u/Accomplished_War4970

On the instructions of Regimental HQ, the Kytek 4th shifted its balance so that its centre of gravity was the Rail Yard. After the period of being camped out in the desert, the Rail Yard at least offered roads under wheels and concrete underfoot, which allowed for the units that had seen combat to be cycled out of the line. This would allow them to concentrate on maintenance and regeneration activity whilst fresher companies prepared themselves for the next phase of operations in the Basin.

All around the Rail Yard, knots of troops, all from 1st Battalion, were concentrating to reorganise and refit as best they could until such times as the the full weight of the Kytekan logistic chain could catch up with them. Some, such as Captain Naismith's Hippogriff Squadron basked in a certain amount of glory. The largely experimental unit had been key in the capture of the macro elevator and had done so with relatively few casualties. There was already talk that this unit was more of a raiding force than a recon force. Naismith was not so sure of that, but nonetheless he could not be happier with the conduct of his new unit.

Others, lurked in ignominy. The Ratling squads assigned to the checkpoint objective had been critical to the success of that phase of the operation, but fully a third of the ratlings in that area had turned heretic and attacked their fellows. This had damned near blown the whole operation and now the whole regiment knew it. If the Kytekans had been distrustful of their ratling auxilia before, at least they knew they were loyalists and had reliable combat abilities. Now even that was in question.

Dodger and the other ratlings had holed themselves up in one of the checkpoint guardrooms away from the accusations and likely reprisals of the rest of the regiment. He looked around at the sullen faces and knew instantly that these troops needed to hear something. Anything. On sheer impulse he got up.

'Righto you lot. Listen up... I know something really bad just happened and I know full well what you are all thinking. And I'm here to tell you that we are not going to get purged. If that was on the cards, we'd be dead now. I also know that many of you had to do things that you would have never dreamed of doing, and that is troubling you. I mean, I just had to shoot one of my crew dead and knock another out. I'm not the only one I know....'

At this point he looked at Blaster and nodded. Blaster nodded back weakly.

'... But we did a good thing here today. The checkpoint would not have fallen quietly without us. Those that fell did so doing loyalist work. Those that... turned... did not do so willingly. I'm convinced of that. They are as much casualties of this fight as the other dead. Only we have to bear the burden of their deaths as well as the burden of shame for their unwilling treachery. I say let the baselines think what they want. They will anyway. But tomorrow, and the day after and the day after that; they will need us and we will need them. And this will eventually be yesterday's news. Let's just be here for each other now, okay?'

Most of the ratlings stamped their feet in approval. Then another ratling, a sniper called Jammy, stood up. 'I... I killed Oily. I had to....'

Dodger sat back down. A succession of ratlings followed Jammy in talking about what had happened. For his part, Dodger looked on sadly, knowing that this was only the beginning of their way back.

/////

Another unit that was moving to the rail yard with much introspection was 1st Mech Company. The unit had been in a punishing fight with a collective of obvious tech heretics around the village of Mako off to the east. Their mission, to gather information and prosecute the enemy with rocket artillery had only been partially successful. The information has been obtained, indeed far more than expected, but the artillery had been interdicted and the price in blood had been high. Not only had 1st Company and their Taronian Hydra battery taken casualties, the other Kytekan unit, 3rd Recon Squadron, had caught the full weight of the counter-attack and had been almost annihilated. The shattered remains of the Squadron, some cavalry sentinels and a handful of recon troops, were now with 1st Company as they returned to the Regiment.

As the unit passed through the rail yard checkpoint, Captain Chambers was sat in the back of his Chimera, ruminating hard on the battle, as was his way. The action felt like to him like a defeat and it showed on his face.

Sergeant Major Talbot was observing his officer in the gloom of the Chimera's interior. 'Sir, there wasn't anything more you could have done. None of us had ever seen anything like what we just faced. We did what we were ordered to do, we got the recon information to Regiment and extracted 3rd Recon, even if they did get mauled. And the failure of the bombardment is not on us. The enemy were just ready for it. It's Second Battalion's job now. And we will no doubt have another job as soon as we get some administration time, refuel and rearm.'

Both of the men swayed with the motion as their carrier went over a hump. Chambers looked back at his hatchet-faced Sargent Major and nodded. 'I know. I just need to convince myself of that. I'm going to have to give 3rd Recon's troops a home. They have no officers left. They will need to hear what you just said as well. I just hope we are back in action soon. I don't want our people dwelling on Mako.'

'... And I don't want you dwelling on it either, Sir.'

Chambers just nodded in silence.

A minute or so later, the company was parked in one of the many goods loading areas in the railyard. Commander and Sargent Major both busied themselves with getting the company into administrative routine. Chambers was now able to look the company over. The troops, vehicles and equipment were in a filthy but functional state, and morale appeared better than Chambers expected. But he did notice that no one wanted to talk much about what had happened. He didn't blame them as he didn't feel like taking about the biomechanical abominations or the other sundry tech heresies either.

After doing his rounds, Chambers was seeing about getting his own kit back in order. Whilst he was stripping and cleaning his plasma pistol, a familiar face appeared. One Chambers had not seen since Trackold 3.

Lieutenant Isobel Dora, once one of Chambers' platoon commanders before she was severely wounded, short saluted and smiled to see her old commander. 'Captain Chambers, sir. It's good to see you again.'

The two shook hands. 'Isobel! Good to see you too, and recovered well, it seems. I hope you are not being too mistreated on the staff?'

Dora however changed the subject. 'Sir, I'm afraid I have bad tidings. Lt Colonel Heath was killed in the fighting for the rail yard.'

Dora looked at her feet. 'He died firing his weapons in a burning tank. The tank suffered an ammunition explosion and was obliterated. There is no body, sir. He won't go to the Great Rotation. I'm sorry. I know you two were close.'

The last bit wasn't entirely true. No one was close to Logar Heath, but Chambers had benefited greatly from his mentorship, and this came as a serious blow on top of the whole Mako business.

Chambers merely nodded numbly as he took the news in. 'Thank you for telling me Isobel. A tanker's death, then. I appreciate that you were here just to tell me this. We can catch up later under a better mood, okay?'

Isobel nodded her thanks at being dismissed from this grim duty and left Chambers to his thoughts.

////

In the Regimental HQ set up near the Macro Elevator, a lone Taurox with black and red striped marker panels pulled up. Commissar Rammke stepped out. Dignified, somewhat aloof but without her usual boundless energy. The Mako business has been grim and the moral threat large. There was a lot of work on the more pastoral side of the Commissar's duty to be done, especially with the remnants of 3rd Recon Squadron. She almost felt fatigued.

As she headed for the HQ entrance, she was intercepted by Confessor Silas. The deeply eccentric old priest was still covered with battle filth from the fighting at Sextus, but he had that look of pure conviction; one that only a graduate of the Schola Progenitum could give.

'Commissar Rammke, I wish to inform you of the death of Chief Commissar Pasco. He passed to the Emperor's Light as he lived: in the forefront of the battle. You are now the sole Commissar in the regiment.'

Silas gestured to a soldier who was loading a box into the back of Rammke's Taurox. 'Those are his personal effects. As the only other Prefectus officer in the regiment, they pass to you.'

Rammke merely nodded. 'May the God Emperor accept his faithful servant into his light. As the sole Prefectus officer in the unit, I shall make myself known to the Commander.'

Rammke then walked past Silas and into the HQ without another word. Nothing more needed to be said.

The fires were still burning in the ruins of Objective Sextus when the senior command of the Kytekan 4th called for a conference. The Regiment was scattered to the wind with its combat elements in five major concentrations. A time of coordination and consolidation was much needed. As the representatives from the various sub units arrived in the mobile RHQ, Colonel Marsen considered his position on the map with his XO, Lt Colonel Falker. He pointed to the cluster of units at the rail yard.

'So to confirm, the rail yard business is finally done?'

'Yes boss.' Falker said nonchalantly. 'First Battalion has secured both objectives. First objective was secured quickly; the plan worked. They got a bloody nose on the second objective first time around, but they got it on the second go. As you know, 1st Battalion lost it's CO, so Major Alex Adamski is now stepping up. And Chief Commissar Pasco died in the failed attack on Sextus. So I guess that makes Commissar Rammke our Regimental Commissar now. She is in the vicinity of Mako and doesn't know that yet. The battalion is now concentrated on the macro elevator. The casualty figures are on your data slate now... Equal to our estimations with only a +2% variable, so tolerable.'

Marsen didn't comment on the last part. He instead looked at the map impassively, then pointed at the marker for 3rd Battalion. 'How is Raike doing?'

'3rd Battalion is consolidating at the rail yard checkpoint. They are preparing to ride the macro elevator down for further operations in the basin. To confirm one key detail, we own the operation of the main rail and road entrances to the rail yard, and the macro elevator. We will need to operate these facilities for the whole force for now at least. Our enginseer Iota-56-Culaxa has, er... taken a bit of a shine to the macro elevator, so I'm told.'

Marsen nodded slowly. '... And Mako?'

Falker hesitated slightly. 'We only have in-battle SITREPs to go on, but 3rd Recon Squadron found something there. Something... Different. And dangerous. From interrogation of the combat cogitator feeds, they have taken very heavy casualties. They're in all probability combat ineffective. 1st Mech Company is also engaged and are sending intelligence feeds as I brief you. I'll report when I have more info.'

Marsen nodded. A grim look on his face. 'We will have Benson move Second Battalion into the area. Full advance to contact to retrieve our forces if needed. Also tell him to be prepared to either seal off Mako, or assault Mako with extreme prejudice subject to what the Inquisition forces need. Then I want those units currently fighting back here for regeneration.'

Falker smiled at the prospect. 'Your will be done, boss. Shall we start the orders group?'

Marsen nodded firmly and walked towards the briefing tent.

/////

At the rail yard, Confessor Silas was in a deeply conflicted mood. One that he would have to pray to relict upon later. On one hand, he was joyful as a traitor witch had just died by his hands; her blood still stained his robes and was burned onto his power maul. However, he felt strangely sad at the loss of Chief Commissar Pasco, reportedly at the hands of the aforementioned witch. How such a distinguished servant of the Emperor could fall to such a base heretic left him perplexed.

But this matter could wait. Heresy was everywhere and he needed to ensure it had not taken root in the regiment. Which brought him to the checkpoint and the matter at hand. Before him was a gaggle of disarmed abhuman auxilia. Ratlings to be precise, placed under guard by a squad of vigilant but otherwise quite detached Maypalans. Reports stated that a good amount of this unit had turned heretic during their attack and turned on the rest. A consequence of the positioning of the psionic nullifier plus, Silas surmised, the ratlings natural vulnerability to the malign heretic influence.

'On your knees and pray, abhumans! I want to see your faith, your conviction!'

As the ratlings, still filthy from the infiltration and subsequent battle, shuffled to their knees, Silas passed amongst them, his maul burning incense and kicking out copious amounts of heavily scented smoke. As the diminutive soldiers mumbled their prayers, Silas watched them with bloodshot, beady eyes for any trace of moral contamination.

One looked up at Silas, a look of serene distain on the ratling's face. Reminiscent of the thralls of Calix he had just fought...

Without a scintilla of hesitation, Silas brought the power maul crashing down on the ratling, crushing his skull, neck and one shoulder in a single blow.

'HERETIC..!!!' Silas spat. The ratlings either side flinched as they were splashed with blood, but continued their prayers. A Maypalan walked over and dragged the small corpse away by the feet.

The other ratlings tightened their hands on their chests in the symbol of the Aquila and redoubled their prayers. Two of those were Dodger and Blaster, who both gave an inwards sigh of relief as the rabid Confessor stalked past them. When safe, Dodger shot a concerned look at Shiny, who, with her bandaged head was amongst the three wounded ratlings off to the side. Dodger had a right to be concerned: Shiny had shown signs of heresy in the battle and Dodger had been forced to pistol whip her, knocking her unconscious. Now Silas was approaching her...

(15): Shiny tried her hardest to pray as hard as the others. She didn't even know why this was happening, as she had no recollection of her being wounded or any of the other ratlings turning traitor. All she knew was that two of her crew were dead and her head hurt a lot. This was a mercy, as it was clear that Calix had not kept her grip on Shiny. She was scrutinised by Silas, and Silas did not find her wanting for devotion. Once Silas had passed, Shiny stole a glance at her Fixer, Dodger. Her eyes full of questions she was unsure she wanted the answers to.

Silas turned to the Maypalan Sargent. 'The rest are clean. Rearm them and send them back to their unit.' Apparently satisfied for now, Silas walked away without a further word. He now had to figure out what to do with Pasco's mortal remains and his personal effects.

/////

Meanwhile at the macro elevator, another, entirely different sort of holy person was conducting a ritual of purity as well.

Iota-56-Culaxa had already downloaded the operations and maintenance scripture for the macro elevator and even a surface level inspection has shown how badly the traitors had abused the machine spirit of this true wonder of the Omnisiah's works. A platform that could take a god engine was raised and lowered by four immense toothed gears, one on each corner, that ran on its own trackway. Each gear was run on its own independent powered hydraulic system with its own fusion generator. The whole machine really should have been taken offline for it needed 74 hours and 19 minutes of maintenance protocols, but he knew that even suggesting this would likely be rewarded with death.

So Culaxa would do what he could. He had already reconsecrated the machine god shrine, which fortunately had escaped desecration by being in a sealed compartment the traitors had no access to. He had already appeased the Titanic machine's management cogitator system, which had seized in mid thought and required a careful use of the deactivation rune immediately followed by application of the activation rune precisely 30 seconds later. By the Omnisiah's grace the fusion reactors still worked, but would require refueling.

But now he needed ungent. To be precise, he needed 4 cubic meters of the most sacred Ungent WD40; one thousand litres for each enormous gear and it's trackway. The whole Kytek 4th would not use that quantity in three years. Even if he could get it, he would then need to apply it, which would take a substantial servitor work force.

Culaxa required assistance. That was mathematical fact. With a thought he sent a binaric data burst with the requirements across the Adeptus Mechanicus and Astra Militarum logistics elements in theatre. To his knowledge, the only Imperial machine that had similar ungent requirements was the Theatre High Command Leviathan, which at least proved to Culaxa that those sorts of quantities existed in the supply chain.

All he could do in the meantime was keep this great, holy machine working to the best of his ability.

As dawn broke over the Basin, the situation in and around Pylon Sextus had settled into a stalemate. The rubble field that had once been a square hab block was now a blasted no mans land as the Kytekan artillery worked their destructive craft all night. Once a multi storey structure designed to house hundreds of workers, now it was a hollow square of heaped, smashed masonry. Hard to traverse, difficult to attack, easy to defend. In the centre and bizarrely still intact stood the pylon, taunting the loyalists

Inspired by their priestess and determined to fight to the last on their inner perimeter, the traitor guard had used the masonry to build sangars. Improvised, but still highly effective defensive structures. In front of these lay the rubble field that was still sprinkled with the dead and critically injured of both sides, which neither side could safely retrieve.

In the open and clearly visible to all was the black coated body of Chief Commissar Pasco. This body held particular significance, as the traitors wanted it for its propaganda value. However there was just no safe approach to it and two traitor corpses lay in testament to the fact. The Kytekan sharpshooters were merely content with having something that drew the traitors into their sights. News of the Commissar's brutality in his final action had travelled fast in the battalion and the Kytekans were in no rush to risk themselves over his remains.

In the increasingly traumatised 1st Battalion HQ, Major Alex Adamski reviewed the latest picts and intelligence on Sextus. It was now clear to him that the time for rapid, unusual and inspired plans was long past. Now was the time for the type of grinding kinetic assault the Kytekans knew well. Gathering his staff, he gave it his orders. Nothing fancy or unfamiliar for this second push: Sextus would be drowned in explosive and fire, then ground under the tracks of first battalion.

In preparation the macro elevator worked constantly. Each lift sortie taking three Rogal Dorn tanks, four Leman Russ tanks or six Chimeras down into the assembly area in the basin. Soon the combined arms force, three times the size of the first failed attack, was on the start line to echelon through the 2nd Mech Company and into the attack. One coded vox transmission and the operation was commenced.

It started with indirect fire. Not the direct fire of the earthshaker battery on the cliffs but the high trajectory strikes of a dozen mortars. Thanks to their near vertical descent, the mortars had a better chance of neutralising the sangars. Some took direct hits, killing their occupants. Even close misses blasted the rubble and added to the shrapnel with sharp shards of masonry. Casualties amongst the defenders started to mount and the remainder dug in deeper and piled the rubble into higher walls.

The next phase put the defenders under further fire, this time direct fire from heavy tank ordinance. The hard to spot sangars were, if discovered, targeted with battle cannons and Oppressor cannons. It was fire that the improvised defences could not hope to withstand, and one by one, their defensive fire fell silent.

This allowed the conditions to be set for the direct assault. A fresh mech company took up the assault but not like before. This assault was spearheaded with two Hellhound tanks, which attacked from two identified navigable routes into the rubble field. If this was not a hideous enough prospect for the traitors, one of these was a 'Bane Wolf' variant; one of only three in the whole regiment. Whilst hellhounds were feared and hated almost as much by their friends as their enemies, the Bane Wolf was simply an atrocity on tracks. It's main armament was the Chemical Cannon, or simply Chem cannon, which rather than fire projected a stream of utterly toxic, acidic vapour that permeated everything and ate it away.

Whilst her sister burned an approach into the inner perimeter of the enemy position, the bane wolf's crew fired focused jets of chemicals into the sangars before them. One traitor heavy bolter crew were hit by the weapon and were simply melted away. Not by heat but by horrific chemical reaction that sloughed the flesh from their bones, then made the bones, sag and jellify. Seconds later only a stinking grey slurry remained of the two traitors. The whole spectacle was a memorable experience to those that witnessed it, to say the least. At the sight of this, a whole squad of the enemy simply ran away, ignoring the threats of their enforcers. Only the direct psionic intervention of the Priestess of Calix halted the withdrawal and forced them to turn around. But by then it was too late. A hole had been burned through the defences and the Kytekans began to pour through it, supported by the psionic nullifier following close behind in a chimera.

At the head of the Kytekan assault troops was the strange figure of Confessor Silas. Although not often seen at the front, the Confessor demanded to be present for this attack, feeling that the moral threat was strong. He was a fearsome sight, yelling encouragement to the faithful and carrying an incense spewing double handed power maul. Chanting the litany of war, each syllable was punctuated by a blow from the maul onto the body of a traitor. In what seemed like a minute but was in reality only a few seconds, the Kytekans led by Silas were through the line and into the courtyard, where a vicious close combat erupted between them and the final defenders under the towering pylon.

The defenders included the Priestess of Calix, who stood with a bizarre serenity in amongst all the fighting. The pinkish white glow in the eyes of the heretic faded to almost nothing as the null field enveloped the battle, but it was clear that her resolve to fight for the pylon remained. She pointed her staff at Confessor Silas. 'Come, 'priest'... Let me show you what devotion looks like...'

Silas, his robes soaked with viscera, his eyes wild and his mouth spewing psalms of hatred, made for a direct counterpoint to the Priestess that would have been morally profound, if anyone was noticing and not fighting for their lives. He swung the maul back and forth. 'Abhor the witch! Destroy the witch!'

He repeated the catechism again and again and again, his eyes never leaving those of the Priestess. Then holding the maul aloft, he charged the Priestess.

The fight between the two went back and forth, their weapons clashing with sparks of power, but with the nullification of the heretic's psychic powers, the result was inevitable. A head butt sent the Priestess sprawling and Silas bludgeoned her to bloody ruin. The maul raising and smashing down over and over again.

Even more soaked with blood than before, Silas looked around for the next target but there was none. What few traitors remained were running for their lives with the Kytekans in hot pursuit. Follow up forces were starting to mop up any remaining enemy. The pylon, still intact after all this fighting around it, was now in the hands of the Kytekans. But Silas had one more task to do here.

The old Confessor retraced his steps over the breached defensive line and some way into the rubble field, where after some searching he found the body of his old friend, Chief Commissar Pasco. After securing some of his personal effects, the Confessor commandeered the nearby bane wolf, which had shot all of it's foul payload in the battle, and got the crew to get the body onto the top deck of the vehicle.

Chanting hymns of worship and honour for the war dead, Silas rode with his deceased friend on his last journey back to the Kytekan lines.

(14/18)

With their hold on the Macro Elevator secure, the Kytekan 1st Battalion set about their second task, of neutralising Pylon Sextus.

Set in the centre courtyard of a square, multi storey building that surrounded it on all sides, the pylon was impossible to infiltrate towards. The building itself presented a fearsome fortification, as the thoroughly mesmerised traitor guard had hardened it towards attack, with a ring of entrenchments around it and numerous weapon positions on its high points. As soon as Major Alex Adamski, acting commander of the 1st Battalion looked at the structure, he knew the solution. He knew it before he even set eyes on it.

He ordered the Basilisk battery on the top of the cliffs to flat pack it.

Which they did most willingly.

It was with no small amount of satisfaction that when the smoke cleared and the dust settled, the sight Adamski beheld through his mags was one of it devastation. The entrenchments were torn up. The building itself was naught but rubble on two of its four sides and the remainder was a ruin. All but the damned pylon, which seemed to have weathered the storm of explosive disturbingly intact.

Adamski nodded to the short, but grim figure next to him. 'Commissar, I think you can commence your attack.' Chief Commissar Pasco simply nodded, turned on his heel and walked towards the mech company plus supporting elements he had been given nominal command over for this task.

Both men, even the highly experienced Commissar, believed the task as good as done. Such hubris.

Under cover of another bombardment, the psionic disruptor and the inspiring cajolement of their distinguished commander, the Kytekan 2nd Mech Company advanced on the blasted traitor position, and immediately came under heavy, coordinated fire. The open ground was covered thanks to the Chimeras, but a path through the trenches and rubble would have to be fought for by dismounted infantry. And here, the traitors had not only survived, but further fortified their positions. The Kytekans learned to their terrible cost that rubbleised terrain was even more defensible than organised fortifications. Every metre of progress had to be stumbled over and came with loyalist casualties. Every shell crater, crack in the wall and ruined room had to be crawled towards and blasted. It was a battle of grenades, flamers and bayonets. Every action bled momentum out of the attack.

The attack was thoroughly stalled just before the courtyard was breached. Pasco struck the nearby soldiers with the flat of his sword and cursed at them to go forwards, but the platoon had taken well over 50% casualties at this point and was pinned down. However it had to be them. There was only this unit that was in the right place to storm the final line of rubble defences and reach the courtyard.

Leaning against a ruined wall, Pasco snarled, his ornate black uniform now grey with concrete dust. 'Lieutenant, attack that position.'

The Lieutenant, already wounded in the head and left shoulder just looked back stunned. 'S-Sir, we need reinforcements. We need artillery, and we n...'

*CRACK*

Pasco, a smoking bolt pistol in his hand, turned to the other troops even as their lieutenant was collapsing with a fist sized hole in his chest. 'Any more suggestions from the floor...? Good. Now, Sargent, get these troops moving. Contrary to popular belief I would rather use my ammunition on the traitors...'

The shocked Kytekans had gotten the message and the NCOs started to shout and kick their remaining soldiers into assault positions. And on Pasco's command, they charged into the teeth of the traitor gunfire.

It was then that Pasco saw something far out of place on the traitor defences. A robed woman that seemed to radiate an aura of white, pink and blue, as well as other colours that were more concepts than refracted light; and hurt the eyes to look at. The aura crackled as Kytekan fire splattered off it. The woman looked at Pasco with a mix of kindness and pity. Pasco screamed in incoherent rage at the sight of the heretic witch and charged straight at her, power fist and power sword both energised to strike.

'In the Emperor's name, you will die, sorcerer bitch!'

The witch simply tilted her head gently at Pasco as he ran screaming up the rubble. Her expression nothing but sympathetic.

++ Poor, crippled soul, who will never know her love... Poor thing. You don't even realise.... ++

Pasco screamed even louder to drown out the mental Intrusion. But then he realised something. He realised far too late... How could she talk telepathically to him with the psionic nullifier active...?

++ Because you advanced out of range of the blank machine, silly... ++

Then with an all pervading sound that felt like every being in the universe screaming in unison, a bolt of pure psionic force flew from her fingers and struck Pasco in the chest, overloading his conversion field and burning straight through the body of the old Commissar.

Perhaps as a final mercy for his 120 years in service to the Emperor, his end came quickly. He slumped forwards and fell onto the rubble, his body marking the hight point of the Kytekan advance. Doubly shocked at the death of the redoubtable Commissar, the Kytekans one again lost momentum and went to ground. As the engagement continued they gradually exfiltrated the blasted, cursed rubble field, carrying their wounded with them and abandoning their dead. The attack had failed.

On the top of the cliff, Adamski witnessed the death of Pasco and the failure of the attack through his mags. With a resigned sigh, he went to the master vox to make his report.

(3/2. The Kytekans will be back for Sextus...).

One of the fitter crew shook Corporal Alice Mack awake. Or maybe it was a speed bump in the road. She wasn't certain. Through blurry, bloodshot eyes she could make out the built up area around them. She could feel the smoother run of the wheels on the well maintained roads. Civilisation mostly untouched by the war. Only one place in the theatre was like this.

Bracar. They had made it. And with all the parts they needed.

Covered in dust and almost out of prometheum fuel, the Cargo 8 slowly made it's way through the airfield to the maintenance shed where the Rocinante lay. Alice breathed a huge sigh of relief. There were times doing the trip that she honestly thought they would not make it back, yet alone make it back with the components needed. Yet here they were. In the back of her head, as it always was, lay thoughts about the data slate which was still concealed in the tool box. But Alice was now resolved on a course of action about that.

As the brakes of the Cargo 8 hissed and squealed, Alice turned to the others.

'We made it! Not only did we get the components we needed, but only 25% of them were criminally obtained, rich I see as an even greater success. Through Fort Davies we also have a more stable contact for future requisitions, so the future is looking better as well.'

'Look, I'm proud and honoured to be at your side now and in the future. You not only put yourselves on the line for the regiment, you also put yourselves on the line for me. You didn't have to follow me, especially as this trip wasn't exactly legitimate and being around me might have been trouble all by itself, but you did. And I don't have the words to thank you enough.'

'Hang on .. I've still got that crown on my head, haven't I...? Come on. Outside for a group pict and then we'll get those stores unloaded. I'll drive the cargo sentinel...'

/////

Later that day, Alice was back in her accommodation. She packed away a few keepsakes from the trip. A bar mat from the Railroad Bar, a menu card from the Fort Davies Canteen, and the pink cardboard crown from fakk knew where.

She couldn't put it off any longer. It was time she sorted this out, one way or another...

She then picked up the data slate and pressed it's activation rune. With minimal swiping she found the chat prompt she saw when the item was first given to her. She then started typing.

>> Good day. Before I go any further with this, would you please answer some questions I have?

The upper tier of the Railyard was now, thanks to the coordinated attacks of the elements of Battlegroup Grimhoff, saturated with battle from end to end. The whole area had been overwhelmed with multiple, idiosyncratic fights; the diversity of which had given their enemies such a plethora of dilemmas that it was unsurprising they were as good as defeated. No sooner had they thought they had a response to a Cadian airborne assault, they were then dealing with Krieg super heavy assault gun fire, Taronian precision artillery fire, Khemetic infantry assault, Armageddon infiltration squads and a Kytekan light armour thunder run all at once.

It was in the support of the latter that Lt Colonel Logar Heath now directed his 1st Battalion into the Railyard. As usual he led the assault from the front. Perhaps unusually for a Kytekan armour commander at this stage of the war, he still operated from a Leman Russ; eschewing the Rogal Dorn heavies that were appearing in the regiment in steadily increasing numbers. This brought him disapproval from the CO, who was very much a Rogal Dorn man and made it clear that he preferred the command suite in the heavier tank, but Heath preferred the flexibility and reliability the smaller tank offered.

And this operation with it's need for speed and fighting in tight industrial terrain, was a case in point. With his flanking companies engaging the front line and keeping their heads down, Heath aimed his strike company at the checkpoint that had been taken earlier in the battle and sped through it. Once through the lines his forces spread out and in a dozen or more platoon scale engagements, gutted the remaining central defences and reinforced Naismith's Hippogriff Squadron at the Macro Elevator.

It was in the effort of getting to this embattled unit that his tank platoon from his HQ Company was suddenly engaged...

*CRACK!*

That sound was immediately followed by the all too familiar bang-whoosh of a Leman Russ tank suffering an ammunition explosion; as one of his flanking battle tanks detonated and its turret was blown clear into the air. Just like that, Six Kytekans dead.

Heath snarled into his command vox 'Contact right! Contact right! High velocity gun. Find that fakker!'

Immediately the driver of Heath's tank, a Leman Russ Demolisher with the name 'Deathstrike', pulled the control sticks back and slewed the tank to the right. Both Heath and his gunner scanned for the target amongst the rail sheds and rolling stock that had been blasted by Taronian earthshaker shells. It would only be so long before their enemy reloaded and fired again.

'Where's the damned infantry?' Heath returned to the vox 'Rampage 8 1 this is Rampage Actual... Get into the rail sheds to your north and clear them out!' In immediate compliance, a chimera platoon broke through into the area and deployed it's dismounts to advance into the complex. Suddenly one of the transports visibly shuddered as it took a direct hit from the same high velocity weapon as before. With smoke pouring from its hatches, its surviving crew baled out and went to ground, dragging a badly wounded crewman with them.

Witnessing the death of the Chimera, Heath now knew what was out there, just not where it was. Still on the vox, he now yelled. 'There's a Vanquisher in these sheds. Twenty five seconds before it reloads and lays onto another one of us. Get out of the open, into the yard and find it!'

The three remaining Kytekan tanks spread out and trundled into the yard with both of the flanking tanks firing their battle cannons speculatively into buildings that looked like they concealed the enemy. Meanwhile mechanised infantry swarmed into the sheds from the south; the sporadic crackle of lasrifles indicating some minimal peer resistance from enemy infantry.

Fifteen seconds....

He had to hand it to the traitor, they were good. Really good to both hide their hull and conceal two vanquisher canon shots from view. Firing that weapon invariably came with a visible flash and a cloud of dust. Heath's driver piloted Deathstrike around an upturned rail wagon to face one of the main storage sheds.

Five seconds...

Heath looked around the yard, trying to triangulate the position where the traitor could have fired at both the Russ and the Chimera. There was nothing.

Then there was a glint... Sunlight reflecting from a targeting lens, deep inside the storage shed in front.

Zero seconds....

'Target! Enemy tank. Storage shed back right-hand side! All weapons, fire!'

*CRACK!*

Heath didn't know precisely what happened at this point, only that his tank was mortally wounded. The vanquisher canon shell tore through Deathstrike's upper glacis, passed through the driver, loader and fighting compartment to embed itself in the engine block. Heath felt the heat and smelt the smoke before he ever saw the flames.

'All guns fire! Fire then bale out!'

The sponson multi melta gunners were the first to respond, laying their thermal weapons on target and firing them with their characteristic hiss-roar reverberating through the dying tank. Both then abandoned their weapons and escaped through the flank loading hatches.

The demolisher gunner calmly laid her cannon onto target then fired, rocking the whole tank as the 'dustbin' munition was lobbed in a high arc at the target. Her duty done, she scrambled through the shredded remains of the loader to reach the port loading hatch and safety.

Simultaneously, the hull lascannon gunner, his right side covered in the viscera of the driver, aimed at the target, barely visible in the gloom of the shed, and fired. With a hellish scream, the lascannon speared out at the traitor tank. His duty fulfilled, he crawled through the smoke and blood to flop out of the port loading hatch.

Heath watched the effect through the periscope. One melta beam reduced the hull weapon port to molten slag. The lascannon shot burned through the side of the turret and the Demolisher shell blew the starboard track off. He was about to lift himself out of the coupola to safety when he realised something.

The traitor tank wasn't knocked out. The lethal vanquisher cannon lifted slightly, an indicator it was being reloaded, and the turret started traversing onto the next target.

With the engine fire in his own tank starting to lap at the demolisher ready ammunition, and only himself left alive in the tank, Heath had only one option left to save his command from further destruction. Hitting the commander override button and flicking the switch above the green telltale light for the HK Missile, Heath placed the targeter reticule over the enemy tank and achieved a target lock. Looking at the traitor tank made his eyes burn. It was it the smoke in his own tank? It didn't matter any more.

'For the Emperor... Fakk you heretic....'

Heath pulled the release trigger and the missile left the launch rail, corkscrewing into the shed.

A second later two explosions shook the battlefield. As the engine fire in Deathstrike touched off the ready ammunition, the HK Missile struck the turret ring of the traitor vanquisher. Both tanks died in a mass of sympathetic explosions that tore their hulls asunder.

The surviving crew of Deathstrike could only look on wordlessly at the sacrifice of their commander. But now there were no more enemy between them and the macro elevator. Over the following hour, the dismounted crew watched as two more armoured squadrons echeloned through the yard to secure the macro elevator, followed swiftly by a battery of Basilisks that would be used to fire directly down onto the secondary objectives in the basin.

A Leman Russ officer to the end, Lt Colonel Heath died to see this objective achieved.

"Nihil sine sacrificio crescit*. (Nothing Grows Without Sacrifice) - motto of the Republic of Kytek.

*Victoria Ex Officio Crescit* (Victory Grows from Duty) - The motto of the Kytek Republican Guard.

The history of Kytek goes back to it's settlement in the Dark Age of Technology, but like so many worlds, its history only has any degree of lucidity from its rediscovery in the Great Crusade. The one fact that is certain is that it has always been an Agri World. And one of extraordinary productivity thanks to is high technology base. Its main produce is cereal crops grown on its land mass, and seaweed grown in its shallow seas. These crops form the vast majority of the planets tithe and are distributed across the Hecuba Cluster and beyond. Kytek is rarely asked to contribute troops; an Astra Militarum raising is typically a once in a lifetime occurrence.

The system is located to the galactic west of Ultramar, and that realm has a strongly disputed claim to Kytek. The planet itself has a stable water weather system, a temperature range of -15 to +40°c and two main continents. Its mass is equal to 1.3 Terran units and its gravity is marginally higher than Terran standard, which is responsible for the greater than average size and strength of its human stock. The planet goes round its Blue Giant star once every 2.4 Terran years in a stable orbit. That star bombards Kytek with a higher than average level of radiation which aids the growth of flora but reduces the life expectancy of all fauna; including the human population.

Kytek boasts a single minor orbital structure where all interstellar trade concentrates. There is one small city on each continent where governance is concentrated, but the majority of the planets 500m souls are scattered in small communities called 'Collectives'. Each collective is named for its primary function and numbered. Eg. Admin Collective 3, Agri Collective 370, Storage Collective 66, Trade Collective 13 etc.

The population, society and culture of Kytek revolves around planting, crop rotation and harvesting, as well as the collective one is raised in. The collective function and heredity dictates the caste, or 'Strata' of any individual. This above all else is the foundation of the identity of Kytekans and the planet operates by the way the strata interact. There are many strata but the three primary strata are detailed as follows:

Admin Strata: These are the mid to high level business managers and political governors. They are highly educated political and strategic thinkers and the closest the Kytekans have to a nobility. Character examples: Colonel Kyle Marsen, Lt Colonel Sam Benson, and (as a very unusual case) Cpl Alice Mack.

Merchantile Strata: These are the Merchants, traders and logisticians of Kytekan society. They are typically urbane, erudite people for whom communication and cunning are their primary skills. Character examples: Lt Colonel Jake Harrington, Lt Jamie Hammond, Lt Isobel Dora, Lt Colonel Gregory Sartens (Deceased).

Agri Strata: these are the farmers, herders and cultivators of Kytekan society and make up around 85% of the population. The overwhelming majority of Kytekan soldiery come from this strata. They are typically stoic, practical and consciencious people. Character examples: Lt Colonel Janis Falker, Major Katie Monash, Captain Marcus Chambers, Sergeant Major Stefan Talbot, Sergeant Maria Juno, Private Cassie Lex.

Ratlings: something like 3% of the population of Kytek are abhumans of the Homo Sapiens Minimus genotype. Although they hold nominal strata status they are effectively an underclass in Kytekan society that offer a wide variety of services other strata do not that frequently cross the border into criminality. These can be mustered as abhuman auxilia units in Kytekan Astra Militarum raisings where their stealth, cunning and resourcefulness are highly valued, even though it comes at a price of enduring their criminal impulses.

Politically, Kytek is self described as a Republic. On the surface this is an accurate statement. Kytek has no nobility and all groupings of Kytekans, be that a whole collective or a sports team, elect their leaders by majority vote. However, in reality the process is tightly controlled by the Admin Strata. Principally elections above a certain level need admin approval to go ahead and then only with approved nominations. Many nominations are 'stalking horses' that make those elections a sham. Most critically, only Admin Strata are allowed to hold leadership above Collective level. This plus the hereditary nature of strata make the Admin Strata a nobility in all but name and their own tightly controlled electoral processes.

This political structure bleeds into the military structure of the Kytek Republican Guard (KRG), the name by which all PDF and any Astra Militarum regiments go. There are three standing KRG units: the 1st and 2nd are standing PDF units. The 3rd is a training and administrative regiment. Subsequent numbers are used for regiments raised for Astra Militarum service.

Regiments are filled with volunteer recruits, although the concept of a volunteer is sometimes a loose one. For instance it is common for a convicted criminal to be 'volunteered' into PDF service. Astra Militarum raisings are so rare as to become carnival events, and there is never a lack of strong Agri Strata stock to fill the ranks. As it's their right, soldiers from squad to platoon level elect their leaders (with the usual restrictions placed in them by higher ranks). Unsurprisingly, Admin Strata fill the higher military echelons and only they can command a Regiment. Indeed it is rare to see any other strata in command of a battalion.

The decent educational base of the population plus their technical understanding allows Kytekan units to perform a wide variety of combat roles. Cadian sourced equipment patterns, training and doctrine is used by the Kytekan units, the latter two being frequently taught by Cadians. This gives Kytekan soldiers a very Astra Militarum standard appearance, with plain green fatigues and dark green armour. The only distinction that is typically seen is the round silver pin badge with the scythe emblem of Kytek worn on the lapel. These are a gift to each soldier by the Republic Government and are treasured items.

"DOUGHNUT"

The code word for Phase 1 success. The Kytekan ratlings had a simple code system. All code words were food associated, and the nicer the food, the more positive the message. This word transmitted over vox was enough to trigger Phase 2. In the Regimental HQ, Lt Colonel Falker simply nodded once. The staffer on the Master Vox nodded. 'Riever 1, execute.'

There was an immediate answer. 'Riever 1 complies.' With that, a fast Squadron of 14 Hippogriffs, an entirely new platform for the Kytekans, put the pedal to the metal and drove at full speed to the checkpoint. This was followed by 14 Tauroxes, carrying a whole company of Assault Pioneers protected by one of the precious psychic nullifiers and led by Chief Commissar Pasco.

This stage of the plan was far from simple: take advantage of the surprise and confusion to go through a breach in the enemy line that they didn't even know existed yet to storm the macro elevator before they knew there was a threat to it. One last minute change in the plan was made based on the uncertainty caused by the moral hazard outbreak in Phase 1. A reserve platoon of Maypalans in Tauroxes led by Confessor Silas followed the fast column to reinforce the breach, confirm the situation on the ground and detain any surviving ratling auxilia pending purity testing.

From the start, Phase 2 was a race. The Hippogriffs and mounted Assault Pioneers were in a race to get to the macro elevator. The assault pioneers at the check point were in a race to remove any obstacles before the mobile force got there, the Taronian gun line was in a race to get their shells to prosecute targets on the route to a precise timing, and all were in a race to complete their objectives before the traitors could understand exactly what the situation was.

Captain Naismith, callsign Reiver 1, kissed the votive he had wrapped around his wrist. 'Keep up if you can!!' His driver sent the Hippogriff lurching out of cover and into a headlong charge at the checkpoint. A fast column of some 28 other vehicles followed just as fast. Knowing what was coming, the assault pioneers at the checkpoint redoubled their efforts to clear the obstacles from the road. The checkpoint barrier was hacked apart with a power axe and dragged away just in time for the first Hippogriff to come hurtling through.

It was at this point that the first Taronian artillery shells started to fall on targets behind the lines and the ratling vox thieves in the convoy gave false traitor reports of attacks to the north whilst the south was all clear. Exactly the opposite of their actual circumstances. Unlike their unfortunate colleagues at the checkpoint, the psionic nullifier allowed them to keep their heads, although they had to suffer the indignity of operating with a gun pointed at them at all times. Although there was a delay on targeting some of the enemy units, the overall effect expedited the advance of the attack column. (OOC: Based on Side's previous rolls on this strike, I'm buffing my roll +2).

The macro elevator was in a large compound with a light perimeter wall, with checkpoints and sandbag gun pits on key approaches. The traitors had quite reasonably profiled the likely force to attack the elevator to be elite forces on foot, or an airborne assault. So there were a glut of heavy stubbers and heavy bolters, but not a lot in the way of anti tank weapons. Therefore, unfortunately for them they were ill prepared for the swarm of Hippogriffs that eliminated the defences on one of the more isolated stretches of compound wall. One key gun pit was blasted apart by Vigilator cannons at range whilst a traitor Leman Russ covered in ornate murals of Calix parked on a key junction was stalked and blown apart by a point blank melta canon shot delivered by a Hippogriff driving down an alleyway. This activity was conducted amidst the confusion of the artillery and vox thief activity and so their luck still held. Unfortunately this drive had come at the cost of a Hippogriff and a Taurox with it's dismounts being lost to anti tank mines, and another Hippogriff being lost to the lascannon of the enemy Leman Russ prior to its destruction.

It was to the traitors' surprise that the first they saw of the loyalists in the compound was a Taurox ramming its way through the compound wall with a dozen others in hot pursuit. But not enough traitors saw it and they were unable to raise a significant enough alarm before they fell to loyalist fire. The only alarm to get through was immediately countermanded by a mimicking rattling vox thief. The assault pioneers disembarked and split off to clear the buildings and take control of the critical infrastructure that dominated the compound.

It was at this point where the traitors only mistake of any significance was brutally exploited: they had placed the demolition guard in too obvious a place; namely in the control room for the macro elevator, which was the first target for the assault pioneers led by Chief Commissar Pasco. Whilst the control staff were cut down by shotgun fire, Pasco launched into the room like a black thunderbolt and literally mulched the traitor engineer officer in charge of the demolitions with his power fist. It was a simple matter for one of the Pioneers to remove the bloodstained firing controls to the demolition charges and disarm it.

The primary threat to the success of the mission removed, the Kytekans proceeded to clear the compound of the enemy forces within whilst the Hippogriff Squadron split up and wreaked havoc amongst the enemy surrounding it. The pioneers took care to remove the demolition packs from the infrastructure whenever they found them, but their key for now was to hold the compound until relieved. Taking over the enemy defences and with the platoon with the psionic nullifier guarding the elevator, Pasco gave the success code over the vox.

'All call signs: SHOVEL. I say again: SHOVEL. Out.'

Pasco offered a prayer of thanks to the Emperor. Surely he must have been watching over this operation. Against all the odds, Phase 2 was a success.

(12+2 / 17)

The war horn and the retina -burning flashes of light from the anti god engine weaponry which was being discharged to the north was the prompt for the real main event; and an attack of a very un-Kytekan nature.

The target was the check point. The main road and rail entrance to the rail yard to the south of the main fortified area, which overlooked it. As a target it looked like a bad prospect. It was fortified by a Traitor Guard force who had built a mini fortification of sand bag bunkers around a block house. It was also overwatched by the major fortification to the north. The soldiers in charge of it were no fools. They knew they faced the Kytekan 4th and had hardened their position with overhead cover, vehicle traps and anti tank mines. Their anti tank weapons interlocked their fields of fire. Their anti infantry weapons dovetailed with this set up. Guards were vigilant. Patrols frequent. They did everything right. They were as prepared as they could be.

Perhaps their only failing, if it could be called that, was that they underestimated how creative the Kytekans could be if ordered to do a mission they were not suited to.

The Kytekan assault force was deeply unorthodox. It consisted of a platoon of ratling skirmishers and a platoon of assault pioneers. The former expert infiltrators, the latter expert raiders. They had spent all night steadily getting into position, dodging the fairly competent patrols of their enemy to get into a position to attack.

The war horn sounded and whole gigawatts of energy were released on the strong point to the north. A show of heat and light that was fundamentally attention grabbing. If you were not vaporised, that is. The checkpoint reaction force crashed out to see the attack was elsewhere.

And to this backdrop of Astra Militarum trademark overkill, the ratlings started their very different sort of attack.

A returning patrol was cut down by sniper fire.

A sentry died to the silent switchblade of a hardbit.

A bunker was cleared by a couple of infiltrators emptying their surpressed auto pistols into its tight confines.

And this undetected breach in the traitor defences was enough for the Assault Pioneers to pour into. Before the traitors knew it, their defences and support areas were swarming with two very different, but lethal enemies. For all their well organised preparations, the traitors died isolated in ones and twos, hacked into by hatchet wielding engineer raiders or bushwhacked by quiet, diminutive infiltrators with silenced weapons.

In the control point, the vox operator on duty suddenly heard nothing but static... Then a message. 'Checkpoint 1 reports, all clear.' It was his own voice in his own protocol. His own vox wouldn't respond....

The sinking feeling of horror only lasted a few seconds before he heard another voice... 'Hi ho...'

He turned to receive a sawn off shotgun blast to the chest which threw him against the sandbag wall. He gurgled a cry for help, but no one was coming. The off shift were already dead; their throats cut in their beds.

Thumper reloaded the shotgun. 'Room clear boss.'

Dodger walked into the room, wiping his bloody switchblade on his trouser leg. Behind him came Shiny, who was still talking into her vox thief voxset; mimicking the routine enemy communications in a disturbingly similar voice to the late traitor vox operator.

But then Thumper stopped loading his gun. The shell dropped from his nerveless fingers.

'Love...S-She understands. She... Loves me. She wants them to know.

Dodger looked at Thumper quizzically. 'What Thumper? Make sense...'

A gormless smile spread over Thumper's face. 'She... Wants them to know...' And like a flash, Thumper lunged for the enemy vox set...

'Thumper! Stop! Are you out of your fakking mind??'

Thumper grabbed the handset and keyed the channel open. And Dodger made a choice. He leveled his stub pistol and shot his friend in the chest.

But even as Thumper fell lifeless to the floor, Dodger heard the same disturbing refrain coming from right behind him.

'She loves us, Dodger... You'll understand...' Shiny started to retune her vox set...

Dodger spun around and pistol whipped his girlfriend in the face, sending her sprawling unconscious to the ground.

Horrified, Dodger ran out of the control room to find the others. Only to find Blaster hunched over the bloodstained form of Sneaker, a bloody metal pipe in his hands. Dodger snarled and leveled his pistol at Blaster, but Blaster dropped the pipe and turned towards his Fixer.

'Dodger! I had to do it! She went mad! She shot at me! Dodger please! I'm alright!'

Dodger lowered the pistol. 'It's the moral hazard! Blaster, come on. We have to warn the others.'

The two ratlings returned to the control room. Dodger grabbed the handset on Shiny's vox set, turned it to the friendly channel and literally shouted into the net. 'All call signs! Moral hazard discovered! My squad mates have just turned on me!'

But listening in for even a few seconds made it evident that this was a force-wide problem.

''.. Cease fire! Friendlies! *Zip-crack* No! Belay that... Open fire!..."

'... The ratties have gone nuts..'

'... You little bastards! Fakk you traitors...'

'... You love me eh? Love this...*bang*...'

All was confusion for a couple of critical minutes as compromised personnel, all of which were ratlings, were fought and neutralised. When Dodger and the Assault Pioneer commander finally took stock of the situation, they realised that they now held the checkpoint and the enemy seemed none the wiser, but the moral threat had come one ball hair away from blowing the whole mission wide open.

Dodger went back to the prone form of shiny and opened a link to the rest of the regiment.

'All call signs this is Robber 1 Actual. "DOUGHNUT" I say again. "DOUGHNUT".

The code word for Phase 1 success given, Dodger slumped to the ground. His crew, and many other crews besides, were in pieces. But the objective was theirs.

(14/2)

Colonel Marsen looked at the map spread out on the table and sighed. His regiment was really not built for this kind of operation. The problem was not taking the macro elevator. The Kytek 4th could likely take the whole complex if required. The problem was taking the macro elevator intact. His unit had mass and firepower, as well as speed. What it didn't have was the airborne assault assets that would have been ideal for this operation. But what he did have was a mass of attention grabbing tanks, some very fast light vehicles, and a cadre of expert infiltrators. With the aid of his staff, he drew up the plans.

Marsen reviewed the plan one last time in his head. Put simply, the Krieg 54th Superheavy Regiment and his own Third Battalion would draw attention by attacking the strong point to their front. A credible feint to make the enemy think the blow would be landing on the obvious spot in the line where the Super Heavies were pointed.

Whilst their eyes were on that, the actual attack would be an infiltration. In Phase 1 , a single strong point, the check point on the road, would be eliminated under cover of pre dawn, the blast of Krieger long range titanic weaponry and vox thief interference. The force to do it would be a lethal combination of Assault Pioneers and Ratling infiltrators. That would make a break in the line, and Phase 2 could start.

Phase 2 was the incursion of a fast armoured column of the swiftest vehicles in the Kytekan Inventory: a Hippogriff Squadron, a Cavalry Sentinel Squadron and a Company of Assault Pioneers in Tauroxes. These would bypass the break in the line, overrun the macro elevator, deal with any demolition charges and hold until relieved. Every ratling vox thief in the Regiment would be with that force to jam enemy communications and sow fake 'all clear' reports. In this force would be two specialists: Chief Commissar Pasco and Confessor Silas. Present specifically to battle moral threats.

Once the macro elevator was secured, phase 3 would commence, and the whole of the First Battalion would smash its way into the complex; a company of Rogal Dorn heavy tanks in the lead. These would secure a proper breach in the enemy defences, then hammer their way to the macro elevator to secure it in a ring of steel.

Marsen rubbed his eyes. He didn't like this plan. Too complex for it's own good. But it was the only option that kept the macro elevator intact. He pulled the paper order towards himself, sighed, and made his stamp next to the XO's stamp; authorising the plan.

The die has been cast.

It's funny how in the blink of an eye your whole universe can be turned upside down. Alice 'Red-Eye' Mack kind of felt that way at the moment.

Alice almost stumbled into her quarters by the flight pan in Bracar. She dropped the old rusty paint can she had been carrying around and flopped onto her bed. It had been one bloody hell of a day. It had started right here, with her happily studying whilst her crew were off flying the kind of mission where a loadmaster was not needed. It ended with both those crew in the hospital, the airframe in the repair shed, and Alice covered in machine oil, vomit and the excreta of a dozen people.

Oh, and she was apparently now a Vallyran informant... Alice stared at the paint can and the VIM data slate inside with utter hatred. For a while she just lay on her side staring at the paint can. Her mind numbed by the events of the day.

Then she thought something. Then another thing. Then another. Until the bones of a plan started to appear. And with it came a resolve. A solid, unshakeable resolve.

At some point she must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, it was daylight and her alarm was going off. She stopped the beeping, got up and walked to the mirror. She looked and smelled like the contents of one of Gwenn's bedpans... But that was the most solvable of her problems. A shower and some clean fatigues soon solved that. Her next problem was still in the paint can. She opened the can and pulled the data slate out. She'd sooner handle a bed pan. It was put into her pocket without her even looking at it.

Alice then had a note to write. She got her notepad out and started writing. Alice had to choose a side; the choice was either the Vallyran Intelligence and her own wellbeing, or the Taronians and her own integrity. There was a middle ground somewhere between those things; there always was. But that was a choice too. But to Alice the choice was obvious.

____________

To Major Dahra,

Good day Ma'am, please indulge me in this unusual method, but I cannot say what I need to aloud.

I have been compromised by the VIM. I am carrying a data slate of theirs which I assume is a bug and tracking device. They have offered me the parts needed to fix the Rocinante and more besides if I report things of interest to them. I will resist taking anything from them because once I do I will be entirely their asset. All they can do at the moment is threaten my life and I intend to keep that as the status quo for as long as I am able.

To that end, do not discuss anything in my presence, or expose me to anything that you don't want the VIM to know. Assume that any electronic means of contacting me is compromised.

I intend to find the parts I need for the Rocinante by other means. I wouldn't trust anything supplied by them not to be filthy with bugs and once they expedite a supply request of that magnitude linked to me, they've got me on the hook and can eliminate me whenever they want.

I hope this note is proof enough of my loyalty.

Corporal Alice Mack.

9th Taronian Regiment.

PS. I need a Cargo 8 for the next few days.

____________________

Alice then ran into the Headquarters of the 9th Taronian Regiment and handed Major Dahra the note.

'Message for you, Ma'am.'

Alice smiled.

Lt Colonel Jake Harrington, Chief Quartermaster and commander of the Support Battalion of the Kytek 4th had also been assigned as commander of FOB Abundance when the rest of the regiment went north to Bracar and beyond. Abundance, built to hold the whole regiment, was now a ghost town. It now held little more than the rear footprint of the support battalion, an ever increasing number of vehicles requiring complex repair and maintenance protocols, those troops recovering from serious injuries and a huge quantity of stores and replacement vehicles.

But now with the recent resupply convoy in orbit and an unprecedented amount of material making planet fall, Harrington went to the landing fields around Communion armed with a shopping list of some of the more modern Astra Militarum equipment to supply his regiment with. After all, it was a simple fact that the Kytek 4th had initially been equipped with what was essentially refurbished war scrap from the Indomitus Crusade. They had been equipped by the Forge World of Tritax. And that was what the Forge World of Tritax did. Refurbish war scrap.

Driving to the landing fields in an appropriated ground car, what greeted Harrington was an embarrassment of riches compared to what he was used to. Unlike the usual trickle supply of a few vehicles here and there that he had been forced to manage in the past, there were now literally acres of land holding specific types of brand new equipment.

The first thing on his list was the Centaur RSV. This simple and very reliable vehicle was to replace the popular, but very high maintenance and increasingly temperamental Taurox fleet in certain units that covered a lot of ground. A simple requisition form was all it took to secure 150 of these vehicles plus their spares packages for the regiment.

So straightforward were these vehicles that if a soldier could drive a Taurox or even a cargo 8, they could drive a Centaur well enough. And so later that same day, a steady stream of Centaurs left the landing fields towards the marshalling spaces in FOB Abundance for onward movement to the Regiment. But before they went, Support Battalion put each vehicle through a process: each was checked for faults, tools and spares were accounted for, fuel and ammunition loaded, and finally each had its production codex grey paint overpainted in green with brown stripes. The final touch was to stencil the Regimental emblem onto the flanks.

However, Harrington knew that the Centaurs would be the easy part of the problem. The more difficult part, both in terms of logistics and unit integration was the next item on the agenda: 50 x Hippogriff AFVs. Again finding them and signing for fifty of them was easy. Now he had to move them. And no one in the regiment, yet alone the support battalion really knew how to drive one. It took a whole cycle but eventually enough AFV crew were found in the rehabilitation camp whose injuries still allowed them to drive, to move the vehicles in a few runs back and forth. By necessity they learned the specifics in the driving seat, but the Hippogriff was fortunately a fairly forgiving vehicle, as long as the driver respected the part steer, part skid shift steering, and the remarkable speed they were capable of.

Once the armoured cars were back in Abundance, the next problem was to crew the vehicles. Unlike the Centaur this was not only a new vehicle, but a whole new capability. A new unit would have to be built to use them with soldiers combed out of the unit from elsewhere. Then those soldiers would have to be organised, trained and then integrated into the war machine of the regiment. Stores, spare parts and ammunition for the unique Vigilator and Chiron cannons would also need to be found and supplied.

Thus followed over the next week a mass of organisational back and forth as suitable troops were found to work the new vehicles out, then train other troops on what they had learned. After much disagreement between the battalion commanders on where the loss should fall, it took the intervention of Colonel Marsen himself to stop the squabbling of his commanders. Eventually the troops were released; many from the front line, to form the cadre that would start working on the Hippogriff. This included the first Hippogriff Squadron Commander; a recon chimera leader by the name of Captain Fergie Naismith.

Although deeply resentful of being torn away from his command, Captain Naismith nevertheless threw himself into forming the new unit, working out how to operate the armoured cars, testing what they could do and finding the existing doctrine on their use in combined arms regiments. Another week of constant activity out with the Hippogriffs and something that resembled a Squadron of 14 Hippogriffs had formed. Still very uncertain about the actual combat capabilities of the vehicle, but sufficiently ready to go and find out.

So therefore, nearly three weeks after the first Hippogriffs were acquired by the Regiment, the first Wheeled Recon Squadron rolled up the line to join the regiment up at Bracar. Ready and eager to prove the worth of their vehicles and themselves. Meanwhile they left an experienced enough cadre to train up the next intake of Hippogriff crews. Given enough time and the right troop allocations, the Kytek 4th would soon force generate three Squadrons of the new armoured cars.

There were many in the Regiment who were sceptical about the new AFVs, especially those exponents of the Sentinel. It was true that the sentinel had advantages: it was a known quantity, it only needed a single pilot, and it could handle any terrain. However, many of the more forward thinkers in the regiment saw the potential for the Hippogriffs. They seemed more mechanically reliable, faster, tougher, easier to hide in the desert and far better armed. Plus their potential for wider escort roles was greater.

But all of this would be a matter of debate until they saw combat. And that was certainly on the horizon.

The staff of the Headquarters of the Kytek 4th were by Kytekan standards an unhappy bunch. Besides the constant pressure and huge work load that the oversized combined arms regiment generated, they had to deal with the Regimental XO. These people had learned long ago how to manage the stormy mood of their boss; when to intervene, when not to and when to just stay out of her eyeline.

One look at Lt Colonel Falker as she returned from the Taronian Brigade Conference and they knew they had to take cover. With a furious look on her face, Falker bellowed out an admixture of rage, frustration and instruction.

'Hey, guess what? We had a meeting and after such exemplary professional examples as a couple of Kasrkin brawling outside, a Regimental commander being shot and arrested and a bunch of commissars almost coming to blows over what to do next, the Taronians decided to do the square root of zero about their reconnaissance screen getting mulched out to the east. But apparently they'll support us if we want to do something. No, I have no idea what that means either.'

'Seriously, we are too far behind schedule as it is. If we lose the momentum we gained by taking the encampment, the enemy will have enough breathing space to respond, even counter attack. They have already got a recon screen to boop the encampment. Our pickets chased them off, but we have to do something before they formulate an organised response.'

Falker scanned the assembled staff. 'I want to know what the Taronians found out there, and I want it attacked. Three courses of action. I want them plus a recommended action in the hour. Go.'

The staff had the work done in 43 minutes. When Falker reviewed the options, she was mildly impressed with the staff work. But only one course of action was really viable: a recon in force with walkers and AFVs to find targets for long range rocket artillery to bombard. Falker signed off on the course of action, and annotated in pencil that a Fire Brigade unit be prepared to roll out to support a withdraw, and to inform the Inquisition and Taronian Brigade of the plan. This meant standing up Captain Chambers and his company, and the liaison officer, Lt Dora.

With the fury already bled out of her system, Falker stamped the plan with her mark. Below the mark she made another note. 'Good work, team.'

Inside of another hour the orders went out with the Commanders stamp alongside the XOs. Cogitator printers chattered and scrawled out their missives, and Falker's will was instigated.

The task was given to Captain Mike Abel of the 3rd Recon Squadron. A formation recon unit designed to screen the movements of whole battalions. Consisting of two Troops of Scout Sentinels, One Troop of Armoured Cavalry Sentinels, and a platoon of recon troops mounted in Tauroxes. This was not his usual sort of job. As he read the orders in the back of his Command Taurox, he let out a sigh and turned to his vox op.

'Warning order to deploy in three hours. Orders here in one hour. Mission: extended recon in force to make contact with the enemy for artillery prosecution. Expect trouble.'

Abel reread the final control measure: "No final approach until external agency and HQ approval given."

'Yeah. Expect real trouble...'

At the same time, the same order was being held by Captain Chambers, whose 1st Company was the closest to the mission objective. His reaction was somewhat different. He turned to his vox op.

'Hilda, get back to HQ and request a delayed timing of two hours for our backstop. Justification is that if we all move at the same time, we will blow any chance the recon has of surprise. We know there are enemy recon elements out there. I've got a dead enemy scout car, a sentinel pilot in the sick bay and a sentinel in the workshops to prove it.'

Hilda sent the message. Within another couple of minutes, the change of plan was approved, but modified to +1 hour. Chambers nodded. 'Okay people. Orders group in an hour. Warning order out now. Full company operational mobilisation in three hours. Overwatch and backstop to formation recon.... And tell the Taronian 9th of our intent.'

In the Battle Group Liaison Office, Lt Dora read the same order. And immediately made another two copies. She ran over to the Taronian Brigade HQ and gave a copy to the first Taronian staffer she saw. 'Kytek 4th's compliments... Operational orders. For Major Koragath.'

She was quickly away to find a representative of the Abraxas forces, for which she only had some vague directions and no point of contact whatsoever. Not to worry though, she was the Regimental liaison officer for a reason; she could get along with anybody...

In a matter of hours, the Kytekan forces moved out to their now staggered timings. Abel's 3rd Recon Squadron and Chambers' 1st Mech Company deployed fully to the starting points, waiting for the signal to advance and start the operation. Meanwhile on the artillery gun line, a battery of twelve Manticore launchers carrying enough firepower to level a small town, waited for the fire mission.

The retaliation strike was ready...

Dawn had broken over the captured traitor encampment a couple of hours ago, throwing it's weak light over a scene that looked like a battleground, but wasn't. Just like a battlefield there were prostrate soldiers scattered all around along with other detritus. But instead of being morally wounded, the soldiers from numerous regiments were merely mortally drunk and the detritus was bottles, tins and broken glass.

A lone Kytekan was on her feet, staggering out of her tent holding a bugle in one hand and her pounding head in the other. It was time for her first duty of the day. She put the instrument up her lips and blew the first three bars of the Revelle... And immediately regretted it as a boot was expertly thrown at her head from the opposite tent to stop the noise. 'Shut that fakking racket up! I'm dying here...!'

As the bugle sounded the quarter revellie, one member of the Regiment strode through the mess with a look somewhere between distain and amusement... Commissar Angelika Rammke had learned to be a loose kind of disciplinarian from her mentor, Chief Commissar Pasco. To guide and inspire, and punish in a manner commensurate to the infringement. She couldn't help but think that if Pasco were here, he would likely still be at the bar drinking the rest of the unit under the table.

She ignored soldiers from other regiments and kicked a couple of sleeping Kytekans awake as she walked past. They might be drunk but there was no infringement as long as they were on parade on time. So guidance it was, stern, pointed guidance: 'Get up, get cleaned up, get some recaff and get on parade, soldiers, or it'll be the lash for you...'

The bleary eyes soldiers both nodded weakly and walked back to their billet to get ready.

In the First Company Command Chimera, wrist cronos buzzed and beeped. And heads painfully rose from their less than comfortable resting places. Private Lex rose groggily to a sitting position to be presented with a cup of recaff by Sergeant Major Talbot. 'Morning kid. Get that down yer.' Talbot, who appeared to have some bizarrely high capacity for alcohol was seemingly unaffected despite having been blind drunk only a couple of hours ago.

Lex could not say the same... The inside of the Chimera was spinning as she rose. 'By Saint Celestine's holy corset, I feel like there's an earthshaker battery in my head... oh... oh no.....' Lex quickly grabbed a nearby ammo tin and threw up violently into it. Talbot, who was still holding the recaff, shrugged and drank it himself. He had a job to do first.

He walked out of the Chimera, leaving behind the still retching Lex and headed towards the place where the company ratling auxilia were shacked up. Sure enough, a bunch of very groggy looking ratlings already had a pot of something cooking that filled the air with fantastic aromas. He addressed their Sergeant, who was also the known fixer for this particular crew. 'Hey, Scamp! I've got a job for you. Obtain something for me within the next couple of hours and I'll accidentally lose interest in the black hole on the ration account.'

Scamp simply looked up with a grin that was almost criminal...

Wiping her face and honestly feeling much better now, Lex looked around to see a figure in an officers jacket sprawled or on the opposite bench seat. 'Ah, at least our officer made it back. No wait... You're not my officer...'

Lieutenant Jamie Hammond raised his head slowly and blinked a few times before he looked around. 'Oh crap... Where am I....? Oh, hi Lex.' He rose to his elbows. He groaned, clearly moving his head was a big mistake. '... And I'll give you one guess where your officer is...'

In a tent within the tented camp set up by the Taronian engineers, Captain Chambers opened one eye to the half-arsed bugle call. His eyes took a while to focus but eventually he was able to make sense of the numbers on his wrist crono. This was made doubly difficult as his watch was on the arm that was pinned down by Captain Blimey, who still appeared to be sleeping soundly with her head on his shoulder.

Chambers yawned and put his head back on the pillow. There was plenty of time yet, and ironically his first engagement of the day was a meeting with Captain Blimey anyway. He might have had a crushing headache and he had absolutely no idea where his cap ended up, but he was hopelessly content.

However, not all the Kytekans were Hors de Combat. Some of them, like the Scout Sentinel pilots, were out on patrol. The swift, sure footed walkers strode northwards until they noticed something in the dunes just outside of weapons range of the camp.

Tracks... Ground sign... Clearly the camp had been targeted by enemy recon during the party.... Sergeant Genko scanned to the north with his magnoculars and frowned.

The war was still on...