Hoshiko Cosmodrome
Day 171 of Perinetus civil war
Imperial objectives: Secure titan landing site
“Ten seconds, princeps.”
Sicut Sanguis Rosa hunched like a lion ready to pounce, held in place by two gantried pylon-towers. An ungainly array of chemical rockets were locked to the titan’s back, like spears in the sling of an ancient hunter. Deploying from the
Shepherd would have been easier - but the crusade warmasters, in their infinite wisdom, had summoned Chao’s bombardment firepower for the upcoming push on Coseflame. Magos Ankari had declined to intervene, and Hange suspected that the Perinetine weaponsmith was glad to see the back of their titan tender after the amount of collateral damage it had caused in the previous orbital battle. The highest honorific on this forge world was
Master of the Perinetus Shipyards, and archmagos Krupp was jealous of it - seemingly even while said shipyards remained in Patriot hands.
Which was, of course, the embarrassment they planned to correct with the Sirenia legion’s sally today.
“Five seconds, boosters igniting.”
A shudder rattled through the titan’s superstructure, and Hange felt her bones itching as
Rosa’s machine spirit tensed up in indignant protest.
Then again, Hange thought, the messy orbital battle was not the main reason for Krupp and Ankari’s currently icy relations with her legion. Although Ankari had already claimed the first enemy Warhound, and the second belonged to Sirenia by all the laws of the mechanicus, Hange could tell that the weaponsmith had badly wanted
Lupus Vengea. She had offered all kinds of bribes, including replacing the Sirenia’s fearful skitarii losses from the Ankylon battle with soldiers from her own archeotech maniples. But Hange knew the value of her prize, and she knew the ancient rules of titan war. Ankari had made her displeasure known by leaving
Vengea to languish in its hanger-shrine, ministered to by diligent but ineffectual prayers of repose while other assets were cycled through Ragnarov’s repair bays.
“Princeps, we have lift-off.”
The great gantry towers hinged back, and Hange saw her moderati gripping their chair-arms for stability as the firing rockets rattled her teeth and pressed her back into her command throne. She could feel the g-force squeezing tears from her eyes as the
Rosa began to ascend - ponderously at first, but then with rapidly gaining speed.
No, Hange corrected herself - Ankari’s true revenge had been in her timing of the launch waves. To have the knights clear the primary landing site for the larger titans was logical, but sending her skitarii commander in the first wave where he would likely be killed...that had Ankari’s invidious fingerprints all over it. Skitarii existed to die for the god machines they defended, but Hange vowed to avenge Hector Rho if he died for the sake of Ankari’s pique.
As the sky beyond the cockpit canopy shifted from blue to black, the spidery arms of the shipyard loomed out of the dark.
“The Patriots have been attempting to withdraw for the past two days.” magos Ankari’s voice flickered through to
Rosa’s comm-net. The weaponsmith maintained the professional contact that the war effort required but, as with every interaction since Hange had turned down her request, there was frost on her unaugmented flesh-voice. “Our ground batteries shot most of them down, but a few of those who escaped may have sought refuge on the orbital instead of warping out. Even without Delzharian to lead them, they value the shipyards as much as we do.”
Hange couldn’t help but think that they could have gotten
all of the fleeing transports, had Chao and Veiss been allowed to remain in orbit. It was still another day before the mechanicus relief fleet was due to arrive - how many hereteks had escaped in the time that the skies over Perinetus stood unblockaded?
“You can expect surface defences.” Ankari was saying. “Also, two lances of guardian knights from House Kamil were sworn to the shipyard’s defence, and Delzharian’s hereteks are known to have captured at least some of them intact. After most of the fleet rebelled and the loyalist ships were either destroyed or fled, those still on the station knew they were blockaded. Delzharian offered safe passage to all loyalists who surrendered...and then threw them out the airlock.”
Hange could pick out features on the sprawling orbital docks now - gantry arms to cradle wounded ships, vox towers to link to the planet below, grav tethers and weapon blisters that stood cracked and dark after the
Shepherd’s duel with the heretek monitors.
“You are on course to the topside landing site within acceptable speed and directional parameters.” Ankari reported coolly. “I am detaching your launch rockets now.”
Hange felt another shudder, and a phantom weight lifting from her shoulders. Around her, the titans of the legio Sirenia shrugged off their orbital boosters, and for a brief moment the god machines were crowned by spreading angel-wings of fire.
+ + + + + +
Perinetus shipyards, high orbit
The first wave was already landing. To call it a wave was generous - the rocket carrying Hector Rho and his bodyguard had splintered into a dozen decoy pods, each one drawing a torrent of fire as it plummeted towards the landing site. As chaff and flares rained from the drop pod in a desperate attempt to see them safe to the ground, Rho clung to his faith in the machine.
To Rho’s mind, it did not make tactical sense to send a tribune down alone, with a minimal guard, against all the defences of the corrupted shipyard. But he did not question the logic, for he had faith that the prophets’ Understanding was greater than his own. Perhaps they wished to gather information on the drop zone defences. The only thing more expendable than the drop pods was the skitarii inside them - even a skitarii commander. The prophets had given him the honour of a martyr’s death, in service to the greater goal of liberating this holy temple from the Adrantean blasphemers.
By the Omnissiah’s grace, they made it to the surface, even as the other pods burst and tumbled around them. Thrusters juddered, and a far sharper crash announced their touchdown on the holy surface of the Perinetus shipyards. They were the first loyalists to set foot on the installation since the civil war began, and Rho could thank the prophets for that honour, at least.
As the hatches burst outwards, Rho’s bodyguard thundered from their restraint couches to lock their magnetic boots to the holy steel. Rho could see trails of fire spewing up from the surface guns, and fire raining down as the other drop pods shredded apart and crashed to earth. The silence of vacuum turned it into an eerily beautiful sight, though Rho could feel the vibration of the crashing debris impacts. Far above hung the vast disc of Perinetus, looking down at him like the eye of a judging god.
“The prophets say we are to interface with the main power node!” one of his bodyguards voxed, pointing towards the vast termite-mound of steel and solar panels that loomed directly ahead of them.
“They will have changed all of the command codes.” he heard another murmur, doubtfully.
Have faith. Rho activated his output ports with a mental nudge, and reached out towards the shining tower. He made contact, and felt the hissing, snarling presence of the hub’s guardian spirits rising to drive him back.
+Tribune Hector Rho+
The signal came from above, an unfamiliar contralto flesh-voice projected along the Sirenia’s command link. It was the voice of an angel; clear, commanding and terrifying.
+Archmagos Jazmin Ankari requires your compliance. Stand and receive the Machine God’s blessing.+
Now Rho understood. The prophets didn’t need his martyrdom - they needed the superior range and signal strength of his command implants.
He felt holy code streaking down like a bolt from heaven, reaching his implants and spiralling out in fractals through his communion with the power node. Through him, they entered the machine. In Rho’s mind the signals formed serpents with wings of black light, driving breaths of fiery code before them through the network. All across the steely landscape, defensive turrets shut down and folded away, their guardian djinns dissolving like smoke before the dark magic of the archmagos.
+Your service is noted, tribune.+ the angel told him, sternly. +Stand by for titanfall.+
+ + + + + +
“What the…?” Straub couldn’t help but exclaim as the fury of lasers, missiles and kinetic rounds blazing up from the station faltered, sputtered and died.
“I would not have the lexomats record that the legio Sirenia were able to take back the shipyards without my help, knight commander.” magos Ankari voxed frostily through his neural link. “Witness the power of the Lords Dragon, and think on it. You have approximately eight minutes to clear the landing zone before the titans arrive. Ave Omnissiah.”
The thruster packs attached to
Dark Pugilist’s legs spread fingers of flame, then detached and spun away into the void as the Atropos-pattern Knight thundered down onto the surface of the shipyard, cratering the steel plates with the force of its impact. On his retinal display other lights began to flicker green as the rest of House Calyx made landfall, crushing vox masts and dormant turrets beneath their weight.
Around them was the steel field of the shipyard hub, barnacled with rising towers and sprawling machine shrines. They were to secure this area, the only space large and level enough for the Sirenia titans to make their unorthodox landing. Then together they would walk towards the centre of the yard’s splayed docking arms, clearing the way towards the primary airlocks where the final wave of skitarii and amazonea would be able to storm the inner decks and take the station back for the loyalists.
Silent gun batteries jutted skyward, and missile pods stood with blast-shutters closed. The quiet lasted for only a few moments before a flicker of energy crossed the airless void between the towers and slammed into Straub’s ion shield.
“Two contacts!” Pietr warned, as
Witness and
Warden began to lay down fire from their battle cannons, the knights’ frames torquing as they struggled to stay mag-locked to the skin of the shipyard. “Errant class; one near the turret cluster, one near the power node!”
There was a flash like a lightning strike off to Straub’s left, and then another, and then two more on his right. Four more Errants arrayed in black and gold came striding out of the crackling balls of light, and Straub’s instruments began to shrill with target locks.
“Site to site teleport.” Venato cursed quietly over the link. “They’ve tagged our landing site and routed their heavy units to counter us.”
Teleporting close-assault knights directly into the fight was a well-known dirty trick of the Lucian houses, and Delzharian’s hereteks had apparently been studying their work. They came on aggressively: ghost-beams flickering from their thermal cannons, missiles flaring from their topside pods, chainswords scything at the empty void. One knight, whose crescent moon armorial had been painted over with a crooked mandala, raised its thunderfist gauntlet towards Straub in challenge. As it flexed its iron fingers, a pulse of white light swatted out across the battlefield.
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