides, the ramps sloped up toward them, with the ceilings of those ramps stepped to make grenade throws almost impossible. The stunned and scared militia huddled together, while CorpMil stared into space, trying to come to terms with what was happening, even as he contacted the local Force garrison. The voice which met him was calm, confident even. She seemed completely unaware of what was happening.

"Commander Asani here. How can I help you, Lord Kaito?"

The tone alone reminded him why the Force were enforcers, and not soldiers, and his ire was clear in his voice. "We have people dying at the outer defenses, where is the Force response?"

"We're waiting for orders, sir. Mal'Rannig-"

"IS DEAD. We need you to counter-strike the enemy on exposed positions. The Industrial ring has fallen, enemy heavy infantry force of some kind outmaneuvered us. Mount up, roll out NOW. If we want to hold, we have to get inside the residential districts and center around the Civilian armory and Force headquarters! Get orders out to the other units!"

Her response was cut off as the Hephaestus at his gun position suddenly started firing, and the heavy thunder of the rounds slamming into the plating down below. It was impossible to tell from where he was what they were firing at, but if the enemy had already made it here, they were already a third of the way into the city, and the Huerdaen defenses were already in disarray. A quick glance at the comms indicated the woman had signed off, and he merely hoped that they were following orders.

The firing stopped for a moment as the team loaded another magazine of large rounds into the autocannon, as a heavy thud sounded nearby, followed by panicked yelling as the stepped cieling blocked a grenade throw aimed to lob it up into the gun position. Instead, it hit the flat roof, bouncing down to the ramp, which rolled it right back to the thrower. The blast was followed by the screams of a dozen men and women, but it was the heavy footsteps coming down the other path that drew his attention, and he threw himself at the barricade, clutching the Maedar to his chest as the first of the Thallax Cohort appeared, armored legs stomping into view and bouncing away the lighter fire from the hellfire SMGs and an Akki loaded with shot.

The big autocannon was still turning when its arm, and the heavy weapon it carried, appeared, and only then did he rise, bringing the heavy rifle to bear. Squeezing the trigger, even the maedar's armor-piercing rounds found little take on the thing's hide, but careful aim and the steadiness afforded him by actual powered armor allowed him to break the rounds through, dropping the machine to the floor with the head-casing torn open.

Two more followed, and he ducked behind the deployed fortifications, only for the metal itself to suddenly heat, blasting toward him as the enemy ignored its presence entirely. His shield saved him from the worst, but he was forced to retreat, leaving the barely-recognizable remains of his fellows behind, as the other enemy continued forward. Realizing the futility of cover, he fired on the move, forcing the enemy to track him at a half-run to the corner of the gun position, firing all the way. Four more of his fellows fell to it as the enemy began to focus their fire on him and his larger rifle.

A fourth, equipped completely differently from the others, came rushing forward, with some sort of power-sheathed melee weapon reaching out for him while his weapon was on another. Only quick reactions, and the pre-loaded 'puppy' at the small of his back saved him as he quickly drew it, releasing the 40mm armor-piercing round into the thing's face at less than a meter, and sending it tumbling back down the ramp.

All around him, the others were falling in droves. Without similar armor to his, or the personal shield and dedicated weaponry, they were little more than fodder for the Thallax, and he quickly ordered another withdrawal, trying to preserve what he could. Priming a concussion grenade, he tossed it down the ramp the enemy heavies were approaching from, content when he saw his suit's sensors register kills as the brains and other fleshy remains controlling the metallic bodies were liquified inside their armored shells by the Ikittitl-sourced blast weapon. Gritting his teeth, he led the now-60 soldiers back yet another position, wondering how many more such teams there were that would pursue them into the depths of the city.

Sar'Korren Riverbed Exit, Iel'Hassan
Tan'Naus Frontier Sector, Huerdaen Domain

Landsknecht Vasshi Inakai Sikissa could smell the fear and terror of the Huerdaen as they streamed out the lower exit, deep in the river valley below the city proper. Her small militia group numbered only thirty-one, shifting out without armor or vehicles among the people that streamed into the soft soil. Many of them were having trouble walking, sinking into the shifting dirt as if it was little more than quicksand. Her group stayed against the riverbed walls, where the stone was hard and solid, moving quickly as they deployed outward toward the river ford where they could get back up to the surface over the small trails that led up the rock face.

Everything about it said they were losing, and she knew well the toll that realization had on people. All around panic was in the air as they attempted to avoid the invaders, even as she knew that soon the enemy would appear at the top of the cliffs, ready to fire down on them. With so many struggling in the soft ground, they were little more than targets.

That moment came sooner than she'd hoped, but later than she'd feared. The first shot was fired down into a large mass of Huerdaen, and was met with surprise and confusion. However, confusion soon turned to panic, as the masses below raised what weapons they had on them and fired back, filling the air with inaccurate volleys of undisciplined fire. A few bodies fell from the cliff's edge to meet them, but more and more made it to the side, and soon the civilian populace of the Huerdaen was fighting for its life in the soft ground, firing frantically as the enemy fired from stable positions in cover. It was a slaughter, driving many back into the facility in panic.

Her team made it to the nearly-invisible paths up the rock face before the distraction of the populace was lost, their screams and cries punctuated by the enemy firing into their wounded masses. A few grenades detonated, punctuated not by screams, but moans, indicating that the fight was long over. They had almost completed their climb by the time the firing stopped.

Where they arrived at the open grounds above, they were just over a kilometer from the enemy, but behind them, and the small group slipped away, back toward where the enemy had originally landed. Unarmored, but carrying the long-barreled 'Screech' variant sirens, her group picked their way across the now nearly-abandoned battlefield, using the lengthening shadows and low spots in the terrain to hide from enemy eyes as they took a look over the enemy and their treatment of the dead. Only once did they come across an enemy patrol, as a group of what appeared to be prisoners awkwardly carrying weapons stumbled across them less than a meter away, hiding from their overlords next to a burning tank.

There was no fight. The humans were not prepared for the teeth and claws of the small, frail-looking hunters with their wide, fearful-looking eyes. Blood mixed with mud and char next to the tank as the group continued stalking forward, looking for the half-machine augmented that served as leaders for this strange, inhuman enemy.

[Khandosia]

Sar'Korren


The Thallaxi moved at will, crushing whatever opposition they encountered as they did so. Encoded vox blurts between units allowed them to react to changes in the battle at an efficiency rate that would be impossible by unmodified human standards. Even the vaunted Space Marines would be hard put to match the destructive efficiency of the Ordo Reductor. Such was the case when the scout-variant unit, designation Ro-997/1, was incapacitated by an armor piercing shell to the face. Internal systems cataloged the damage and a pulse was sent out, both to the leader cadres of the assault force and to the Ramanujan in high orbit.

The first thing they would hear was a loud crumping sound. Louder and deeper than the footsteps of the Thallaxi, with none of the fiery fury of their built-in jump packs. The ground itself shook as the footsteps grew closer, louder; a thunder cloud approaching, seemingly from all directions.

The wall erupted outwards. Twin graviton-hammers drove forwards and an enhanced frame of battle-automata burst forth. Towering at over three meters in height, the Domitar-class Battle-Automata turned it's head in the direction of the fleeing soldiery. Weapon fire erupted from them, almost before it had stepped out from it's impromtu entrance. A blue-white light erupted when heavier, armored shells were fired; the Domitar's ion shield flaring.

Squeeling mechanical blurts erupted from it's augmitters. It was a battle-cant eruption of code. Audial systems that the local soldiery might have had turned on in that moment were disrupted, the cleverly designed electronic attack hammering at their vital systems.

A part of the armored, ceramite shell of the Domitar slid back and revealed a line of red-tipped missiles. With a second burst of battle-cant, it let loose a volley of anti-personnel missiles that plundged into the mass of soldiery. It followed up it's attack, thundering into their ranks and crushing with it's steel fists the flesh of the Omnissiah's enemies.



A Few Klicks From The Mechanicus Landing Area...


The sun was threatening to dip beneath the horizon. Explosions and the sounds of combat were beginning to die down. The line of weary, haggard helots that had survived thus far were marching back to their assigned dropship. That any of them had survived this far was a miracle in and of itself. Of the several thousand that had participated in the initial assault, to now, they had suffered at least eighty percent casualties.

Jacob nursed the shrapnel wound in his left arm as best he could. He'd taken a bit of cloth from a fallen corpse, tearing the material to make an impromptu bandage. It pulsed and stung. The little bit of metal was lodged just above his elbow, making it impossible for him to bend the arm in question. His lasrifle was slung from it's strap around his right shoulder, bumping uncomfortably into his hip each time he took a step forward.

The one remaining Leman Russ Battle Tank that had accompanied them back to the landing suddenly stopped. It's commander opened the top hatch and leaned down. He had to yell to be heard over the growling engine.

"There's something funny here. The auspex is making this weird return on---."

A wailing screech tore through the air.

Jacob turned to see a seeming horde of small, screeching bodies appear from whatever passed for undergrowth on this miserable planet. They seemed humanoid at first until their too-wide mouths opened, revealing fanged maws that unleashed the weird, keening screech of aggression at the helots. Before any of them could really react they were rushing through the uncoordinated helots like so many scythes through wheat.

A well thrown dagger of some kind struck the tank commander in the throat, causing him to topple backwards and fall awkwardly into his tank. Others of the helots were fighting back or running, their instinctive and very human 'fight or flight' reactions fueling them. Las shots went wide, cracking the air with ozone smells. Screaming, yelling.

Jacob fell back and crawled beneath the Leman Russ. Twice he was almost crushed by a falling corpse, but he managed it. His heart was hammering in his chest, but he kept his breath shallow and light. The sound of the Leman Russ' engine filled his ears, blessedly drowning out the cries of the dying. The side sponson heavy bolters of the tank opened fire. Jacob had no idea if it was effective or not, but it certainly added to the cacophony.

A vox blurt echoed from the collar that hung around Jacob's neck.

"Hold position. Fight and kill in the name of the Omnissiah!"

A platoon of Skitarii Vanguard, bearing the personal heraldry of the Magos Dominus Xerxech, marched in from the south. The helots had fallen in their dozens, with only a few of the savage, mutant-like enemy beasts felled in return. That was not to last as radium carbines were leveled and sickening blue-white light shone from the Vanguard troopers' weapons.

-----

Centurion Zeta-5/a2 tramped forwards in the mechanical fashion that belied the swiftness with which he did so. Two artistically embellished radium pistols were clasped in his hands, a bit of personal customization that would have been reprimanded except for the mathematical equations that made up the gold gilt along their barrels. The world as seen from Centurion Zeta-5/a2 was overlapping filters. He could see the outlines of stark black and white lines, movement; a wide sprectrum of emissions; and basics such as heat and radiation signatures.

The platoon of Vanguard troopers that Centurion Zeta-5/a2 led leveled their weapons and opened fire against the mutant enemy. The rounds of radium weaponry were like bright tracer fire in the dying light of the sun. Each radium carbine roared with the staccato punch of a drill being rapidly driven through steel, combined with the high-pitched whine of electric cavilers. Centurion Zeta-5/a2 placed two perfectly aimed shots through the heads of two mutant creatures that were surprised to be disturbed from their act of stabbing a helot to death.

<Trooper Rho-88, correct gun elevation by one-point-three-four-seven degrees, down angle. Your current elevation is inadequate,> flash-blurted Centurion Zeta-5/a2 in Binaric cant.

<Compliance.>

Each angle was accounted for, each point of view but another corollary to the whole, and each burst of fire was accounted for. Any Vanguard trooper that failed to meet the perfection of the battlefield dispositions was accounted for and latter reprogramming or wetware adjustments would be made.

Whrrrl~ratata~plink! Whrrrl~ratata~plink! Whrrrl~ratata~plink!

The guns continued, unabated.

The encounter would be finished in seventeen-point-seven-nine-three seconds, calculated Centurion Zeta-5/a2. Pleased, he continued to target and fire with one smooth motion after another. Any of the mutant creatures that charged forwards in an attempt to bring one of the Vanguard down by melee attack would be picked off from an enfilading angle, micro-bursts of information transmitted between each of the troopers. Nothing was wasted, no angle unaccounted for, and no enemy left living in the wake of their grinding machine intelligence.

[Huerdae]

Outside Sar'Korren, Iel'Hassan
Tan'Naus Frontier Sector, Huerdaen Domain

The sun had set over Kaito's group long ago, and the day that seemed like hell had gone with it. In the distance, smoke rose into the dark night sky, lit from below where the city of Sar'Korren burned fitfully almost ten kilometers away. Their attackers, such that they were, had left, and all that remained of his home was a pair of terrified-looking Suidochi corporate militia, four Sikissa huddled together, and a few dozen civilians looking wide-eyed and afraid. Their eyes darted to every shadow, and many covered their heads to hide from the stars and the open sky.

They followed him now, wherever he led. Their little breakout from the depths of the city had been almost an accident, harassed and followed by the enemy inside, they had been pushed further and further from the other defensive positions until they found themselves at a quiet path along the cliff face, where they had waited until dark. The entire time, they could hear the screams, echoing through the city. Fire alarms had gone off somewhere deep, with the insistent drumming alarms going unnoticed and unheeded. Now, fire poured from almost every entrance as the city continued to consume itself in ruin.

Their nameless enemy had finished lifting their troops back into the sky less than an hour ago, but there was no indication if additional forces remained in the area in case of stragglers. All he knew was that without any communication gear more powerful than his suit's comms, he was effectively blind. His only real option was to head somewhere generally secure he could leave the civilians and build up whatever presence they could in hopes of lasting until morning. The surface of Iel'Hassan, however, was unforgiving in that regard. It lacked large outcroppings or heavy forestation that could be used for cover or to conceal their movements. Instead, the ragged band stumbled forward aimlessly across open ground, some of it littered with bodies of one side or the other.

Suddenly, a notification pinged on his faceplate, informing him another unit was in range of comms and scanners. The orange alert was almost blinding for a moment against the darkness, but he could see nothing in the direction indicated. To be safe, he gestured the group to the ground frantically, many of which dove into the dirt and simply curled up. He could hear the sobbing of a man somewhere near the back, and more than a few fidgeted with weapons, trying to find the target.

It was almost a minute before the vehicle came in sight and could be identified. A Huerdaen Law, with scoring from countless small-arms hits, as well as several significant areas where the armor had been penetrated. Inside, a Force officer with a bound head wound was visible through one of these gashes, driving slowly and clearly in pain as they rolled toward the group, one wheel of the vehicle completely missing.

It was enough, though, that they were friendly, and Kaito rose, slowly, holding up his hands and weapon so they could be seen. The man, without the screens normally afforded a Law, was startled and nearly veered off the road. There was a moment's hesitation, and the sounds of irate yelling from within before someone finally stepped out, in Force standard armor.

Or at least, it would have been if not for the mess of it. A frantically bound neck wound was visible near where the armor had partially broken free, where the blood had seemingly stopped only recently. Even so, Commander Asani's face was clear enough, and he signalled his group to rise.

Most followed his hand signal, but several did not. As the Force came forward, helping the wounded get into their only vehicle, he went to collect his stray sheep, only to notice the Sikissa standing around one of their own on the ground.

Unmoving, the male had its eyes fixed forward, uninjured, and ready to fight, if his heart hadn't stopped beating. The others seemed unsteady, frantic, and unsure. His arrival caused one to jump in a panic, slashing at his armor with a screech of claw on metal.

The highly-strung predators seemed unable to control themselves, and he spoke quietly to their leader, trying to get through to them. "Vasshi, it's okay. Hey, look, they're friendly. It's alright."

Nodding slowly, she relaxed slightly, but her eyes turned down to her fellow predator, until Kaito's arm drew her away. A quick scan from his armor showed him that the thing had died from excessive stress. The greatest weakness of the quick, deadly people was simply an extended situation like this. When they had met up, there were several more, but their attrition rate was increasing drastically. Now, only the three remained, one of which was wounded and barely able to move.

Making sure he scooped up the Screech Siren, he looped it over his shoulder by the strap and met up with Asani, her eyes somewhat clouded from fatigue she wasn't prepared for, and loss of blood. As soon as she reached him, he could feel the weight coming off her shoulders and onto his, as she gave a report. "Sir, Lord Kaito. I have six left active, and three more wounded. Only one is likely to survive until morning. We can help move the wounded to the overlook, that should get us there sooner."

Her eyes moved over his group, with growing concern. "Your group doesn't look much better. How many of the Sikissa have you lost like that? I'd heard, but..."

His face turned grim as he lowered the visor to talk without comms, and his confused expression seemed to startle her. "Why the overlook?"

Slowly, she spoke, her concern growing. "That's...where you're headed. A beeline right for it. And it's still somewhat intact. They seemed to loot it, instead of raze it. It....it'll provide cover. I thought you were..."

He sighed, and just nodded. Of course his path took him to the overlook. It was his place of peace. A bad habit. Gritting his teeth, he nodded again, more forcefully.

"Yeah, it makes sense. Can you get the Sikissa on board and let them know we'll be inside shortly? It should be only a short way by now. Get your wounded settled, I'll walk the rest in. The killer kids weren't designed to take this. Anything over half an hour of action and they drop. I'm surprised any of them are left. Their bodies are strung way too tightly."

She nodded, taking the small beings' weapons from them and ushering them inside. Quietly, she grabbed one of the fire blankets, draping it over the trio as they huddled together, fighting to survive in the aftermath.

The rest of the night had been a blur. He'd been unable to sleep, and several times local wildlife had come near, picking at the corpses. They hadn't dared fire at them for lack of ammo. Most of the Suidochi officers were still somewhat intact, and they had cleared a room of broken glass and metal enough for people to sleep on the ground. Two stayed on the surface, hiding against the shattered defenses, surrounded by bodies frozen in their moments of death. He could hear the Force officer talking to himself, quietly, about what they could have done, and who could have been saved.

He left the man to it. When morning had returned, so too did Asani, rested and nursing a freshly cleaned wound. The other had fallen asleep less than an hour before sunrise, and his soft whimpering could be heard from where he lay in the destroyed gun position.

The woman's gaze was worried as she saw him, but she asked nothing, simply sitting to watch. The sun was nearly twenty degrees above the horizon, with morning in full swing and the animals moving fitfully between the corpses when another came up. A civilian, he gently woke the Force officer, ushering him below for some of the rations they found. It left him and Asani alone for a bit, which only made things more awkward.

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, but her eyes were skyward, unaware of his coming apology entirely. "They're here....Sir, we did it. We're saved."

He didn't have the heart to tell her that the dropships visible above were too little, too late. A full battle group was on its way, but there was nothing left to protect. The enemy had done their job completely. He had logged into the comms units of the base during the night. The entire planet had gone dark. Theirs may be the only group of survivors out of millions.

[Khandosia]

Ark Mechanicus Ramanujan

+++Internal Cortex Analysis+++

\\processing...
\\processing...
\\processing...

++Cerebral Cortex Congress Disengaged++

+Prime Cerebral Demesne Initiated+

\\activation_001001
\\access_given


Magos Dominus Xerxech came back into 'himself', such as it was. The experience was somewhat novel to him of late, as he had not had cause to revert to a single, prime cerebral interface in more than twenty-three-point-nine-seven Terran years. For all of that time he had been busy between his various external habits, experimenting within his inner sanctum or guiding junior members of his Ordo in the finer tenets of the Ordo Reductor. It was part of his mandate as a Magos Dominus to guide the next generation of tech priests, to initiate them into the mysteries of their order. It was highly incongruous with what the larger Khandosian Mechanicus held to, with it's New Way -- as Xerxech saw it. He agreed with many of the tenets of the New Way, but it also left too much of the ephemeral of their positions out. Science was, Xerxech liked to think in his private moments, suppose to be more of an art. The newly entitled Fabricator-General was so mundane, if pleasingly inquisitive, in his outlook towards the mysteries of the Cult Mechanicus.

A dozen mechadendrites pulled Xerxech from his control cocoon, an assemblage of metal limbs and technological marvels coming together to form the physical form which Xerxech most enjoyed inhabiting. When his red robe with it's white-gold trim, a series of equations that spelled out the finer points of c-frac weapon impact calculations, fell across him he seemed like an overly tall humanoid being with four glowing red lens staring out from beneath his hood. He sent out a noospheric pulse and released the encoded locks of his inner sanctum. Hardened, galvanized steel several meters thick opened in an expanding iris that allowed Xerxech to step into his outer work station proper. HIs famulous, a personal assistant that he had chosen from among the acolytes, was waiting for him.

<Hail victory for Mars!> canted Tiberian, his six-digit augmetic hands forming the cog symbol of the Mechanicus. <Hail victory to the Magos Dominus!>

<Abort such salutations, Famulous Tiberian,> blurted Xerxech. <They are not required and elucidate nothing except pompous data strands.>

<Duly noted, Magos Dominus.> Tiberian tacked on a coded blurt that showed he was duly chastened.

<Has the Ramanujan reached the jump point yet? Have the tech priests begun analyzing what technology we brought back?>

The questions were largely superfluous. Using his access of the noosphere he could instantly inload the current acceleration, position, and course of the Ramanujan within this alien system; as well as access the incoming cogitator recordings of what the lex mechanics in the storage deck were finding among the debris and detritus that had been hauled back up from the surface of the planet. It had taken three standard hours of the night to recall all Thallaxi Cohort units, bring back all drop pods -- even destroyed ones -- and what was left of the penal unit chaff that had made up the initial wave of the planetary assault.

<Initial analyses are still inloading, Magos Dominus. I believe that are promising. These...abhuman beings we tracked to this system seem to have fairly advanced forms of technology. Many are analogous to our own, though there are a few...gaps that must be analyzed by wiser minds than mine own.>

<That is without doubt, Famulous Tiberian.>

Xerxech pulled up a record of the extraordinary bombardment procedure that had been required to destroy the last major city on the abhuman planet. Regular torpedoes, bombardment cannon, and lance strikes had been ineffective. He had been forced into taking the near unprecedented act of unleashing the Ramanujan's Nova Cannon Array, an ancient and perhaps the Ark Mechanicus' most deadly weapon system. Instead of a single nova cannon which most cruisers or battleships might have carried, the Ramanujan had a unique and possibly prototypical Nova Cannon Array, which contained six such cannon. Because it was such a rare opportunity to fire the NCA, Xerxech had decided to spread the payload out between numerous types of specialist ammunition. Impacting simultaneously upon that shielded city had been three rift shells, which contained a vortex missile like payload, and three grav shells, which contained and unleashed miniature black holes. His auguries had failed to record exactly what happened upon impact, but the resulting crater left behind was enough of a conclusion. It still bothered him that he didn't know more about that shield system. It was unique and outside of what the Mechanicus was capable of making.

For now, thought Xerxech.

A priority message alert flashed across Xerxech's eyes. An outer augury scan had picked up the presence of several dozen capital ships and numerous other, lesser vessels. It appeared that they had not been able to cut off communication from within the system completely. Well, it matters not. We shall not be here to greet them.

>Prime Directive Command: Initiate warp jump< canted Xerxech, using his noospheric link to the bridge.

>Compliance< came the inevitable reply from the bridge commander, Magos Uxhill.

With a blink of bright colors and false-reality, the Ramanujan left the system behind.