by Various
Mortar fire was coming in thick and fast, bad news for us. Fire warrior teams away to the east were copping the worst of it. It was pure good fortune that there’d been a rare delay in the construction, and the atmosphere reprocessors hadn’t been flown in – there was a vast network of these planned, Bu said, to clean up the air. A direct hit on one of those and the battle would’ve been over in short order.
O’Hye’esera was there, directing drone squadrons against the Guard. The ves’ron made a handy shield, and kept them occupied. And so we were in something of a stalemate. The lone Riptide assigned to First Bridgehead was hammering away at the trees, but the Catachans were moving around, and they were hard to see, even with all our useful technology. Markerlights – drone and tau operated – were stripping away some of the benefits they derived from cover, and I thought it wouldn’t be long before our superior weaponry and superior fire discipline would drive them back into the forest where they could be hunted down after the conquest, captured, and inducted into the Tau’va at leisure. Despite our difficult position, we’d already blunted their attack. Or so I thought.
I was wrong about that.
Overlapping patterns of pulse fire started to take their toll, markerlights painting up the Catachans in bright oranges within our helmet sighting mechanisms. Shells continued falling on us, and we were taking stiff casualties, but we’d annihilated a good platoon’s worth of the enemy to their two fire warrior teams’ worth on our side.
That was when the Imperials revealed their secret weapon. They waited until our Riptide had advanced, jetting forward to support the rush forward of our troops. For that moment, it was on its own and unsupported by the Hammerheads.
An Imperial Knight came from the forest to the north-west. The movement of the treetops was the first indication that it was coming, and then it burst through the trees and all hell broke loose.
Knights are rare things, great walkers possessed of arcane tech. I’d seen one once before, in the same colours. House Terryn, I think. Bigger than the Riptide, and just as heavily armoured. It opened up with its battlecannon and stubbers as it came charging at our lines. Their weapons are simple solid and explosive projectile throwers, but the sheer size of them makes them devastating. All of a sudden the triumphant feelings we’d been enjoying evaporated. A volley of battlecannon fire slammed into the lead of our three Hammerheads, blasting it into shrapnel that went scything into the fire warriors sheltering behind it. As it demolished the tank, the Knight’s other weapons were running hot, sending a stream of tracer bullets into our lines. The height advantage the Knight had over us made what little cover we had useless, and perhaps a fifth of our fire warriors died in those few moments.
O’Hye’esera reacted instantly. The two remaining Hammerheads took off skyward, firing as they went. She ordered a withdrawal, and we fell back, team by team. The turrets of the command node switched to target the Knight, and the Riptide repositioned itself to engage. The earth caste were very confident about the Riptides, but I don’t think they’d accounted for the shielding the Knights have. The Riptide rocked as it sent several ion rounds at the Knight. Each and every one was absorbed by the shields to the front, sending ripples of coloured light playing across the machine’s heraldry. Probably the shas’vre in there thought he’d fell the Knight with no problem, generally tau weaponry shreds Imperial armour like tissue paper. He was in for a rude shock. Caught by surprise, he ignited his jets too late, lifting off the ground as the Knight broke into a lumbering run that set the ground shaking, chainfist raised. It carved through the air with a speed that took us all by surprise, crashing into the Riptide’s leg and taking it clean off. The blade continued on into the side of the Riptide’s jump pack, shearing through the left exhaust, and the battlesuit lurched to the left, gases billowing from it, and out of my line of sight.
We retreated from the Knight in good order. In response, the Catachans poured out of the trees in force, running toward the command node. It looked like they’d abandoned their plans to go for the processing centre and were headed right for the command centre. That there was an ethereal in there got the tau all het up. O’Hye’esera ordered a ring of steel to be cast around the node. I mean, that was the obvious target, right? The attack on the processing centre was an obvious feint.
We were all wrong about that.
‘Gue’vesa teams eight-four-four-eight, eight-eight-nine-severn and eight-nine-one-three, fall back to the processing centre,’ came Ethereal Aun’kira’s command. He was stationed up in the command node, and hopefully safe. ‘Your species will be comforted by the presence of its own. Defend the complex against any incidental aggression.’
‘I hear you and respond, Aun’kira. We obey.’ I signalled to my four remaining men and we ran back pell-mell from the rippling lines of fire warriors covering each other’s redeployment. The other humans of the cadre joined with us. To an Imperial this sending aliens to guard aliens would have been the height of idiocy, but the aun knew we would obey. Actually, let me put that another way; it was almost inconceivable to him that we would not do as he commanded.
As the most longstanding gue’vesa’vre, and an ex-captain to boot, I took charge of all three gue’vesa squads, and deployed my little band of traitors at the processing centre. It was a big building, roughly one hundred metres each side, curved corners, a fat-bellied frontage that swelled up four storeys to a projecting observation floor. Typical clean tau architecture. Pathfinder snipers were up on the top deck, so we weren’t entirely alone. There was only one real entrance, a set of double doors six metres wide and three high. These were securely locked.
‘What’s the situation inside?’ I radioed.
‘All calm, gue’vesa’vre,’ came a tau voice, oddly modulated by my helmet’s translation suite. ‘We have displayed your presence to the gue’la captives. Your people are calmed by your actions.’
‘As the aun wished it, so we make real,’ I said. I don’t always remember the formula responses. I’m better at it now than I was then.
I set the other two teams to guard the doors, and took Holyon, Helena, Goliath and Othelliar away to a guard post, the last erection away from the building in the otherwise unfinished quadrant of the city. The post was a small, circular pod, slotted into a predefined space on the city’s grid. A curved roof topped it, one wraparound window giving a 360 degree arc of vision. A little like a very squat mushroom. You know the type.
We went inside. There was enough room for all of us. ‘We’ll get a good view from here,’ I said. ‘Not that I expect much action.’ We watched the interplay of las- and pulse fire around the node, the sparkle of tau energy shielding. I regretted not being involved in the firefight going on around the command node. Now they were out of the forest, the Catachans were having the same problems we did, and no sheltering screens of drones to protect them. But by the Emperor, they were fierce, and where they closed to assault range with the tau, they cut them down with those big jungle knives without mercy. Where we could, we lent fire support, but we were only five, and outside of our guns’ effective range.
I was mindful that Skilltalker was in the building behind us. I was relieved he was well out of it, and that he had Krix with him.
Chapter Six
[A green sky is choked with smoke and flies. There are bodies everywhere and a powerful stench. The subject is satisfied with what it has done here. These are traitors. This is the fate of all traitors. Wait. Analogy? The subject seeks to communicate its defiance and fury at the gue’vesa. Remarkable. It defies the nagi, whom none can defy. Collectives refocused. Earth caste intensification machinery operating at 87% of tolerance. Mind rip operational.]
I am in a dying jungle. A single squad, Ebon Wing, is with me. My squad, battle-brothers for many years. I have fought with these adepts for long lifetimes of men.
Captain Odell of the Catachan 432nd signals his readiness. Seneschal Contyre of House Terryn
indicates to us that he is approaching the xenos construction site. I thank them for their sacrifice. Their chances of escaping Agrellan are slim, and the xenos will treat them harshly should they be caught. They are to begin guerrilla operations once this engagement is concluded. The deployment of the Knight, with little hope of recovery, is a mark of how important our mission is. We must capture one of these water caste forked tongues, and rip his secrets from him. As to that end, all is in place.
We are one hundred and fifty kilometres behind enemy lines. Analysis of previous tau conquest patterns have revealed that colonisation begins immediately, even as victory is being won. Such efficiency is paid for with predictability. We have identified fourteen possible sites for processing and landing facilities. Following the transit of prisoners and the activity of enemy survey teams, we have narrowed this selection down to eight probable sites, then six definite. By tracking the movements of our betrayer of traitors, we determine the correct site. All has proceeded smoothly. It is as we judged, our target is where we predicted.
We move through the arid forest without a sound. The tau are arrogant, so sure of their technology. They do not detect us or our allies as we approach. Their overconfidence will be their undoing.
‘Swift Vengeance, we are in position. Await my orders,’ I signal our ship, an escort. A small craft, but fast. One I have the honour of commanding in battle myself. We have two opportunities to take a sample for the biologians; as our target hides here, or when it runs before us. Either will suit me, and I am relaxed, sure of our triumph, one way or the other.
I order another auspex scan of the complex. There are many aliens there, but only a single company of their warriors.
‘Their technology is formidable, brother-sergeant,’ says Brother Usk.
‘And their prowess weak. We will prevail,’ I say. We have studied much of these tau in our cells whilst in transit, especially the details of the punitive expedition into their space during the first crusade. I have little fear that this second crusade will not achieve the same results. We shall cast them back over the Damocles Gulf, and in time cross over ourselves and wreak righteous genocide upon them. Their worlds will burn, become ossuaries, the stacks of their sightless skulls under silent skies testimony to the might of the Imperium.
Such times are in the future. For the moment, I am eager to coat my blade in their vile blood. The shadow captains say that they are worthy foes. That is as may be, but they are alien for all that, and so worthy only of contempt.
A vox pulse, modulated in such a way to avoid detection, reaches me. Colonel Odell and his men are in position. I respond.
‘Attack. May the Emperor be with you.’
‘I yearn to be into the fray,’ says my brother Yuvin. His hands work the grip of his axe. We all feel his impatience.
‘You will have your opportunity soon enough, brother. We must wait until they are fully engaged to the north.’
Gunfire erupts in the distance, on the other side of the clearing from our position. About now, Odell will have sent his wave of penal troopers forward at their prisoner processing facility. An obvious feint. The ‘real’ attack will be directed at the command node. It is imperative that they feel that their leader is under attack if we are to snatch our true target. A fake attack on our real objective to mask our true intentions. Such deception is second nature to us.
I am irritated that I am not to attempt the rendition of one of the alien lords, but every attempt thus far has been a failure, and Shadow Captain Shrike informed me that the consequences for the civilian population here would be dire.
The thump of explosions joins the sounds of lasgun fire. I can hear the shouting of men.
The forest about me is unclean. The tree boughs are rotten. Dry through and brittle, yet coated with a noxious slime. Shaggy grey beards of moss drip from every branch. The forest floor is slimy with black leaf litter. Little else but the trees grow here, and they are diseased. Cankers afflict many of them, whorled bumps that leak angry red fluids down the trunks. The creatures I have seen are of similar condition. My armour’s sensorium warn me of toxins in the air that might tax even my physiology, blessed by the Emperor’s gifts as it is. I watch a malformed insect analogue climb painfully up a tree limb, its feeble efforts performed to the accompaniment of repeated battlecannon round detonations. The Seneschal Contyre is engaged. I look again at the insect. This malformed creature faces a battle as great as Contyre in simply searching for food. It reminds me of…
[Danger! Something deep arises from the mind of the subject. A whirl of images confounds us; a fight in a narrow way for stale food. Orange skies. A friend. Yes. This is the source of the resistance. A friend. Female, dirty face, affection in her eyes. She struggles to survive. She struggles to find enough to eat. Memory overlay is in process, emotional resonance threatens to overwhelm us. Earth caste machines at 92%. Mind rip recommences.]
I shake off the memories of my early life. I am a Space Marine. I have a duty to perform. This is not a healthy world. It carries the taint of the warp. I hope the xenos choke upon its poisons when we leave it for them.
‘The attack is under way. We shall proceed. As one, brothers, let us ignite our raven’s wings and fall upon the xenos and the traitor with rightful anger!’
‘Aye, brother-sergeant!’ they respond.
We leap skyward together, sending a rain of sickly branches crashing down. The xenos are unaware as to our approach, and we fall upon them with complete surprise. All hail the Emperor of Mankind, all hail His son and our father, Corax, Lord of Ravens.
Chapter Seven
When we were absorbed in the fight at the command node, that’s when things got interesting for us. There was a roar in the sky. I looked up to see the blaze of jump pack jets as black armoured warriors came hurtling down.
Raven Guard. Black armour, white birds on their shoulder pads. Their jump packs howled like monsters, their blocky bolt pistols firing as they descended. All of them were armed for close combat, and they were coming down right on top of my la’rua.
I switched targets, blasting away at the nearest to me. There’s enough stopping power in a pulse carbine to put a Space Marine down. One out of his armour, that is. Good as pulse weaponry is, the rounds lack penetrative power. Someone might want to look into that. My shots hit home, forcing him off course. He twisted in the air to correct his flight, and is sent away from his comrades, but not a one got through his armour. Imperial power armour might be less sophisticated than the Crisis suits, but it is still formidable. He landed ten metres away from me with an audible clang. His fellows followed suit, touching down between my diminished squad and the processing centre.
In the next three seconds it became abundantly clear that the command node was not the Space Marines’ objective. They didn’t attack the fire warriors defending it. This is what I figured they’d be doing, trying to trap us between two forces, make us divide our fire, then get in close where the superior strength of the humans – and especially the Space Marines – would tell. With all due respect, the fire warriors are noble and well-disciplined, but they are not effective melee combatants. If this single squad got in amongst our lines, it was all over. The Raven Guard would go through the best of the shas’la like a hot knife into butter.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, the Raven Guard headed straight toward the processing centre where five hundred would-be citizens of the Tau’va were sheltering. The other two gue’vesa squads there didn’t last long. Fourteen dead to not a single Space Marine casualty, blasted to meat by explosive rounds. The Space Marines formed up around the big double doors of the processing centre. I saw one of them turn the door mechanism to slag with his meltagun, and the others force the door. Panicked humans spilled out through the gap, some trying to run, others throwing themselves at the Raven Guards’ feet in surrender and dying just the same. I didn’t have much time to think on this, as the Space Mar
ine who’d landed separately from his fellows came at me with a burst of his jet, leaping straight at the guard post. Five of us, against one of him. It was not a fight in our favour.
‘Get out!’ I yelled at my team. I was terrified, could barely speak. They ran backwards, out of the door. I only just managed to dodge out of the way as the Space Marine crashed through the wall and window. I fell sprawling to the floor, only just managing to keep hold of my carbine.
‘You are a traitor and will be dealt with as such!’ he shouts. His vox-grille had a harsh, primitive sound. ‘Prepare to face the judgement of your rightful master, wretch!’ he cried. Or something along those lines. I was desperately blasting at his breastplate with my carbine, but again I was foiled by his armour. The others fell back from the command post, wary of the slaughter going on behind them at the building. Ten Space Marines are an enemy to cause a hundred of the mightiest men to pause, and we are not among the mighty.
