The Jaws of Cetus: Roar of the Lion
The battle in space had served its purpose; the Dark Angels now had a secure orbit around Rynn’s World, with the Rock and other supporting ships positioned to drive off any further attacks from the Tyranids. The transports would be shielded, the great ships conveying more and more troops to the planet, and perhaps indulging the Student in her little plan to get civilians off world and out of the clutches of Cetus.
The Lion had more important matters to attend to.
“I want continued orbital bombardment around the main nodes.” he said as he and the last of the Deathwing made their way to the Rock’s main teleportarium. “When we begin our attack, it should force these insects to move out and hasten their destruction.” he did not wait for confirmation; those still aboard the Rock were more than capable of performing their duties, and knew well not to delay their lord.
The group soon found its way to the teleportarium, quickly moving to the center as technicians prepared for transit. Several Watchers drifted about, one taking a spot just beneath Jonson as they prepared for transit. “My lord,” the Company Master on duty said when Jonson reached the center. “Our forces have engaged the enemy just south of the city of Santoris, as well as those positions picked south of the central nodes. The Deathwing and Ravenwing have accounted themselves as well.”
“Good.” Jonson replied. “Transport us to the nodes and alert all Company Masters of my arrival. On my word, snatch us away from Cetus’ grasp.”
“Yes my lord.” the Company Master gave a nod, support crews prepping the teleportarium for transit. The Lion readied himself, hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he and the others were sent down to Rynn’s World.
Empress, if you can see this far, he thought. Let it be known that the Lion was not found wanting.
There was a flash, and Jonson found himself standing in the middle of a warzone. The Dark Angels and their successors had formed two battle lines around the landing zone, Tactical and Devastator Squads holding fast to provide withering barrages of firepower. Before them was a vast horde of Tyranids, the horizon roiling with blue and white as tens of thousands of xenos charged the Astartes lines. Between the horde and the line, bikers and pilots of the Ravenwing had sheared through the right flank in preparation for an attack against some of the commanding xenos, while Deathwing Knights pushed through the opening to join the battle. Beyond, Tyranid bio monstrosities traded fire with Dark Angels and Imperial Guard tanks and artillery platforms, Jonson, noting quite a few burning wrecks dotting the landscape as the Tyranids closed in.
Further on, Jonson could see his target: massive towers of chitin, bone, and flesh, pulsing with eldritch energy as they directed the swarms below and above. Clouds of toxins and other gasses floated about them, blotting out the sun in a purple haze that appeared to twist on its own accord. Smaller flying xenos flitted between the towers, and Jonson could feel a low hum permeating his very being, a few hairs on the back of his neck standing on end from long forgotten human reactions of trepidation.
A perfect challenge for a Primarch.
Jonson himself had arrived just before the path cut by the Ravenwing, several Deathwing Knights forming up before him to deflect incoming shots from the Tyranids. The xenos bled away, swinging wide as their higher organisms considered this new threat. “Cowardly lot, are they?” the Lion asked, drawing his sword. “Clear the lines, then we shall strike at the heart.” The Deathwing said nothing, merely stepping forward as they poured fire down on the horde. Plasma and assault cannons blazed as the Dark Angels tore a hole into the Tyranids, dozens of lesser organisms falling slain at the Lion’s command. With a shriek a line of the creatures came bounding forward, claws outstretched to attack the Astartes.
The Tyranids crashed against the Deathwing Knights’ shield wall like a wave, dozens of Gaunt strains clawing at ceramite and adamantium. The Dark Angels struck back with grim efficiency, every swing of mace, hammer and sword slaying a score of the xenos as they continued their inexorable advance. The Tyranids bled away, hoping to tempt the Deathwing into pursuit and thus break their formation, but the Sons of Caliban were not so easily broken. Dozens more of the insects died from storms of boltfire, the ground thick with crushed corpses as the Terminators trudged onward.
“This is what passes for a challenge in this era?” Jonson called over the lines as another wave of Tyranids shattered against the Deathwing. “Come now, beasts! Do not tease me with your cowardly games!” the Tyranids shrieked again, ducking away from the Dark Angels as they searched about for an opening.
A roar caught the Lion’s attention. Barreling through the Tyranid hordes were several massive creatures, “Carnifexes” if his research was to be trusted. The tank-sized beasts were armed with thick claws and long talons, some of them spitting acid from their jaws as they charged towards the Dark Angels. “Ah, that is more like it.” Jonson readied his sword. “Brace, my sons! Show these xenos the true might of Caliban!” The shield wall firmed, the Knights slowing only to ready themselves as the Carnifexes came charging forward.
The great beasts slammed into the Terminators, the line bending inward as the Terminators held as best they could. Even with shields and armor some were not so fortunate, Jonson watching as one unfortunate Knight was torn asunder by a swipe from one of the monsters’ massive talons. Others were bathed in a putrid mix of bioacids, ceramite sizzling as the concoction tried to find purchase. The Dark Angels struck back, their power weapons crashing against chitin as they battered down the Carnifexes.
Jonson charged forward, using his free hand to grab ahold of the tusks of one nearby specimen. The Carnifex roared as Jonson pulled the beast to the ground, claws lashing out as it tried and failed to slay the Primarch that pinned it so. The Lion stabbed down with his sword, severing the Carnifex’s head with a single strike before whipping the blade around to blind another. A stab upward through the palate finished off that Carnifex, the Lion not even pausing as he stepped past the fallen corpses.
More of the smaller creatures swarmed forward, supported by Warrior strains to provide some semblance of control among the horde. The Lion slid back, pulling his sword into a looser position to better handle the onrushing Tyranids. Several Deathwing Terminators armed with Lightning Claws stepped up to his side, bracing as the horde crashed back into them.
The Terminators worked quickly, their claws slashing through the charging Gaunts with ease. The Lion kept his strikes controlled, going for swift sweeps to cut through the chaff as he targeted the larger strains. These seemed to be armed with a variety of claws, organic guns, and swords of bone, hissing at him as he chopped through their minions.
The Tyranids fired their weapons, Jonson bracing himself as voracious beetles and worms splattered against his armor. “Disgusting,” he muttered. “Will the universe ever cease to mock me with such insults?” the Lion did not wait for a reply, ducking past the sword of one of the Warrior strains before cleaving it in half. He blocked the next strike with ease, sparks flying into his face as bone and metal scraped along one another before he jerked his weapon forward, stabbing the Tyranid through the mouth. The next Warrior suffered a similar fate, the Lion quickly withdrawing his sword before stabbing forward again to gut the creature, greenish ichor splashing across his gauntlet.
As the rest of the Deathwing moved to catch up with their Primarch, the Lion took a moment to survey the battlefield once more. The Ravenwing had swooped in for another strike, fighters and Land Speeders bombarding the Tyranid center. This sortie was interrupted as dozens of Crones and Harpies came swooping from above, the Tyranid beasts tackling several Dark Angel flyers from the sky. Larger creatures crashed into the Dark Angel lines, Carnifexes and Tervigons tossing Astartes through the air with great sweeping strikes form their claws and talons. Jonson gave a grunt, sweeping his sword to his right to cast off some of the Tyranid blood that had accumulated on it.
The Deathwing was not moving fast enough. That would have to be remedied.
“Press the attack,” he said, bringing his sword to a guard position as he advanced towards the xenos horde. “Perhaps these beasts are merely too stupid to realize when they are truly challenged.” The Deathwing did not say anything, preparing their weapons in silence as they advanced towards the Tyranids. More of the smaller creatures swarmed just out of reach of Jonson and the Dark Angels, darting forward only to let loose with a burst of fire before darting away again.
Just as Jonson made to charge, the ground beneath him shifted. He ducked away just as a pair of Mawlocs burst from the ground, snapping at the Deathwing Terminators as they reformed their shield wall. The Tyranid beasts were soon joined by a similar creature, this one possessing smaller jaws and crackling with bioelectricity. The others seemed to be follow this new arrival, smaller Tyranids swarming around it as it reared up over the Dark Angels. Some synapse creature... no matter.
Jonson raised his sword and charged, using his size to barrel through the seething horde of lesser Tyranids. The Trygon spotted the Primarch but made no effort to challenge, instead slamming into a squad of Deathwing Knights while more small Tyranids surged forward to meet the Lion. The Lion swept his sword downward, cleaving through a score of the creatures as he pressed through the others, their claws doing little to break through his armor before other Deathwing Terminators closed to fight them off. Thus freed, Jonson continued his charge, bringing his sword up for a stab towards the monster’s chest.
Just as Jonson lunged forward, the Trygon released its bioelectric pulse. Green bolts of energy flashed from the monster’s body, some reaching out to strike the Deathwing while others arced towards the Lion. Quickly he raised his sword to shield his face, grimacing as the energy surged through his body and burned his armor. This was followed up by a swipe from the Trygon’s tail, the strike catching Jonson full across the chest and knocking him back several meters.
As the Trygon focused now on the Lion, the Primarch brought his sword back to a guard position as the monster surged forward. The Trygon slammed against him, lashing out with its larger talons as its head rushed down in attempt to bite the Lion in half. Jonson danced away from the talons and flicked his sword around, slashing the Trygon across the face as its jaws sank into open air. With that he whipped the blade back and stabbed at the base of the Trygon’s skull, the sword stabbing through chitinous armor before stopping just shy of the hilt. The monster roared and tried to shake the Primarch loose, Jonson taking the sword in both hands as he worked to sever his opponent’s head.
The Trygon ultimately won the struggle, shaking the Lion free with one final thrash. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering just out of reach of the Lion as the wounded Trygon reared up to face its foe. Jonson backed up, looking around the beast for an opening to rearm himself, hands balling into fists in preparation to fight. With a roar the Trygon surged downward, but the Lion darted away and rammed his fist into the beast’s face, chitin and ichor splattering across his gauntlet as he tore one of its eyes free. The Trygon howled and thrashed again, knocking the Lion away once more as it tried to make up for lost vision.
Fortunately, the strike brought Jonson within reach of his sword. With one lunge he reached the blade, crushing a nearby Warrior with his free hand as he rose to face the wounded Trygon once more. Taking his sword in two hands, the Lion advanced forward again, the Trygon roaring as it lunged one more time. However, Jonson took a quick step to the side, twisting his body and swinging downward just as the Trygon rushed past. The Tyranid shrieked as a large chunk of its spine slid away from the strike, the monster writhing in agony as Jonson brought his sword around and advanced.
“You almost presented a challenge, beast.” he said, taking a reverse grip and plunging the sword deep into the Trygon’s chest. “Almost.” The lesser Tyranids swarming the Deathwing took notice, melting away again as the Terminators reformed their line and battered down the Mawlocs. Jonson cleaned his sword again before turning on his vox caster. “Gunners.”
“At your command, my lord.” came the reply from the Rock.
“Draw initial targeting matrices on my position, and maintain lock.” he said, drawing back as the Deathwing formed up around him. “On my signal, commence bombardment.”
“Yes my lord.” Jonson looked back at the battlefield watching as the Tyranids rallied and prepared the next wave. Now, they seemed to realize the Primarch and Deathwing as a larger threat, more of their greater beasts herding towards the Terminators while the rest of the Dark Angels were allowed to reform. Several of their large artillery beasts, “Tyrannofexes” and “Exocrines”, lined up to commence bombardment of the Deathwing, while Carnifexes and Warriors led the charging tide of Gaunts towards the Astartes.
“Slow withdrawal,” the Lion said. “Bring the xenos in close and away from the main lines.” the Deathwing consented without a word, Knights forming up as those armed with ranged weapons continued to blaze away at the Tyranids. The Xenos surged forward and bled away, probing the slowly retreating Dark Angels for weaknesses in their lines.
Then the larger Tyranids fired. Bioplasma and Rupture cannon seeds exploded among the Deathwing, blasting through several veterans before the Deathwing Knights could intercept them with their storm shields. The gunline of the Dark Angels faltered for the briefest of instances, allowing the Tyranids a change to surge forward before the Astartes could beat them back. Still the slow retreat continued, Jonson eyeing the Tyranids carefully for the right moment to strike.
“My lord,” the gunner called through the Lion’s vox. “We have a targeting solution ready.”
“Good. Commence bombardment.”
“My lord, you are still within the blast radius of most of our weapons. Should you get caught-”
“Commence bombardment.” Jonson interrupted, leaning his head slightly to one side to dodge an incoming Rupture cannon shot. “My calculations will have us well outside the blast zone.”
“... At your command, my lord.” During the Great Crusade such hesitancy would have received a severe reprimand, but the Lion was feeling generous today. As he braced, his hand brushed against a communicator on his arm, a quick signal heading back to the Rock.
“Hold them just a bit longer, my sons!” he called. “The hour of their destruction is at hand!” the Tyranids closed in again, though some of their commanding creatures could sense something was afoot once the Deathwing stopped advancing. Already the Lion could see great lances of light scything through the clouds from space, his vision going white as the orbital barrage neared.
The Rock and supporting ships unleashed hellfire upon the Tyranid swarm. Dozens of lance batteries and macro cannons vaporized the xenos horde, a sea of fire consuming anything that moved on or beneath the ground. Slowly the gunfire from the Dark Angel line died down, the Astartes consolidating themselves while the fleet continued to pound away at the hordes of Cetus.
The air near the center of the Imperial lines shimmered before the Lion and his Deathwing teleported in. Good, they understood my orders, Jonson thought. This new generation can be trained. He moved forward as one Company Master crossed to him, the Astartes bowing low before speaking.
“My lord,” the Astartes said. “The line holds, and the Imperial Guard reinforcements will be in force soon.”
“Good.” the Lion replied, bidding the Company Master to follow him. “Begin building fortifications; we will use this as a forward operating base as we begin our attack on the nodes. Once our heavy guns are in position, we can begin a general assault on the Hive Nodes.”
“Yes, my lord.” the Primarch and Astartes were interrupted by a junior officer hurrying to them.
“Lords, the Tyranid forces are in full retreat,” he said breathlessly. “Your orders?” Jonson did not answer right away, moving towards the frontline while the others followed. The bombardment had slacked away, allowing the Lion to watch the Tyranids as they tried to recover from the attack. Most of the immediate swarm had been reduced to ash, but a few larger organisms were hard at work leading what remained away, shrieking at their enemies as they fled from sight.
“Attack aircraft are to harass them, but the main force shall not engage until our landing zones are secured.” he said. “Any pursuit now would risk us being overstretched and overrun. Once we have consolidated and the Ravenwing has reconned our enemy, then we shall attack.”
“At your command, my lord.” Both the Company Master and the junior officer departed, calling orders to those forces arrayed. The Lion remained motionless, watching as the last few rounds of gunfire were traded between Imperial and xenos forces.
This round was his. Now to ensure that the next would belong to him as well.
...
PARAMETERS CHANGE.
SWARM STALLED. NEW FORCE, PREY STANDS AGAINST SWARM. RESISTING, DO NOT UNDERSTAND PLAN. SWARMS HOLD UNTIL STAND CONFIRMED.
CHALLENGER? PREDATOR THAT LURKS IN THE SHADOWS NOT PRESENT... ONE OF PREY REEKS OF THEM. OBSERVATION SHOWS PREY CONSIDER THIS CREATURE LEADER AMONG THEM. SYNAPTIC NODE? PREY DISUNIFIED, NOT BOUND. MUST BE BOUND TOGETHER...
PARAMETERS CHANGE. CREATURE INSIGNIFICANT, BUT SIGHT IN EYES OF PREY RAISES CHANCES, OPPORTUNITIES. SWARM MUST KNOW, MUST BIND NEW INFORMATION TO CONSCIOUSNESS.
FIND THE CREATURE. CONSUME. DEVOUR ALL THAT KNOW.
...
Twilight was no fan of the Chimera transport, in no small part due to one of the worst days of her life truly kicking off while she was stuck inside one. Still, with the Sisters to guard her, and surrounded by humans who were not trying to kill her, she could feel at least some comfort.
Some.
“We are approaching New Rynn City now,” the driver called from ahead. “We will be taking another group of troops to the front, so you’ll have to make the rest of the way on foot once we pass the gate.”
“Your help bringing us this far is more than welcome.” Sister Naomi said, looking back to the other Sisters and Twilight. “Is there anything you wish to say, Tara?”
“Hmm?” Twilight said, shaking her head quickly. “Sorry, I was just lost in thought there for a moment... There shouldn’t be much you’ll need to protect me from in the city, so you can do your best to integrate with the forces and populace, maybe find some ways my plan can be improved on.”
“Once you are properly protected,” Naomi said. “After what happened on Caesaria, I do not intend to leave you alone without some assurance you will be well guarded.”
“The Astartes and Lord Mattias will be there, Sister,” Veronica offered. “Will that be enough to set your mind at ease?”
“In time.” Twilight chewed her lip, but said nothing more. Naomi was just being cautious; there was no need to fault her for that.
Soon, the rumble of the Chimera’s engine slowed, the vehicle coming to a stop. The Sisters quickly undid their restraints, Twilight grabbing her sword from where it rested before turning towards the entrance hatch. There was a pause before the door swung downward, giving Twilight her first real glimpse of New Rynn City and its defenses.
The outer walls were much like those from Canterlot, well-crafted and fresh compared to the rigid industrial feel of Caesaria or Terra. Like everything in the Imperium they were built to grand scale, the lowest points looming thirty meters above the assembly ground between it and the city proper. Bastions and macro battery turrets broke the uniformity of the ring around the city, some still blazing away at unseen Tyranid encroachment. Between the outer and inner wall stood a golden statue of some great hero of the past, a Space Marine champion holding aloft a giant blue flag adorned with a red fist as he crushed an ork skull beneath his boot.
The statue spoke of a triumphant past. The forces arrayed around it held to an air of grim resignation. Twilight could see hundreds if not thousands of Guardsmen, Some marching forward to board transports and tanks to take them to the fight while others helped wounded comrades limp back to New Rynn City and to safety. Most were dressed in the olive and brown uniforms of Cadia, but she could see a multitude of other regiments and uniforms present among the masses, from the sharp blue and red uniforms of the local Rynnsguard to the tank tops and khakis of Catachan. Most of the Guardsmen were too focused on their own duties to pay Twilight and the Sisters any mind, though they did get a glance or two as they moved through the crowds in search of Mattias and his henchmen.
They did not have to go far; Twilight spotted the Inquisitor and the others speaking with the familiar figure of Vulkan Mir’shen, the Salamander flanked by a squad of his fellow Astartes. Twilight quickened her pace to meet the group, smiling as she drew closer. “Mattias! Mir’shen!”
“Ah, Miss Tara,” Mir’shen said, his voice muffled by the faceplate of his helmet. “I understand from Lord Mattias that you encountered a bit of trouble on your way in.” Twilight’s smile slipped, but she did her best to appear calm.
“Yes...” she said. “Our ship was brought down to the south, and we had to fight off the Tyranids on our way here.”
“We also encountered the enemy upon our arrival.” It was now that Twilight could see that Mir’shen was covered from head to toe in greenish blue ichor, the Forgefather giving a small chuckle. “Fortunately neither has seemed to give us too much trouble, have they?”
“No... I guess not.” Twilight’s smile had fallen away, thoughts of the recent battle coming back to her mind.
“I mean no offense, Tara,” Mir’shen said, stepping forward and resting a giant hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “I know you are not one accustomed to fighting, but you should not allow such terrors to crush your spirit like this. Take pride that your actions saved the lives of your friends, that they may fight another day to save the Imperium.”
“I know...” Twilight’s smile returned. “And thank you for your kind words.”
“You are quite welcome.” Mir’shen said. “Now, I had intended to report to Lord General Hirsh and Lord Naverrez of the Crimson Fists, that they may know the Sons of Vulkan stand by their sides. Shall I conduct you to them?”
“Please do,” Mattias said, stepping up to Twilight. “The sooner we get an understanding of what we have to work with, the sooner we can cast Cetus back to the void.”
“No doubt. Please, this way.” Mir’shen and the other Salamanders started off towards the main city, Twilight and Mattias following while their respective teams formed up behind them. Mir’shen and the other Astartes kept their pace slow, perhaps to make sure Twilight and the others did not wear themselves out trying to keep up with the Space Marines.
Following Mir’shen. Twilight could get a better view of the soldiery of Rynn’s World. Many of the soldiers were injured, some with minor cuts and scrapes while others limped about on splints and rudimentary prosthetics. Red robed techpriests swarmed around Leman Russ and Predator tanks, doing their best to patch claw marks and holes melted from acid. Others were not so lucky, Twilight doing her best to keep composed as unlucky conscripts mopped their comrades out of a broken Chimera, Ministorum Priests and servitors passing incense over what pieces could be buried. The Sisters and Mattias’ henchmen made little notice, at first, though Twilight felt Sisters Rebecca and Bianca quailing at the sight of the carnage.
“The forces seem to be in good order,” Mattias said, turning his attention back to Mir’shen. “With the Primarchs and the Empress, we may yet hold Cetus back.”
“Your confidence is admirable, Inquisitor,” Mir’shen said. “My fear, though, is that we may not be enough to end this before more of such losses are seen. But then, that is what we Astartes are here for.”
“There aren’t many Space Marines around here,” Twilight said. “Are they at the front?”
“I am not one to answer that question,” Mir’shen said, turning his head so he could look at Twilight from the corner of his eye. “Lord Naverrez commands the Astartes forces upon Rynn’s World, at least until the Lion and Lord Corax can take full command. Perhaps he can answer your questions.” That was enough for Twilight, for now, and she fell silent again as they continued towards the inner wall. Curiosity bade her to look around more, but to take in more of the carnage in the battle against Cetus... she shivered.
Not yet... I’m not ready yet...
They soon came to a forward command post, Cadians and Rynnites standing at attention as Astartes and mortal stepped forward. Ahead, Twilight could see two figures, one a Space Marine clad in dark blue armor with red fists while the other was a taller man with a fine uniform and mustache, his great coat pinned to one side to compensate for his missing right arm. The general stood straighter before giving a short bow. “Forgefather,” he said. “It is a pleasure to fight alongside you again.”
“General Hirsh.” Mir’shen gave the general a short nod. “I see you have recovered since the Mandragorran Wars.”
“No xenos weapon can keep me down for long, my friend.” the general replied with a chuckle. Mir’shen turned his attention next to the other Astartes.
“Lord Naverrez,” he said. “It is an honor to meet you in person.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” the Lord of the Crimson Fists replied. “With the Sons of Nocturne at our side, perhaps the Crimson Fists may survive yet another trial.” Naverrez looked to Twilight. “And who might you be?”
“My name is Tara,” Twilight replied, giving a short nod. “I’m the personal student of the Empress.”
“Is that so?” the Astartes replied. “I had heard rumors that the Emperor had returned as a woman... never heard a student came with her.” there was a pause. “It matters not. If you are here to fight with us, far be it for me to reject an ally.”
“Oh... okay.” Twilight shuffled a bit, saying nothing more.
“You come at a welcome time,” General Hirsh said, leading the group towards a table on which rested a map of Rynn’s World. “The Tyranids press in on us from all side, though we still hold most of Sorocco and the fortresses in the mountains, plus whatever holdouts remain on Magalan.”
“Numbers are not on our side, though,” Naverrez said. “I command four hundred of my surviving brothers, and perhaps twice that in survivors from those Chapters that have come to assist us. Many of those are pinned in at the Arx Tyrranus, but they should be able to hold.”
“The Raven Guard are deploying in force, so that may help.” Mir’shen said. “What of other forces?”
“Fortunately my regiments still hold Rynn City Spaceport,” General Hirsh said. “Unfortunately we’ve lost Scar Lake Airbase and Porto Kalis, and most of our air and sea power along with them. We’re holding on as it is, but it won’t be long before the Spaceport falls and Cetus gets a clear shot at the city itself.”
“I would like a chance to inspect the spaceport,” Mattias said, drawing the Lord General and the Crimson Fist’s attention. “Cetus is known for its infiltration units, and I want to make sure that your forces are prepared for any subterfuge that comes against them.”
“My men are no strangers to fighting Tyranids, Lord Inquisitor,” Hirsh said quickly. “Nevertheless, their experience is probably trumped by yours; perhaps there is something I have overlooked that you might see.”
“Thank you.” Mattias nodded. The general and Lord Naverrez turned their attention now to Twilight.
“And what is your role, Student?” the Space Marine asked.
“Miss Tara has orders from the Empress to coordinate the civilian populations in preparation for a potential evacuation.” Mir’shen said. There was a lengthy pause as the commanders considered this.
“With all due respect, is that not a diversion of resources we don’t need right now?” Hirsh asked.
“It’s better than letting thirty million people get eaten by those monsters!” Twilight said, her brow furrowing. “Give me a few days, I’ll have things sorted out so you barely expend any resources at all. Maybe one company of soldiers and our transports, but nothing that should seriously impact the defenses of New Rynn City or the rest of Sorocco.”
“That is a bold claim, Student.” Naverrez said. “We already struggle as it is to keep those within the city alive, and you would claim the ability to evacuate them to safety...”
“I can do it.” Twilight said, firming up her stance. “I’ve had a lot of people doubting me about this, but I can do it... The Empress asked me to.” While that did seem to win over the Imperial Guard commander, Twilight was still unsure of the Astartes. He continued to stare at her through blood-red lenses, searching for any sign of weakness of body or spirit.
“... If it is possible, I look forward to seeing what you come up with,” he said finally. “As long as it does not impede our continued defense of Rynn’s World. Your value of civilians is admirable, but this is home of the Crimson Fists and our people; I will have final say as to what actions will directly impact them.”
“Of course.” small victory, but Twilight would take what she could get.
“If an evacuation is desired, that will make holding the Spaceport even more important.” General Hirsh said, looking back to the map. “I can maybe pull a few regiments in from the northern sectors of the city, but if the Tyranids attempt a flanking maneuver we may not be able to hold the Jadeberry Bridge.”
“My brothers will hold your bridge.” Mir’shen said, straightening up. “And there are others as well. Fellow Sons of Dorn, the Raven Guard, even the Dark Angels; five thousand Astartes and ten million Guardsmen will be landed by the end of the week, more than enough to hold the city and save Rynn’s World from destruction.”
“Nearly as many have died to keep us where we stand now,” Naverrez said, his voice now somber and controlled. “But perhaps you are right, and these new arrivals are just what we need to take our victory here. While I must return to our fortress to continue the defenses there, I shall not leave you wanting for strategy here.”
“That is all we can hope for.” Mir’shen replied with a nod. The Astartes and Guard Officers would continue their talk of war, while Twilight and the others faded into the background of their discussion. Not that she minded; some of her best learning and observation came from standing off to the side and watching.
And she would need all she could get. Thirty million lives depended on her.
...
Company Master Ramiel, late of the Guardians of the Covenant and now assigned to the Dark Angel Ravenwing, was frustrated.
It was not that he and his fellow Ravenwing had been tasked with scouting out the enemy. Some Chapters might have frowned upon being sent out to observe rather than engage, but Ramiel and his fellows were beyond such concerns; scouting was a vital part of the Unforgiven’s battle plan, and the Ravenwing and successors always rose to the challenge. It was not that they brought along with them a small score of neophytes; the Guardians always took great pride in educating the later generations of Astartes, and Ramiel had been toying with the idea of asking for command the Tenth Company if for no other reason than to change up his normal approach to war before the Primarch awoke.
What frustrated Ramiel was that Cetus was so infuriatingly good at masking their forces.
“Scouts have returned, my lord,” one of his brothers said. Ramiel watched as the small squad of light bikes returned in the dark, his enhanced vision picking out their shapes with ease. The bikes pulled to a stop just shy of the main Ravenwing force, the sergeant dismounting to speak with Ramiel.
“Report.” he said.
“We spotted more of those organic towers, but no other forces to be had.” the sergeant said, shoulders hunched in frustration. “Maybe a few guard organisms, but nothing like what we faced this morning.”
“So the monsters strike and then bleed away into the shadows,” Ramiel grumbled. “Not unlike the beasts of the Lelith Incursion...” there was a pause as Ramiel mulled over the situation. His orders from the Lion were to survey all of the Tyranid base, but continued exploration continued to reveal that the Hive Mind was crafty enough to hide even from the Space Marines, and no new information could be had. Continued exploration would only further risk the Ravenwing’s discovery and draw them into battle... if they had not already been tracked since their arrival.
“Mount up.” he said, turning back to the others of his retinue. “We’ll continue to the next marker, and then we will return to the Lion with our report.” the others gave no reply, and what reply they could have said would soon be drowned out by the roar of the Ravenwing bikes. It would take a moment for the Space Marines to form up fully, the speedier neophytes taking point while the full brothers kept a watchful eye to the rear. They continued like a dark arrow against the night, the only light being from the occasional backfire of an engine and the faint glow of red helmet lenses.
The terrain of Rynn’s World was hilly, not helped by the scars of war and the increasing encroachment of the Hive Fleet. Even for master riders of the Ravenwing the going was rough, the shock absorbers of the Astartes bikes barely holding back the shocks and bumps as they rode along. Ramiel’s saved them from the worst, but even he was not blind to the fact they were not advancing as rapidly as he would have liked, as his lord would have liked.
More frustrations. Always frustrations.
“Contact!” Ramiel had only scant seconds to process the neophyte’s call before a shadow bounded towards one of the leading bikes. The beast stood taller than an Astartes, its height enhanced even further by a pair of mandibles growing from its back. Ramiel gunned the engine on his bike and charged, hoping to catch the Lictor in the side before it had a chance to finish off the neophyte it had tackled.
The beast was quick, but not quick enough. With a crunch Ramiel struck the Lictor’s legs, the creature shrieking as it was knocked away by the impact. It lashed out with its talon, but Ramiel easily drifted the bike out of the strike, unhitching his power axe from the clamp on his belt as he faced the wounded creature. Another rev of the engine and Ramiel was upon it, an underhand strike taking the Lictor’s head off with contemptuous ease.
Around him, he could hear cries of men and xenos as more of the enemy joined the fray. Two more Lictors sprung from the shadows, accompanied by a small score of lesser Tyranids eager to spill the blood of Astartes. The neophytes drew back, twin bolters and shotguns blazing into the dark while the Ravenwing darted forward to split the swarm and perhaps drive them off. Ramiel brought up his axe and charged, his bike crushing several Gaunts as he made for the next Lictor. This one had knocked Brother Harad from his bike, the Space Marine raising his blade in a futile strike as the Tyranid ripped at his stomach.
No Astartes had to die like that. The sight only filled Ramiel with rage.
The Tyranid stopped its mauling of the fallen biker to face the Company Master. Mandibles lashed out, striking gashes in Ramiel’s arm and leg armor, but not enough to wound the Space Marine. With his free arm Ramiel whipped his bike around again, sweeping around until he was broadside of the Tyranid. His axe descended before the Lictor could turn to face him, the head sinking deep between its mandibles with a crunch. The Tyranid shrieked, trying to pry itself free from Ramiel’s blade, but the Company Master gave a grunt as he pulled the body toward the front of his bike. The twin plasma talons spoke once, blasting the monster’s head to melted slag with two direct hits.
The sound of battle began to die down, replaced by the mewling of dying Tyranids and the rumble of Astartes bikes. Ramiel swept his vision across the night, ignoring the flickering rune that alerted him to Harad’s passing moments, but he could find no further sign of the enemy. Always frustrations.
“Report.” he called.
“Kalax is wounded, but he can still ride.” one of the other Ravenwing said. “... We are collecting Harad.” Astartes could feel few of their original human emotions, but Ramiel allowed his rage to grow. It was but a small skirmish, not even worth mentioning, and yet he had lost a brother to the aliens...
“We will have our revenge...” Ramiel growled. “But not this night. Our orders are to observe and learn, nothing more.”
“Yes, my lord.” Ramiel was prepared to turn back to the path when the neophyte sergeant pulled up in front of him.
“My lord, we drew off some of the Tyranids during the fight,” he said. “But two of my neophytes have fallen behind. The swarm was such we could not retrieve them.” Ramiel gritted his teeth. One brother down, another injured, and two neophytes unaccounted for? This mission had proved to be a complete disaster. Perhaps the Lion might show me some semblance of mercy... Unlikely.
“We will try to locate our lost brothers.” he said, strapping his axe back to his belt. “Perhaps this may also lead us to some better understanding of what we face.”
...
INTELLIGENCE GATHERED. LOSS OF INFILTRATOR UNITS ACCEPTABLE.
LORD AMONG FOES. “LION”. THE NAME MEANS NOTHING. ONLY PART OF PREY. ACQUIRING STRENGTH OF LION WILL STRENGTHEN SWARM. MUST CONSUME LION.
NEW INFORMATION.... PREDATOR. TRUE PREDATOR. “EMPRESS”. WHAT IS “EMPRESS”? PROCESS INFORMATION...
BEYOND. PREDATOR, LIKE PREDATOR WHO LURKS IN THE SHADOWS. EMPRESS MUST BE DESTROYED, CONSUMED. FAILURE WILL DESTROY SWARM, SUCCESS BREAK PREY.
EMPRESS IS PRESENT. PARAMETERS CHANGE, SWARM IRRELEVANT, FOR EMPRESS MUST BE CONSUMED.