u/Thatsidechara_ter

Rrr... rrrrr... rrrrrrrrrr-

The 2 twin engines of the Rocinante suddenly screamed to life in a cacophony of noise- it was pure music to the crew's ears, and they all cheered wildly. The Techpriests who had done a lot of the actual work to repair the Taronian Valkyrie simply gave a prayer of thanks to the Omnissish off in the corner.

"Right, now that she's fixed we have our orders! Pack up your shit, we're moving out!" Kraken addressed his Fitter team; then he looked to Boxer, Pitch and Red-Eye. "I assume you three'll be flying there- we'll follow you with the Cargo-8 and trailer."

"Great! We'll see you up north Kraken!" Pitch said as she bunched up her dyed hair into a blue ponytail, fitting it under her flight helmet and running for the cockpit; it seemed a bit comical knowing that Boxer's hair was also dyed blue under that flight helmet of his. "Alice! Let's go!"

The gunship had already been fully fueled and armed, ready for the flight north. Boxer of all people seemed especially eager to get off the ground after so many weeks, flying through his pre-flight checks much faster than the other 2. Alice had to make sure the crates of supplies and spares fastened in the back wouldn't budge, and Boxer had made a special request that they be double-strapped. She could guess why.

"Bracar control, this is callsign Rocinante: we are fully repaired and ready for lift-off, heading north along Track Alpha-9..." Pitch communicated with the city ATCs, and soon enough they were cleared for departure.

No sooner had they reached the runway, not the VTOL tarmac, then Alice felt the punch of afterburners from her crashseat. Boxer went all-out, pushing through the g-forces to lift the heavily-laden Valkyrie off the deck in under half the length of the runway.

He then quickly gained altitude, but only just enough to clear the surrounding sand dunes. He then hit the afterburners again and hammered the way north, Rocinante's rebuilt frame and control surfaces performing perfectly under the strain. They left Bracar and the fitter team's Cargo-8 behind them in the dust, Pitch whooping happily all the way. "Oh Emperor, this feels right!"

It was only a few hours to reach the railyard area, and those few hours were perfect bliss for the Valkyrie crew. As they neared the AO and checked in with local air defenses, they received a communique straight from the Taros 9th's HQ: they were to land and check in immediately for the recommencement of combat operations.

=====

Major Sasha Koragath looked over the artillery grid map of the Leffin Sea Basin. Their side was more or less secure, and various units were now pushing across the giant valley of dried sea floor. That was good... now they had to begin looking to the other side, the island itself.

Those defenses would take significantly more firepower than the mainland had. They would be unable to commit as many units at once to the attack, as the aboveground approaches were suicide and the confined nature of the underground tunnels would bottle up all troops committed; therefore, the Imperials would need to compensate for this with all of the heavy ordnance they could bring to bear.

In simple words: artillery would be king here.

"Get me a list of every artillery commander in the area, and approximate numbers of guns wherever you can please." She said as she looked to Lieutenant Dora, who'd just walked in. "I want to know what kind of firepower we'll be working with."

"Ma'am, the Roci's landing now." A staffer piped up. "And we just got word from our main lift- Commissar Vautte has returned- apparently her mission was a success."

She sighed. "Alright, send them in now, and get me Vautte's sitrep. Planning can wait..."

[OOC: Everyone with artillery near the railyard can jump in here with what guns they have available. I'm planning something for which proper numbers would be helpful... assuming high command agrees but we'll get there]

=====

A small gathering of medics, priests, engineers and support personnel were already accumulating around the cargo lift shaft when Captains Ellie Blimey and Marcus Chambers exited a nearby sideroom, the former still discreetly re-fastening her hair. "Oi Mitch! What's happening?"

"Commissar's back, they killed the witch! And Cappy's with her!" the engineer yelled as he went by.

Her eyebrows rose, and she glanced at Chambers. "Well, that's one of mine... come on."

The 2 officers pushed their way through the crowd as they heard the lift rising from below, and then the clear voice of Vautte yelling, "everyone back, now! Medics and preachers through only!!!"

They exchanged a look. Not good.

The lift finally rose to become level with the rest of the chamber, showing a trio of armored vehicles from the Hydra Company Command Battery, surrounded by perhaps 20-odd Taronians and Cadians. The first thing that was clearly noticeable was that almost every infantryman in the group had a sizable amount of dried blood around their ears... and that there were significantly less of them than the number that had gone down.

Blimey, ignoring the Commissar's orders as she consulted with a Preacher, advanced onto the lift until she saw a familiar face. "Val!"

Captain Tallek-Rodgers, with the help of her gunner and a medic, were lowering what looked like her unconscious Kasrkin husband Hawk down on a stretcher. She turned and smiled- her and the others appeared to not have shattered eardrums. "Ellie! Good to see you!"

"How was it down there?"

"Oh, my Battery had to wait in the main tunnels. The infantry went ahead into the smaller corridors... you'll have to ask them what happened." She answered, still fussing over Hawk.

"Look like a hell of a time... Have you seen my digger? A Corporal?" Blimey asked; Vallorie pointed over towards the comms Chimera nearby.

They found Cappy pretty easily, as she sat collapsed against the Chimera right next to a large Ogryn. Both of them had bleeding ears, and seemed only barely conscious from sheer exhaustion. Cappy had also lost her helmet at some point, leaving a tussled mat of blonde hair stained slightly crimson around the ears. A medic was checking them both over when Blimey kneeled beside him. "Hey doc... how are they?"

"They'll live." He answered as he opened the Ogryn's eyelid with a flashlight, and the Ogryn had the presence to move his head. "Burst eardrums, extreme exhaustion... I'd say they've been through it ma'am, but they made it out the other end okay."

Blimey nodded, evidently relieved, then moved to Cappy. "Hey Corporal, can you hear me... Corporal!"

After a moment she came to, blinking as she looked at the Captain. She smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "Captain... I was back in Tarokeen, in the sewers. Marauders- the Imperium was bombing us again..."

She blinked and shook her head. "...I lost my auspex."

=====

Vallorie watched Blimey and her Kytekan "friend" run off towards the engineer she'd seen, then turned back to Hawk. "Oh Hawk... I'm so proud of you..."

She moved a sweaty strand of hair out of his face. She had promised that they'd talk after railyard operations finished up, and now it seemed that the time had come, except he was now asleep and bleeding from his ears. Not the best environment for a conversation...

"Captain." She looked up again to see Commissar Vautte standing over her. "The Preacher here will need to screen my entire team for Warp corruption, including your husband. He will be taken care of."

She gulped and nodded. "I understand. Is my Battery free to go?"

"You are. But I will find you later for your after-action report."

"Understood. We didn't see much of anything, just listened to the bombardment above and pointed our stablights at the occassional shadow. I think I saw a rodent at one point..." Vallorie trailed off when she noticed Vautte staring off in no particular direction, seemingly not listening. "...Commissar?"

After a moment, she blinked and looked back towards Vallorie. "Ah... right. Get- get that report done."

With that, she walked off. Vallorie watched her go, confused. Then Tannen tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey Val, uh... Lieutenant Cortis is waiting for you."

"Oh. Okay." Vallorie shook her head and got up. "Watch Hawk for me?"

He nodded, and she jogged off to find out that Cortis had a letter for her...

=====

Commissar Atterine Vautte's boots crunched as she stepped over broken glass, splintered decorative wood panels, and bloody human remains- both traitor and loyalist PDF, robed cultists and house servants. She was in some kind of large manor that she did not recognize... but it somehow felt familiar. How was that possible?

The sounds of combat could be heard outside, of roaring and screaming crowds; she didn't bother looking out the window to see them, somehow sensing that they weren't important. There was a door up ahead, just barely cracked open.

holstering her pistol, Vautte reached out and pushed the door open before stepping inside with her sword: She found what appeared to be a child's bedroom on the other side, with vibrant reds and blues stretching across the walls, furniture and bedsheets. One window had been shattered by something, but otherwise the room was untouched; Vautte felt an odd calming sensation from just looking at it.

Movement. She whipped around to see a small figure disappear through a closet door. She stomped over and threw the door open... to reveal a little girl cowering in the corner. She knew this girl. How did she know her?

The girl wore a tattered, but inordinately expensive dress under a jacket of some kind; her long brown hair was a tangled mess; her big round eyes were wide with pure terror at the sight of the intimidating Commissar, and began to wet with tears. She was so scared she could hardly breathe.

Vautte stopped, looking down at this little girl. Some part of her brain recognized what her duty was at this point, to take this child in and have her transported to the nearest Schola Progenium. But somehow, that wasn't the first emotion that came to her mind as she carefully sheathed her sword and kneeled, reaching out with a hand. "Come, little one... you'll be safe with me."

Why was she doing this? How did she know this child?

The girl hesitated, then reached out her little hand.

At that moment, the entire world melted away into nothingness.

=====

Some time shortly thereafter, Vautte's after-action report on the successful witch-hunt was sent up the chain: it detailed in general terms the hallucinations suffered by the hunting force, the killing of the witch, the subsequent burning of his body before artillery leveled that entire section of the tunnels beneath the Basin, and that the entire force had undergone Ecclesiarchal screening to clear them of any Warp taint.

But that wasn't the most interesting part.

Vautte made special mention of the fact that one Kasrkin Hawk Rodgers was the man who delivered the killing blow, and that she was putting him up for promotion back to Corporal for his heroism.

This was coupled with the fact that she had been told Hawk was transferred to the 1066th Penal Legion, which was obviously impossible because she still had him, and more to the point that she was not at all happy to be officially left out of the loop on that particular personnel decision.

Vautte wasn't letting her best retinue member go after what he'd accomplished, and (in nicer terms than was perhaps implied) she wanted answers as to what the hell Commissar Luuk and General Von Grimhoff were playing at when they decided that they had jurisdiction over him.

Lord Commissar Ivchenka was directly copied in on this report, so she expected answers promptly.

"Battery control, I've got something." Sergeant Al-Ada spoke quietly into the vox; he was nowhere near any enemies who could hear him, but one could never be too careful when it came to psykers.

[rolled 18 for the Tarosi doing their thing here]

Al-Ada's 5-man spotting team, after spearheading 2nd Engineers' assault through the railyard facility along the shore, had been ordered forward to spot for friendly artillery. As part of that, they had used the confusion of the ongoing battle to very quietly work their way inside the north side of the excavation basin below: a giant ferrocrete dam that seemed to span the entire length of ocean between the mainland and the Island of Leffin, largely keeping the water out and the rocky sea floor far below accessible to terrestrials such as himself.

Al-Ada did not even want to begin thinking about the kind of engineering and resources required to build such a mammoth structure, and was simply glad that it likely meant not even the traitors had the know-how and/or means to actual destroy it. Right now that didn't matter, anyway. Traxxen's melta had allowed them to quickly and relatively silently breech several heretic barricades and collapsed tunnels, dispatching several guards as they moved through the inside of the dam before finding their present position: a maintenance hatch on the inside of the dam that Al-Ada was currently peering over the lip of, his team watching the tunnels at his back.

They couldn't stay here for long, but for now they had the perfect angle to look down below the cliffline of the railyard on the battlefield, where they had just found their target.

"Battery standing by." His vox operator whispered back.

Far below, Al-Ada watched, through his magnoculars, a young man in silver-lined purple robes. He was physically very handsome, with pale skin and long blonde hair. But more importantly, he was sitting amidst a large group of Chaos cultists in a ruined hab complex, eyes closed, legs crossed... and floating several feet off the ground. "We've located one of the heretic witches. Sending coordinates... requesting full salvo, 3 Batteries. Fire for effect."

Traxxen, Grinning a little, recited an old hymn of protection against the Warp in Tarosi Gothic. Al-Ada had noticed the younger ones using the old sayings in more of a tongue-in-cheek, mocking way lately, as if flaunting the very real protection they offered againt the ruinous powers. He gritted his teeth a little... but at least they were using them. [rolled 17 for defense against any Carix corruption]

His vox operator nodded, relaying the instructions; a few moments later and he held up one hand, 3 fingers out. 30 seconds.

Al-Ada nodded and turned back towards the hatch, retraining his magnoculars on the enemy Psyker: He was still there, seemingly undisturbed by the actions taking place kilometers away that had now sealed his doom.

20 seconds. Al-Ada kept his eyes trained on the Witch, refusing to let them out of his sight for even a second.

15 seconds. He heard the distant, recognizable booms of Taronian Basilisks firing; the cultists appeared unconcerned, having grown used to the ceaseless Imperial bombardment. But the Psyker...

10 seconds. The handsome witch began to fidget in his pose, then he dropped to the ground. The surrounding cultists turned to look at him.

5 seconds. The Psyker opened his eyes. They were little more than giant, dark irises as black as the void itself, with a tinge of something else the Tarosi Sergeant couldn't quite place.

The Witch turned. 3 seconds.

He was looking directly at Al-Ada. 2 seconds.

1 second. As the cultists heard the whistle of incoming shells and began to scatter far too late, Al-Ada saw the Psyker give him a sickly-sweet grin, and then drop straight through the rubble into the ground.

[9 for arty effectiveness. Target hit, but the actual target escaped]

The entire mound of rubble subsequently detonated under a hail of high-explosive Earthshaker shells. The other 4 members of his team all murmured a quiet prayer in apparent celebration, but even before the smoke from the barrage had cleared he was grabbing his vox operator's receiver. "No hit, no hit! Target has escape underground!!!"

Al-Ada replayed the moment in his head. There had been no opening, hatch, staircase, anything anywhere near the Psyker that would have let him do what he saw him do. But before he could explain this, he heard something strike metal behind him. He instinctually drew his own shortsword and lashed out behind him, only to find that he was cutting through a thin cable with a magnetic grapple that had attached itself to the lip of the hatch. That cable had come from somewhere.

"CONTACT!" He screamed as the first enemy elite sailed past the hatch, her maneuvering cable cut; several more were right behind her though.

The Tarosi had been found out. As they quickly retreated back inside the dam's inner workings, Sergeant Al-Ada knew they were in for a fight now.

=====

The only light down here was the harsh beams coming from the Imperials' stablights, either handheld or chest- or rifle-mounted, and the only sounds were that of footsteps, breathing, and the occasional but persistant friendly artillery landing meters above them on the basin's surface.

"We're at the edge of the range of the larger psykic jammers down here." Commissar Atterine Vautte said as she walked in the lead: Hawk, Marin and Mino, the 3 members of her retinue currently around, walked behind her. "So keep your wits about you, and put them down quickly."

10 minutes ago, spotter reports placed one of the enemy pyskers fleeing underground in this sector of the labyrinth that ran beneath the basin. Ever since then, Taronian artillery had been blasting the hell out of the surrounding sectors in the hopes of collapsing enough tunnels to make escape impossible. Now, Commissar Vautte was leading a mixed Taronian-Cadian force with one very simple objective: kill him.

The mumbling of a Battle Preacher carrying a large Aquila and chainsword followed Vautte's lead party, as well as a Taronian engineer Corporal carrying an auspex scanner and 2 slab shield-wielding Ogryn. Backing them was a Platoon from the Cadian 728th, lead by a Sergeant Flynn. They had previously also been supported by Captain Tallek's Command Battery, accompanying them when they descended down the lift into the darkness, but as the tunnels of this sector, they were forced to wait behind and do what they could to prevent enemy reinforcements from entering as well. Hawk was likely thankful for that.

"Uh, Commissar!" The engineer suddenly spoke up, but before she could finish her statement a lone flash of lasfire lanced out of the dark and spanged harmlessly off of an Ogryn's slabshield.

Vautte barely broke her stride; her bolt pistol came up and flashed twice, followed by a scream that quickly died away. She turned towards the Corporal. "Enemy contact?"

"Y-yes ma'am. Apologies. These tunnels aren't the best environment for auspexes..." The Corporal said, but was once again cut off as her device trilled loudly. "-er actually, I'm getting one... no, several different readings now, all potentially warp-related... and all in different directions."

Vautte huffed, turning to survey her force. "Right. Chances of these signals being false positives are high, so we need to confirm each of them as quickly as possible lest the real one slip away. We split into fireteams and coordinate our movements."

She looked to Sergeant Flynn. "We'll split your Platoon into 3 Squads, one lead by yourself as well as Hawk and the Corporal. Preacher Bergo and the Ogryns will go with Second Squad, and I will lead Third Squad with Marin and Mino. We each take one of these 3 passageways. Understood?"

The engineer Corporal patted the Ogryns on the back before moving to join Hawk and the Cadians, and they got moving. As everyone split up, Mino jumped a bit at a creaking pipe, almost dropping the AT rifle he and Marin always had.

"You believe in ghosts now?" Marine chuckled as she put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"No... but there are worse things..." He said as they moved on.

As they did, the artillery fire up on the surface seemed to increase in frequency and variation. Hawk felt the reverberations of mortars, the rapid-fire poundings of heavy weapons, the roar of great engines of war meeting in apocalyptic confrontation.

When he started noticing black-painted Aquilas and other standard markings on the grey permacrete walls, Hawk found it weird that they hadn't been removed after all this time in enemy hands.

When he saw the first symbol of the Cadian Gate, Hawk knew that something strange was happening.

Colonel Arvin stared at Captain Cassin for several moments in silence. The 2 officers were in his office at the Bracar Resort... and Lord Commissar Grynzel was standing impassively in the back, quietly listening but not intruding in the conversation.

When it was clear the junior man wasn't going to speak first, the Colonel relented. "...You have nothing to say?"

"You called me here, Colonel."

"I did, but... really, Nathan? Nothing?"

Cassin didn't answer. With genuine bafflement, Arvin passed him a dataslate with the reason for why he'd summoned him: 2, but technically 12 transfer requests from the Taronian Brigade to the 1066th Penal Regiment. Avery Cassin and Talli Winter, the 2 ex-Gue'Vesa auxiliaries, and the other 10 were the Squad of Naval Armsmen who technically still had orders to escort them.

Captain Cassin read it over with seemingly no emotion, just nodded. "Yes sir. I already discussed the issue with Avery earlier."

This only caused more confusion for Colonel Arvin. "Discussed it with her? Nathan, she wants to be transferred to a fragging penal unit. I expected a bit more of a fight to block this, all things considered!"

"It's her choice to make." The Captain just said. "She... she felt her talents were being wasted back in Communion. And she knows she can't be granted a combat role as part of a regular unit... so she..."

There it was. Colonel Arvin saw the wall that Cassin usually kept around his emotions flicker for just a moment as he choked on the words. Evidently, they had done more than just discuss it.

"Nathan. I will block it if you want me to." Arvin offered; he glanced at Grynzel, but the Mordian said nothing, just watched.

Cassin shook his head. "She knows what she's doing. And she'll be under Captain Arvin's command, too. She always spoke highly of him."

Colonel Arvin almost visibly flinched at the mention of his own traitor son. The Cassins weren't the only family undergoing this strain.

He waited another few moments, then sighed. "Well... if she feels so strongly about it, then far be it from me to stop her from fighting for the God Emperor."

He took back the dataslate from Cassin, noting the slight resistance in his grip, but he didn't hold onto it; Arvin scrolled to the bottom, and placed his signature upon the transfer request. "That... is that. Our sons and daughters march to war once more."

He said it with a certain finality: all 3 children of Taronian officers, though one was dead, now once again united to continue the fight that their parents, and their parents before them, had kept up. In an odd way, it was the exact thing that he dreaded most.

Cassin nodded quietly, then turned and left with barely a glance towards Grynzel. Once he was gone, Arvin looked to him properly for the first time. "Might I ask your opinion on this matter, Lord Commissar? You were awfully quiet back there."

"Waiting to see what decision you would make." Grynzel said. "I am pleased you made the right one."

Arvin raised an eyebrow. "then you approve?"

"I do. Less problems for the Brigade to deal with."

"Do you mean the Brigade, or you personally?"

"There is no distinguishing between the two. You, of all people, should know that Colonel."

Arvin frowned, not sure what he meant by that remark.

=====

It wasn't long afterwards that Colonel Burton and the 1066th got the transfer request for the 2 Taronians and 10 Armsmen, coincidentally around the same time that the transfer notice for the 2 Praetorians also came in.

They would be coming fully equipped with considerable, particularly the Armsmen... under the condition that they would be assigned to Captain Arvin's Company.

[ u/theninjaindisguise ]

"Fangs out! Fangs out!!!!" Kinner screamed as weapons fire pulsed from her Thunderbolt.

After reporting the 3rd new sensor echo to the Lethe Delta, Commander Carrilong had ordered them to investigate. Now it seemed the pilot close enough to notice it had very suddenly stumbled on top of something.

"Beacon-9, ID! What are you shooting at?!" The flight lead trailing behind said as everyone increased speed.

"2 Chaos scout craft, running on low power! They're sitting ducks!"

As that was said, there was a blossom of fire in space and a power surge. Now the whole Squadron could pick up the 2 new power plant signatures, one of which was rapidly dissipating as Kinner had apparently scored a lethal blow. [16]

"First kill! Whoo!" She cheered as her Thunderbolt pulled off.

2 of her wingmen quickly fell on the other scout craft, which was rapidly powering it's engines to make a run for it.

"Hes maneuvering, power the thrust vectors to compensate!"

"Pull back, you're passing my line!"

"Fangs out!"

The chatter continued as the 2 Thunderbolts exchanged lascannon fire with the scout craft's defensive turret.

[12] The enemy craft was hit hard and it's engines winked out.

[1] But then there was another blossom in the black. It wasn't the Chaos craft.

"Whoa! Beacon-10, you there?"

"..."

"PAUL!"

"..."

The rest of the Squadron was coming in now, angling for the drifting and inert scout craft. There was an angry silence across the comm channel.

Gryllus Prime, South of Camburg

1 month into the Imperial invasion

The whole town had come out to see them off.

They lined the roads and spilled into the street to watch the Agri-District 9 volunteers meet the incoming transport that would take them to the training facility.

Caleb Greene was a bit embarassed by the turnout; he really didn't think it was that big of a deal. He was doing what anyone would in his place.

But his younger siblings thought otherwise, as they mobbed him before he could get out of the crowd. Some begged, some cried. The older ones just wished him good luck. The camera drones observing the procession made sure to get lots of shots of that.

Then of course there was his friend, who rolled up in his wheelchair once the others had said their farewells. "You know I'd go with you."

"You're the reason I'm going." Caleb said back with a grin.

Out in the wheat fields beyond the town, the plume of smoke from the crashed Imperial fighter was still burning a bit. The pilot was killed on impact, but that didn't stop the shrapnel from hitting Caleb's cousin as he walked the fields.

That was the moment Caleb knew that the Imperial invasion wasn't something that could be ignored. He felt sick that it had taken him this long to realize that. How many had already died for his ignorance?

His cousin nodded, a little somberly. "Well. Your mom's waiting."

Caleb's smile faltered. He nodded and continued on.

His mother was standing by the transport; the others were already aboard. She was only in her 50s, but fighting in the revolution the freed their world 30 years previously had taken it's toll on her body. Still, she was the strongest person Caleb had ever known, despite her physical fragility. "Hi, mom..."

"...Caleb." His mother broke into tears as she hugged him tightly, and he embraced her back. "I'm so, so proud of you..."

"I know, mom. I'll do right by you... promise."

"I know you will..." she said with such sudden conviction that Caleb was reminded of that time an Ethereal toured their district. "Because you have something the Impies, the rest of us, even the T'au don't have."

Caleb furrowed his brow.

"You have heart." She said. "You have a heart so full and beautiful that only the Tau'Va herself could match."

Caleb couldn't help but avert his gaze. "Aw shucks, mom..."

"I mean it." She said, eyes still near tears. "You're going to do great things, Caleb. Greater than me."

"Mom... you liberated the planet." Caleb said, almost protesting.

"And you're going to save more than that." She said in return. "I know it."

Caleb was silent for a moment as he processed that. How could she know that...?

The transport driver cleared their throat. Caleb glanced over and sighed. "I gotta go mom... I'll write to ya soon."

She nodded. "Good luck, my son..."

[This post is connected to u/Firm-Reason 's Oaks IV Campaign, where my Guard Regiment is engaged in bitter fighting to hold open various supply route...]

=====

Sector F Supply Corridor, Oaks IV

13 days since deployment

"5 of 'em..." The sniper whispered as he lowered himself back behind the barricade with his long-las rifle. "They're just standin' there."

Sergeant Ruffus Dearborn pursed his lips, a nervous habit, as he thought. The supply convoy that his 8-man Squad was running escort for sat idling back down the road behind him, waiting. They'd be waiting a while more, it looked like. "You sure?"

"They're just standing in the road, sir. Not taking cover, not patrolling... just waiting."

This wasn't right. The basic Necron warrior wasn't exactly the smartest of adversaries, but they weren't this dumb. And they'd chosen to stand precisely on the convoy route, almost daring someone to engage them. "They're bait."

"Bait for what?" A Corporal with a grenade launcher asked.

Dearborn wished he knew. The Taronian Brigade had been deployed as rearline security for the convoys keeping the Astartes at the front supplied, mopping up any xenos remnants that they'd missed, but the problem with remnants is that you never really knew what surprises they had left in store for you.

He ran through his options. The artillery was busy stimying a counterattack on the Hive Primus Corridor, they couldn't divert guns to deal with 5 measly xenos. And who knew what the hell the Astartes were doing...

His train of thought was suddenly derailed by a distant ***crack*** that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Fraggin' line... Sarge!"

He peaked over the barricade to see that one of the Necron Warriors had collapsed to the ground and was quickly dissapearing in a flash of green light; the other 4 had turned away from the road and were advancing towards an adjacent clump of buildings. They weren't firing... meaning whoever had done that had avoided detection in the process. And they were drawing the enemy away from the road... into a perfect killzone, if he could get there in time.

"Let's go, boys and girls! Double time!" Dearborn roused his Squad and they moved laterally, off the road and into a ditch where they could move relatively unseen.

As they did they heard another crack, and Dearborn realized it must be the sound of a firearm. But he had seen no lasbolts, and the Necrons certainly hadn't, which meant... what kind of madman was taking potshots at Necrons with an autogun???

Dearborn picked out the building he wanted, and lead his Squad inside a ruined cafe. Creeping through the back kitchen and into the dining area, he peaked over the bar counter: the 4 Necrons had stopped in the intersection outside and were firing at another building nearby. Unaware of the Taronians' presence so far... the madman was keeping them occupied, that was for sure.

He ducked down and detailed 2 of his men each to target the 4 enemies. Once all were assigned, he counted down from 3... 2... 1... they all rose and picked their targets.

Lasfire scythed through the already-broken windows of the cafe; all 4 Necrons took hits, and 3 fell under the concentrated attack. One stumbled from a frag grenade detonating at it's feet, then turned to face the new threat and fired back.

Dearborn's Squad ducked down as the gauss beam flashed over the bar's glossy panelling, which thankfully held for now. Then the Sergeant turned and saw that his sniper had been too late and now lay still, desintegrating on the floor.

There was another crack. The shooting stopped. Dearborn cautiously poked his head out to see that the 4th Necron now also lay on the ground, it's head completely cut off as the rest of the body dissapeared.

After a few a minutes, Dearborn signalled the all-clear for the convoy to move up. Then his Corporal shouted out, "Sarge, we found the madman!"

Dearborn turned to see that the madman was actually a madwoman; she strolled into the square to meet the Taronians, cradling an ancient-looking wood-panelled bolt action rifle with her. Dearborn immediately moved to greet her. "Mamzel... nice shooting back there. But just who the hell are you?"

"Jeanie Chavallier. Oaks PDF guide force... or what's left of it." The 20-something woman said in what seemed to be the local Gothic dialect; she wore faded blue trousers, greyish green field jacket, dust scarf, netted helmet with a white painted Aquila on the side, and an armband that probably signified her affiliation with the PDF in lieu of a real uniform.

"Uh huh..." Dearborn felt his eyes drift down towards her rifle, which seemed truly archaic to his eyes.

She saw his gaze. "These things have one spot where they can be killed consistently it seems, the nape of the neck. My thanks for drawing that last one's attention, in order to give me the angle."

Dearborn's brow rose. "That was your plan, then?"

Jeanie shrugged. "Something like that..."

Suddenly there was a blast from back towards the road, causing everyone to duck, then heavy stubber fire from the convoy gunners. Dearborn caught his Corporal's eye. "Bait... Shit, call for backup!"

The Squad immediately took off running again, before Dearborn paused and turned towards Jeanie. "I've just lost my sniper... care to join us?"

She smiled and racked her bolt. "Thought you'd never ask."

=====

[A small skirmish with a few characters to show what's going on behind the frontlines... anyone who would like to have their marines intervene to save the convoy can do so in the comments!]

"Right... Green 10..." Kolsky muttered as he tracked the passing zone signs on the rows and rows of cargo containers here in the Communion Navy supply dump. "Ah, here we are!"

Alice's rank as a Crew Chief, and just a tad bit of intimidation from Kraken, had gotten her and the fitter crew past the Munitorum worker at the main entrance; now they were moving to go and see if they could find any of the Valkyrie parts they needed in the zone marked for airfield delivery.

The area in question turned out to be conveniently marked in green, and was chock full of crates and pallets full of supplies and spares. Bayer and Kolsky immediately moved to survey the collection, but then Kisno spoke. "Hey hey, wait up!"

They all turned to look at him, ashe was fidgeting a bit. "Look... stealing from a junkyard was one thing. But security here seems a lot tighter, we passed at least 3 Erelvastians."

"Well, where else will we find parts?" Bayer asked.

Kisno didn't seem to have an answer.

"...Fort Davies." It was Kraken who answered like he'd known the entire time and simply been waiting for someone to ask. "The 119th like us. Bet they'll give us something."

The other fitters exchanged glances. "Well alright then."

They made to leave when Kolsky paused and moved to the closest pallet. "Huh... that's a las-solder."

He picked out the small, fairly fancy tool from the pallet and hid it under his jacket before continuing on. "Don't have one of those..."

=====

"Where did you go?"

Lieutenant Hal was waiting for Quartermaster's Assistant Riley Brinx the moment her head finally hit the pillow back in the Taronian barracks at Fort Davies. She groaned, raising her head again. "Were you waiting for me to sit down?"

The ordinarily timid officer was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. That was odd... Riley had never seen him like this before. Was he... upset?

Hal shifted a little uncomfortably on his feet at her question. That was more like him. "Yes... now answer my question. You were gone for weeks, now you waltz back into camp with Ryley. Where were you?"

She sighed, formulating what she'd say. Tell half the truth... the part that wouldn't get her in trouble. "Up around Bracar. You know that freighter that crashed a while back?"

"The troop transport?"

"No, the... the other one. Came down right along the reservoir?"

"Right...?"

"They were carrying winter uniforms. Considering we keep advancing north... I made sure the Brigade got a few hundred stocked up in the Bracar warehouses."

"Uh huh... and that's it? Just there for uniforms?"

"Uh huh."

He sighed, his mood shifting back to the old one that Riley knew so well. he supressed the release of tension in her chest. "Alright then... I just get nervous when you're gone for so long. Next time, you need to tell me where you going, alright?"

"Alright."

"...and what you're doing."

"Understood."

"...and sorry about barging in here."

"It happens."

Evidently feeling a little embarrassed, Hal left. Leaving Riley to sigh and continue examining the vial of Commissar's Own branded cologne, one from the crate she'd secured from that wreck. Troubling shifts in her favorite officer's attitude aide, this was going to make her lots of money...

=====

"Mighty Mamzel?" Sergeant Elizabeth Baker read the newly-painted words on the side of the master vox Cargo-8 that she'd recently arrived on; it was accompanied by a very muscly woman in some sort of civilian trucker's outfit.

"You like it?" The vehicle's driver asked with a big grin.

"It's... distinguished." Baker admitted half-heartedly.

Convoy TB-5 had left Bracar with 5 Cargo-8s and about 30 personnel total; they had made it to the 9th's fortified artillery park with 3 Cargo-8s and about 20 effectives, plus 5 wounded. 3 of her own escort Squad were dead, not to mention 2 trucks worth of supplies lost, and she blamed herself for that. Why in the hell did she stop to call in that artillery...

"She carried the whole convoy once the leader went down!" The driver seemed none the wiser to her current melancholy, and the same went for her squad; they were of course mourning the loss of comrades, but they were also celebrating the slaying of many heretics this day.

Baker was doing no such thing, despite the increasing kill-tally being attributed to Mighty Mamzel's ramming attack. All she was thinking about was holding it all together for the return trip to Bracar...

"Sergeant! Got a message for you!" Baker looked over to see a comms officer approaching. "It's got a Kestrel ID on it..."

Simultaneously, her whole Squad nearby turned to look in her direction. Surprised, and acting more on instinct than anything, Baker took the message and read it...

[Hello! A few of you might recognize me as the Taronian Brigade guy, as that's my primary OC unit in 40k. But it's not the only Imperial Guard Regiment I've done writing for...]

=================

Current day, Armageddon

The Plains of Anthrand, south of Hive Volcanus

"Aw, shit sir... looks like we didn't get here in time."

Sergeant Trick frowned as he squinted in the mid-day sun, amplified in intensity in the small periscope through which it spilled into the dark interior of the Chimera transport. He looked down and punched the gunner who'd spoken lightly in the shoulder. "Shut it. Spin up that multilaser. Driver, steady on!"

3rd Company, 82nd Armageddon Steel Legion, had gotten the sighting alert from the convoy about an hour ago, and made all haste from their holding position to intercept. But Chimeras couldn't out-pace a horde of Speed Freaks who'd caught the sent of a slow-moving convoy laden with supplies and refugees bound for Hive Volcanus.

Trick straightened up and jammed his eye tighter against the periscope, giving him a better view. As 3rd Company came over the final ash dune, they could see the column of cargo haulers and it's Ash Wastes Militia escort on their motorbikes, who were snapping off potshots with their lasguns in all directions. He saw what they were shooting at when the Chimera tilted downwards on the opposite side of the dune: packs of ramshackle Ork vehicles were speeding around the column's flanks. They were already enveloping their prey.

"Suck LASER!!!" The gunner shouted as the multilaser opened up on the closest Ork vehicle, along with the rest of the line of Chimeras; they didn't hit anything, but did scatter the greenskins and kicked up a lot of dust.

"Company, disembark and fight through to the column!" The vox squealed as 3rd Company's Captain ordered them all to move forward; the column was already turning to circle the haulers in a defensive formation as they saw their relief incoming. "Do not stop! The Chain must hold!"

Trick cursed as he clipped on his gas mask, opened the hatch and climbed out of the cupola while keying his own short-range vox. "Let's go, boys and girls! Out, out, out!"

The Chimera's rear ramp lowered and Trick's Squad piled out. Not enough, was his immediate thought.

Everyone knew the 82nd was stretched thin here on their section of "The Chain", the corridor of relative safety through which supply convoys could reach Hive Volcanus from the south by skirting around the western edge of the Plains of Anthrand. Command had been pulling away resources for too long; now they'd all pay the price. "Move it, move it! Stay close to the Chimera!"

Up and down 3rd Company's arrowhead formation, other Squads were deploying as the Chimeras kept grinding forward through the encircling Speed Freaks, all weapons firing. Trick realized his unit was pretty close to the tip of the spear, where he could just about see the stormtrooper Platoon plunging deeper forward, hellguns putting out a constant suppressing fire. He caught himself staring their way for a moment before a bullet spanged off the Chimera's hull by his head and he heard a Trooper yell, "Ork dismounts!"

Through the now-swirling dust and ash, Trick spotted the muzzle flashes coming from a wrecked Trukk 60 meters in front of them. He pulled out his bolt pistol and returned fire with his Squad, calling out targets, making sure all his boys and girls were in good shape as they moved forward at a good pace. The fire stopped after a shot from their lascannon team blew the trukk's promethium tank, and dust once again enveloped the enemy fighting position; when the Legionnaires reached the wrecked trukk moments later they found no Orks, dead or alive.

By now, the dust stirred up by all the vehicles in the area had fully encapsulated the combat area; Trick couldn't see beyond a dozen meters in any direction, and had totally lost sight of the neighboring Squads and vehicles. All he heard was the sounds of surrounding battle and the Captain over the vox still imploring everyone to get through to the convoy, and so he would. He broke into a run.

Trick almost didn't realize he was pulling ahead of the Squad's Chimera, until he heard a grunting noise in front of him; he saw 2 red beady eyes, and then the Ork was on top of him.

Trick got his chainsword up in time to deflect the first blow from the xenos' axe, forcing him back a step. He brought his bolt pistol up, pressed the muzzle into the beast's chest and pulled the trigger. It's torso exploded from the mass-reactive bolt shell, showering the Sergeant in gore. No sooner had the corpse dropped out of his sight then 2 more rushed him, one of which looked big enough to be a Nob. Trick lunged backwards, firing his pistol to try and buy him some time. He caught the smaller Ork's arm and blew it away, but it kept coming at the now-prone Legionnaire.

Trick suddenly felt the fear rising, remembering his first time ever seeing a greenskin. Before basic training, before the stormtrooper program, before washing out. A sewage-soaked, feral-looking thing in the deepest tunnels of Hive Helsreach. But he wasn't a scrawny hiveganger anymore. He was a Legionnaire.

Trick kicked with both legs for momentum as his chainsword revved, and brought it around in time with the Ork's steps; he sliced the thing's foot clean off, causing it to topple in pain. He jumped up and emptied the last of his pistol mag into it's face, until it went still. He smiled under his mask- wait.

The punch took him in the rib cage, and definitely broke something despite the stormtrooper enhancements as he was sent flying backwards. Not dying then and there almost made the years of pain and subsequent disappointment worth it, almost- he knew it would only delay the inevitable as he looked up to see the Nob that he'd forgotten about in his flashback bare down on him.

Then a white-hot flash filled Trick's vision, and when his sight returned he saw that the Nob no longer had a head. He saw another Legionnaire standing over the body, red-hot meltagun in her hands. Mia, one of the new kids down from Volcanus, he remembered. He could tell that she was smiling proudly under her mask as she offered him a hand, which he accepted. "Close one, eh Sarge?"

"Yeah... we'll call it that." He coughed as he hobbled along, and the rest of his Squad and the Chimera caught up with them. "Good shooting... now let's get to the column."

Trick's Squad was the first to get through the ad hoc dust storm to the circled-up convoy, followed shortly by the stormtroopers and then the rest of 3rd Company. It seemed that the Orks had decided to run when their encirclement was challenged by the Steel Legion mechanized infantry, Neither side inflicting much damage on the other. The Sergeant's bout with what appeared to be the Boss Nob was the hottest bit of action in the whole affair.

Trick was getting his broken ribs checked out by a medic when Mia sauntered up, obviously feeling good about her Nob kill. "Hey Sarge, we got the casualty reports from the convoy."

"Oh yeah?" He said, wincing in pain. "How many?"

"Uh... none, actually." She responded.

"None?"

"None."

Well then, the 82nd could forget about any sort of reinforcements coming soon. Winners who took no casualties didn't get reinforced, no matter if they just got lucky. "The refugees have scrounged up some bottles of... well, something, for us."

Trick decided not to enlighten Mia on his musings. "Right. well be sure to grab two for the Squad. Fine day's work."

"Will do, thanks... hey, can I ask you something, Sarge?"

"Depends."

"Why do they call you Trick?"

"...Kill another Nob and maybe I'll tell you."

"Beacon Flight, this is Delta control. You're cleared for launch when ready."

After weeks of classroom lectures, simulator exercises, and not a little amount of prodding from Commander Carrilon, and Beacon Squadron was running it's first actual flight op this morning. Full Squadron, 15 Thunderbolts. Organized however Commander Charice Augusta saw fit, but her new boss was very clear on the subject: the Squadron would fly, and it would fly now.

The inner airlock door closed over the cockpits of the Thunderbolt Squadron, all still painted desert tan with new green livery, as the lift descended into the chamber; the faint hiss of decompression could be heard outside their sealed cockpits as the oxygen was drained.

"Beacon Flight, you are directed to come about to bearing 1-6-2 point 4-7 upon launch." Delta control instructed them as final checks were made. "Your objective is a pair of augur echoes that were flagged as potential enemy scouts. Other Squadron vessels confirmed no contact in that area- you are to follow up and confirm no sign of enemy activity."

A milk run. If the Lethe Delta's sensors were the only ones that had caught a whiff of anything, then it was probably a fault with their sensors. Commander Carrilon was at least giving them an easy assignment for their first outing.

The hiss of venting air finally ceased, leaving nothing but nothingness outside each pilot's craft in the airlock chamber. "All systems are green... prepare for drop in 3... 2... 1..."

In an instant, the doors beneath each Thunderbolt opened, and a combination of artificial gravity and the hangar's newly-installed magnetic arrestors shoved the Squadron downwards, out of the belly of the Frigate. Precisely-calculated velocities propelled them cleared of the ship's under-side superstructure, out into the void as they orbited Trackold Minoris. The sight was, and always would be, breathtaking.

"Beacon flight, engage rocket motors and come about..."

All craft had cleared the hangar, no technical faults reported. Now it was time to go to work.

[ u/HighlightEntire , u/Theninjaindisguise ]

Colonel Kendrick Barckam held up a hand as he took a long sip from his mug of recaf, and only then lowered it. "Alright, one at a time now... what do we got?"

He gestured to Commissar Cadena first, and the priestly Prefectus officer nodded his thanks. "We have a developing situation with the Inquisition, sir."

Barckam frowned, and the rest of his command staff shrunk a little. That was indeed a pressing matter, making the previous cacophony of voices all talking over eachother feel very suddenly indignified. "Go on, Commissar..."

"As you know, Sergeant Collier's patrol Squadron brought in the survivors from SD59 half an hour ago." Cadena began. "We have them in the holding cells now, as per Inquisitorial orders, but the Inquisition also requested they be handed over to them..."

"...And now that they're in our jail, we have to fully process them before giving them to anyone?" Barckam guessed, then sighed. "Well then, you'd best get a move on processing them before the Holy Ordos shows up, eh Commissar? Now gentlemen, what else?"

Cadena nodded, and immediately left to begin the process of interviewing each of the SD59 stormtroopers, as well as Scion Mathilda who had come with them. For now, all he needed was their account of events leading up to them boarding Collier's boats.

It took a moment for the rest of Barckam's command staff to speak up after such a hefty topic. Every Ouisivian had long had an instinctual, or at least greater than average fear of higher powers like the Ministorum and the Inquisition. It brought back the cultural trauma of the bad times following the 31st Riverine's rebellion so many centuries ago, and the planet-wide social and political audit that had followed.

The fact that Sergeant Collier's feelings on the matter had manifested in the way they had was a bit troubling... but also admirable, in Barckam's eyes.

Either way, it was Flight Captain Kicks, commander of the 19th's Vulture Squadron, he spoke up. "Sir, now that we have the Navy up in orbit for a moment, I was talking with their photo recon units, see if I could get some extra intel that they hadn't passed on down to us, and, well... I found something."

Kicks pulled out a folder and placed it on the table. Opening it, the picts were quite clearly high-altitude recon photos of Port Dubhan, specifically the harbor facilities.

Colonel Barckam leaned in, along with the rest of his command staff, as they scrutinized the shape of one particular vessel in the harbor. "That's... Kicks, that isn't what I think it is, is it?"

"It is indeed, sir." Kicks confirmed, as the Riverine staff looked over the highly-detailed image of the large grey-painted warship, it's possibilities, and it's threat...

The powers that be often taught that the path to victory and glory was through decisive action; seizing the initiative, aggressively pursuing your quarry, giving them no rest until they made a mistake for you to exploit.

This was often good advise... but not always.

"I'm telling you. You should tell him how you feel." Quartermaster's Assistant Jeremy said to Quartermaster's Assistant Aaron as they ran inventory on the newly-established Taros 9th supply dump. "You know you'll regret it if you don't..."

Jeremy grinned when he saw Aaron blush- he always did that when he was made to think about Tyrr, the massive Valyrran that had quite literally swept him off his feet. "Come on... HQ's 3 container rows from here, I can see the tent lights! You can go ask the Major for leave right now."

Aaron blushed more. "Alright, well... I... look, I can't just leave. The attack starts tomorrow! It's all hands on deck, you know that."

"Fine then, after we take the rail yard. Can't exactly shell an underground tunnel- we'll have a few days' rest once the fighting moves down there. You could go tell him your feelings in person... assuming you can work up the ourage before he's sitting on your face again."

"Jeremy!"

"Alright, alright! Guess we have work to do..."

"We're the only 2 on duty tonight, you know we do. Now get started over down that way..."

The 2 Quartermaster's Assistants split up and went separate ways through the labyrinth of cargo containers laid over the sand. As one of them reached a new row, his foot suddenly caught on something in the sand. "Agh-!"

He faceplanted, somewhat embarrassingly. But at least no one was around to notice.

Before he could get up, he suddenly felt a hand grip the back of his head, keeping his face buried in the sand and muffling any protestations he might have. Then he felt something cold and very hard pierce the back of his neck.

=====

The Warrior held the man down in the sand until he stopped twitching, before removing their knife from the back of his neck. A silent kill, and the hopefully first of many; the virtues of patience had paid off this night.

The Warrior was the only survivor of his team, the others all having perished under the wheels and treads of the Corpse-worshippers when they drove overhead. They had not faltered throughout the ordeal though, remaining hidden, and awaiting the right moment to strike. Now, thanks to the dead man lying before him, the Warrior had his opportunity, and all the information to make use of it.

Truly, the ruinous powers were smiling on him tonight.

Moving in the direction of the light, the Warrior arrived silently at the last row of containers; they could see the headquarters tent from where they stood. But first, they gave themselves an insurance policy: turning to the nearest crate, they placed a small pipebomb upon it's metal skin. They didn't know what was in it, but thought it would prove useful.

"Hey... didn't you already inventory this row?"

A sentry, in full gear, stood several meters away from them. Too dark for him to see the Chaos garbs they were, but also too far for them to lunge at him quietly. "...Hello?"

The Warrior turned to patience once more, hunching a bit to hide the explosive device. The seconds passed by... then he heard footsteps approach. "Ugh, if we get another sleeper tonight-!"

The sentry never knew what hit him. The warrior's hand lurched out to grab him by the mouth before their knife came up from below, slipping just under the flak breastplate, into the meat underneath, then up and into the heart. He was dead before his body hit the ground, lasgun only making a very soft clatter on the sand. Patience had once more prevailed.

Now the Warrior turned towards the headquarters tent, still glowing in the night and now un-guarded. They took several steps towards it, and then several steps more. They were just about to reach out for the tent flap when they felt a blow to the back of their head, hard.

Next thing the Warrior knew, they were on the ground. Looking up at a scowling woman in an enemy officer's uniform. She had a pistol pointed at his face. "Now just who the bloody are you!?"

More voices sounded behind the Warrior from inside the tent. He realized that this must be the enemy commander; for whatever reason they had been out of the tent, and only just now returned. He smiled. This only seemed to make her angrier, and her trigger finger tightened.

But it didn't matter, because the Warrior's hand was already curling around the detonator to activate the pipebomb on the cargo container which the enemy commander had unwittingly placed herself in the perfect position between them and it. "Patience..."

=====

Trooper Hawk Rodgers hadn't been able to get much sleep that night. This ended up being a good thing, because his instincts had already armed himself and gotten him halfway out of the command Chimera before his consciousness had actually registered what his Kasrkin reflexes already had: an explosion of some magnitude. Big enough to be munitions, but not big enough to be Earthshaker shells, luckily.

It was coming from right in the center of the 9th's camp. Right by the Headquarters Company.

An alarm sounded somewhere nearby. People were running, but not nearly as many as their should've been. 2nd Engineer Company were usually around to bolster camp security but not this time, leaving only the HQ security element. And if the explosion was anything to go by, they had not been enough.

As Hawk ran, suddenly Paige was running next to him. No surprise there- she was a night owl, morning bird, and every and any other kind of active whenever the situation called for it. And unlike him, she was in full kit.

"Great, 2 in one week..." She grumbled as they fell into step with eachother. "Any bets who it was this time?"

=====

About 10 minutes later, and Major Sasha Koragath barged into General Von Grimhoff's main HQ with the 728th, not for the first time.

"Sir. I need a Valkyrie right now." She said, not wasting any time; he would note that she had not had time to change from the day before, but had strapped her bolt pistol and powersword on. "the Taros 9th's headquarters was just destroyed."

At this point, the city of Bracar had become a bustling rearline logistics town, full of supply dumps, command centers airbases, hospitals, etc.

For the Taronians manning the defenses around it, this was mostly a blessing; a desert city that was just familiar enough to feel a lot like home, but also with a hell of a lot more amenities than Tarokeen had ever had.

But it wasn't that way for everyone. Even as those yearning for the ongoing combat further north found assignments with the supply convoys or outer desert patrols, there were those with problems that could not so easily be sorted.

=====

Once Crew Chief Alice Mack finished up talking to Boxer, CMO Captain Adien approached again. "Alice, thought you'd wanna know the cogboys are in the middle of their damage assessment of the Rocinante. Inquisition's cleared out. She's all yours if you want to go see her condition for yourself... apparently it's at least salvageable."

The fact that needed to be said still spoke volumes as to the damage taken by the old Valkyrie. "They'll be shipping in the fitter crew from the 9th's HQ as well, though that'll take some time."

Somewhere down the hall, Alice could have sworn she heard a crying baby.

=====

As Adien walked out of the ward and went back to his regular rounds, he sighed heavily. The last dregs of the adrenaline rush that had come with the Rocinante's crashlanding was fading fast, leaving him back to the dull, grinding monotony of non-combat care.

Adien realized that it was the closest he'd come to frontline, first-aid surgery in... well, too long for his liking. That scared him. He shouldn't want to have to operate on some scared kid with their guts flash-fried. But he had to admit, there was nothing that made him feel more useful, more needed, more relevant, than that.

He wiped his face, going to the break room to get a cup of recaf. He decided to write another letter to Roisin.

=====

My dearest Roisin,

We've been set up here in Bracar for a while now and it's starting to weigh on me. The refugees have all been cared for and transported away to the south, and the combat has moved too far north for us to receive regular casualties.

It's a very nice town and I'd love to take you out to dinner some time, but it just feels like my talents are wasted here.

There are some bits of excitement. We started running mandatory swim lessons, seeing as the beach is so popular. We've already needed to perform 4 resuscitations, it's a miracle no one's drowned yet.

The other, potentially more interested affair is a certain milestone the Taronian Brigade has never reached before: we now have a maternity ward, with 3 expecting mothers and several more on the way. Normally they'd have been transferred up to the Stoneforged for proper care, but she didn't come in with the fleet so we have had to make due. I'll be the first to admit I'm not an expert on pediatric care, but luckily some of my staff are more experienced, and I've been doing as much research as I can in my off-hours. Any advice or aid would be much-appreciated, though.

I am told the 119th is engaged in much more intense operations currently, so I will understand if it takes you some time to get back to me. I also heard from Communion that a few of your officers got into some sort of altercation? I hope it isn't serious, but I wish them both and you the best either way.

Hopefully, things will calm down soon and we can meet again. Until then, I can imagine nothing more desirable than the comfort of your arms.

Yours always,

~Adien

Commissar Atterine Vautte had spent the last several hours reviewing the Cadian 728th Camp security set-up. She found it very lacking.

The gate sentries were lax, the wall guards were too spaced apart. The patrol routes were basic and very predictable, interior sentries were almost nonexistent except for headquarters, there were no cameras or motion sensors even in vital areas, and as far as she could tell they had never even heard of a blackout or a curfew.

Putting it simply, the 728th Cadian had the camp security of a low-readiness pleasure world garrison Regiment. They had grown dangerously complacent in their years of service, and now it had come back to bite them. Her report to Lord General Von Grimhoff would say exactly that.

For the moment though, the immediate ramifications of this arrangement were that no specialized infiltrators were needed to get to their ammo dump. Basically anyone could have wandered in and done it.

Which then brought her to the question of suspects.

The obvious answer was Chaos infiltrators. They were never not suspect. But they were also the easy scapegoat, and Vautte wasn't going to rule out friendly action just yet considering the amount of political mayhem reeked on the campaign.

Starting with her own ranks, the Taronians had all just been called to action stations, and Vautte made sure their camp security was airtight. All personnel were accounted for, even Sergeant Baker's supply convoy that had just come in as she'd done regular headcounts the entire way, and after the explosion.

Moving on, she doubted the Cadians or the other units under Strauss' direct banner blew up their own munitions, but encouraged Commissar Thornburg to take precautions anyway. The Kytekans also seemed uninterested in politics as a whole and didn't fit the profile of vigilante bombers, but she still sent a communique to Commissar Rammke to account for all her people.

That same communique went to the Ork Hunters' Commissars, whose Regiment was far more suspect on this matter. They had reason to be upset with the 728th, especially that girl Tlalli, but they had also served under General Strauss for many years and appeared much attached to him. Their situation was complicated, and she knew her standing with them was not great so she decided to leave it to their own Prefectus officers unless she had a lead that pointed that way.

That covered all of the main formations billeted her in this camp. But not everyone.

The Valyrran Valkyrie and crew had been grounded when Vautte ordered the camp locked down. Now, they saw her coming alongside her retinue, tapping away on a dataslate. Considering how much of the drama centered around the 728th and the 1st specifically, she wanted to interview them personally to make sure nothing weird had happened there, though she doubted they'd go so far as to damage the war effort in such a blatant way. Still, she would do her due diligence.

"Uh... ma'am?" Nath, her vox operator, spoke up. "Commissariat official alert. Apparently someone's... looking for Hawk?"

Vautte frowned, glancing between Hawk and Nath. "What for?"

"...some kind of transfer, it seems."

Her frown deepened. She had no fragging time for this. "Well if they want him so bad then they can come and talk to me directly about it, so then I can tell them to piss off myself!"

She was nothing if not fiercely independent when it came to her Regiment and responsibilities. No one punished them except her.

Now visibly a little irritated, Vautte arrived in the Valyrran landing pad and tried to calm herself before speaking, hands in hips. "Excuse me. Which one of you is in charge?"

Some time after the convoy escort battle, as the fleet sits in orbit over Trackold Minoris...

"Sir, damage reports are in."

Commander Raemus Carrilon was looking at the starboard-side window of his Frigate's bridge, watching one of the freighters that had been hit by a heretic torpedo during the earlier attack. They were currently safe in orbit, safe enough for repairs to be affected at least; the Fast Clipper Grey's Hound was currently hovering over the massive gouge in her hull, EVA repair crews flitting back and forth like tiny insects in Carrilon's vision. "Let's have it then."

Not that he'd seen an insect in several years.

"One freighter destroyed, total loss." Lieutenant Lipton began as he read off the list. "That one you're looking at damaged and limping, about 60% cargo loss from direct action and materials for repairs. Three other transports took minor hits, 5% and 10% cargo loss respectively. Then there's the Dickie- 20% crew and weapons loss. She's under her own power now, but her maneuvering is so-so at best. Her torpedo tubes are intact, but otherwise she won't be much use."

Carrilon sighed. All in all, not the worst day he'd seen... far from the best, too. "we were stretched too thin, Lipton. If we'd had more escorts we could've intercepted those Raiders before they got a shot at the convoy."

"Or just some patrol fighters to spot for us." Lipton nodded in agreement. "Sommerham didn't give us any carriers. We didn't even know that Rogue Trader vessel was carrying Starhawks."

"Well Mr. Lipton, not much we can do about it now except make do." He said, straightening his posture.

"Well..."

Carrilon glanced at him, eyebrow raised.

"There's the T-Bolts in the hold." Lipton suggested.

Carrilon laughed. Then he realized he was being serious.

As part of their final cargo load before fleeing the Taros system, the Lethe Delta had taken on 3 dozen-odd Thunderbolt fighters, formerly owned by the T'au-aligned Taros PDF. These were the ones that had been captured by the Imperials in any kind of intact state, though almost none were flight-worthy. The Frigate had been originally tasked with dropping them off at the nearest Naval Depot at their earliest convenience, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen now.

"Are you mad?" Carrilon asked, even as he grinned a little; his XO's audaciousness surprised him. "We're not a carrier, Kyle. And even if we could get them flying, we'd have no pilots for them, no spare parts... not to mention no permission from Admiralty command."

Then Carrilon's Master of Ordnance stepped in. "Sir, Thunderbolts are VTOL-capable, they don't really need proper launch tubes or retrieval equipment like Starhawks or Furies. Hypothetically-speaking, we could probably retrofit the cargo holds they're in for flight operations with only some hassle... and I reckon you can pull apart the unsalvageable ones to fix up the good airframes, and get ourselves a small pile of spare parts."

"Our shuttle crews all have basic flight training, as well." Lipton picked up the train of thought. "They wouldn't need to be dogfighting the enemy, especially in space. Just get proper eyes on whatever our auspex picks up, give us some warning so we can avoid what happened with those Infidels again."

Carrilon couldn't believe what he was hearing. And he couldn't believe he was considering it, either. Flying atmospheric-optimized craft off the underbelly of a Sword Frigate as auxiliary support and screening ships... maybe he'd been fighting the T'au so long that their damnable ingenuity was rubbing off on him, but he thought the idea had some merit.

"So... what I'm hearing is that if I can get Sommerham on board with this plan, you can make it happen?" He asked his 2 officers; they each nodded. "...alright then."

=====

The "Beacon Squadron Proposal", as Carrilon named it, reached Admiral Sommerham's desk not long before his flagship entered orbit around Trackold. The Lethe Delta had the airframes, the personnel, and most of the equipment on-hand to do it themselves; all they needed were a few specific pieces of gear that were listed, perhaps one or two experienced flight officers to act as advisors, and permission from Sommerham himself.

At the end of the proposal, Commander Carrilon added a personal note.

If I had this Squadron earlier, I would not have lost a transport. Give me them now, and I swear to not lose another.

The Guard might have been doing most of the dying at the moment, but they weren't the only ones with problems, thought Commander Raemus Carrilon as he stood on the bridge of the Sword-class Frigate Lethe Delta, stifling a yawn impatiently. It was currently 03:00 hours Terran standard time. "Augur! What's the hold up?"

Down in the Augur Array pit, Lieutenant Lipton shook his head while looking over the scanner crew's shoulders. "Sorry Captain, I can't make anything out."

For the last half a day or so, as the escort group sat guarding the merchant convoy, they had been getting faint augur echoes... almost like there was a power signature out beyond the fleet formation, slowly getting closer.

Carrilon had been patrolling border areas of the T'au Empire for years before his current assignment. He knew how raiding tactics worked, turning off everything on your ship except for emergency power and letting her drift into position with a very limited chance of detection. He'd done it himself once or twice... but there was no guarantee that it wasn't just a sensor echo, and with so few escorts guarding the massive convoy he couldn't go off investigating.

So he just stood there and waited...

Suddenly, an alert chimed on the augur screens. Carrilon smiled a tiny bit as the tension released slightly from his body. The operator called out, "proximity alert! 3... no, 4 objects, approaching at high speed!"

Lieutenant Lipton analyzed and added, "looks like a torpedo spread Captain!"

"Evasive action! Warn the transports!" Carrilon ordered, but as the Frigate banked it was already too late.

A pair of explosions blossomed in the black as 2 of the massive missiles slammed home, and the transponders of 2 freighters trailing behind the Lethe Delta flared bright in distress; the other 2 missed, one aimed at a troop transport in front of the Frigate, and the other sailing no more than a couple dozen kilometers beneath the ship itself. A near-miss. Carrilon's teeth grinded as the bridge crew surged to life. "Hard to port! Follow the vector of those torpedoes and signal the Lord Cadena for support!"

The Firestorm-class Frigate Lord Cadena, their partner escort on this section of the perimeter, was already turning to follow. Meanwhile the Fast Clipper Grey's Hound moved to assess the condition of the 2 hit freighters, and the Cobra-class Destroyer D1-K13(the bridge crew called her Dickie) quickly shifted over from the convoy center to cover their position as the 2 larger escorts went on the hunt.

As the Frigate swung around, Carrilon took a vox receiver he'd asked for from an aide and keyed it. "Fleet command, this is Lethe Delta reporting a torpedo attack! 2 freighters have been hit, I suspect at least one Infidel Raider is responsible; myself and Lord Cadena are moving to attack."

Now free from the convoy formation, the 2 ships' plasma engines flared brightly as they streaked along the heretic torpedo's last vector. Minutes, then 10s of minutes passed. The enemy Raider would be hurrying to make their getaway now; the augurs on the 2 vessels were sweeping ahead, but they found nothing. Carrilon was getting frustrated. "Mr. Lipton! What's wrong with my augurs?"

"N-nothing sir! The Cadena's not picking anything up, either!" He responded as the crew still desperately searched.

That got Carrilon thinking. This wasn't the T'au, making measured risks and calculated retreats. This was Chaos. And the Lethe Delta's forward Surveyors, ordinarily what they'd rely on for closer range detection, were still spotty after the field repairs they'd been forced to make...

"Helm, evasive maneuvers now! Signal Cadena to do the same!"

Both Frigates swung away just in time, as another spread of torpedoes suddenly appeared on the rear surveyors aimed at the 2 escorts... from below. They narrowly missed once again, and as the 2 escorts' sensors were redirected to this new vector, they finally found their quarry: not one, but 2 Infidel Class Raiders, now both on full alert. Simultaneously, a signal came from D1-K13: 2 more Infidels had just powered up after slipping around the Frigates, heading straight for the convoy. They were already firing torpedo volleys and the Dickie was moving to intercept, despite the disadvantage in size and numbers. They needed to finish this fight quickly.

Lethe Delta couldn't turn around quick enough to engage first, and so the Lord Cadena did; she passed by her partner at just 20 kilometers, prow-mounted Lance already firing as she charged towards the Chaos craft. Carrilon watched with a faint smile as his bridge crew gave her a cheer. "Give 'em hell, Cadena."

The following battle was short but brutal; the 2 Raiders evaded Cadena's lance and got in close for a brawl, attempting to overwhelm the larger escort through numbers. However, the Lord Cadena's voidshields held and she returned fire with secondary batteries, damaging one raider and holding them back long enough for the Lethe Delta to swing around and unleash her own broadside. The damaged Infidel was quickly annihilated and the other made a run for it, trailing fire and plasma; Carrilon let her go.

"Cadena, what is your damage?" He asked over comms as the 2 Frigates got back into formation.

"Voidshields just about overloaded, some bumps and bruises, nothing more." The other Commander reported back. "Thanks for the assist!"

"Sir, Dickie reports the other 2 Infidels have entered weapons range." A comms officer then reported. "She's opening fire and requesting support. Graf Eagle and Graf Harry are moving from the other side of the convoy, but they'll take time to move through the formation."

"Lord Cadena will follow your lead, Commander." The other Captain added.

"Plot a return course then, flank speed." Carrilon ordered. "Signal any able transports to aid Dickie and hold off those Raiders, if possible."

Today would be a long day in his majesty's Imperial Navy...

=====

[So if you can't tell, this is heavily inspired by the movie Greyhound. I think Imperial Navy escorts and convoys are a pretty fun aspect of 40k fleet battles and wanted to write a fun bit! I'm also happy for anyone else who wants to get involved to help kill those last 2 Infidels, either as transports or the other named escorts]

As the bolt pistol smoke cleared, Commissar Atterine Vautte stepped over Colonel Grivrim's unconscious body and began to fasten his hands behind his back with multiple pairs of handcuffs. A temporary measure for sure, but the best she could do in this moment. "Paige, see to his knees."

His knees were bloody pulps where Vautte had double-tapped each of them as he tried to walk away from her. The calculus had been simple: Grivrim had first threatened her for her intention to submit a report detailing some of his subordinates' discussed assassination plan, and then refused her orders placing him under arrest for those threats by walking away. So she disabled his ability to walk away from her.

But now she had to handle the fallout from that decision. She pointed to the vox operators and their equipment on one side of the Taro 9th's command center. "Send a message to every Regiment encamped here. I require the presence of all Commissars on-base immediately. General Von Grimhoff, I also recommend you stick around for the moment. Then..."

She pulled out her own personal voxbeed and tossed it to the vox operators. "That will have a recording of the entire event on it. Send it to Lord Commissar Ivchenka. Mark it urgent, request that he get back to me immediately."

[OOC: I really just don't want to have to write out a summary for that whole mess as I'm trying to get this out quickly, so for now let's just say everything that happened on my previous post was caught on tape and is being sent unedited.]

"Finally..." She thought for a moment. "...is that Valyrran Valkyrie still present at the landing pads? I need their loading crew over here, immediately."

All over the Taronian part of the camp, guardsmen were roused from wherever they had been and given simple instructions: get your gear on and report to your stations. The last time they'd been given those simple instructions with no further elaboration was on Gryllus when Colonel Arvin punched a Valyrran Lieutenant in the back of his command Chimera... and not to mention the 5 bolt pistol shots that had just rung out from their command post. So they knew things were probably serious enough for them to hurry to their positions.

Luckily, they'd already been preparing to move out soon, so this wasn't too much of a hassle.

Meanwhile, as the command center once again became a frenzy of activity and space was clear for a work crew to patch the whole in the roof from Middenstraak's warning shot, Vallorie moved over towards Hawk and Buck. "Seems you 2 have gotten a stay of execution..."

She paused, then spoke more quietly. "For what it's worth... I'm sorry. I didn't know it'd come to this."

At Commander Strauss Von Grimhoff's HQ, Major Sasha Koragath was having a rough day. Hell, every Taronian command officer was; the Rocinante's scout mission had stirred up one hell of a debate that they now felt required Strauss' weigh-in.

"Sir?" She said when she found him. "There's been some... developments, the Taros 9th has been in a command meeting all afternoon. We want to call in you and the Kytekans, and whoever else... we're a bit torn on how to handle this, and feel it's time to escalate it up the chain."

She explained the dilemma as they walked to the 9th's command center through the camp.

=====

The headquarters staff were delivering the 5th round of recaf to the officers present as Major Emir Dahra wiped her face, and sighed.

"So, let's recap. We've got an enemy coastal town that managed to force down our recon Valkyrie. The Inquisition has quarantined the flight crew and confiscated the imager tapes, but we can guess that something interesting is going down over there if they managed to reach up 25,000 feet and get a shot at our bird. And the Inquisition is interested it. To add to that, we've already lost one Tarosi team in the area and 2 more are calling for permission to follow, and you lot want to drop artillery on it without consulting anyone else. Do I have that right?"

Commissar Vautte and Captain Doranz from 2nd SPG Company both nodded in the affirmative; they were in the aggressive camp, but not to such a degree that the Commissar was pulling authority over the Major. Captain Darny from 1st SPG Company shook her head quietly and folded her arms; she was in the no camp. Captain Tallek-Rodgers from 3rd Flak Company, who had just arrived back after stepping out for a bit, just frowned slightly, seemingly neutral but airing towards caution on this one.

"Right. Good." Dahra nodded, considering everything. "Well, I've decided to not make a decision for now; Major Koragath is on her way as we speak with Commander Strauss and a few others, and she should be filling them in on this clusterfuck on this way. I suggest we take a short recess, and you all can formulate your arguments while we wait."

The tension in the room noticeably lessened when she said that; everyone had been in this room all afternoon, and they were clearly tired of the back and forth arguments.

As everyone moved away from the central table, Captain Tallek approached Commissar Vautte. "Uh, ma'am? I have a... separate matter I'd like to bring to your attention."

Vautte raised an eyebrow, and gestured for her to continue.

Vallorie sighed as she idly pet Kearny, the dog holding station dutifully by her leg, then spoke. "When I was outside, Hawk... Trooper Tallek-Rodgers approached me. He told me that he and his old buddies in the 728th had met with some other associates in the Ork Hunters to talk about some things... what do you know about this business between them and the Valyrrans?"

Vautte's eyebrows quickly arched further- she was clearly familiar with the subject. "I am more concerned with what you know, Captain."

Vallorie continued with a nod. "Well, it seems that the whole affair has somehow attracted the attention of the Inquisition elements supervising the Valyrrans... which I've also had some experience with. But, they were throwing around some ideas to sort out the situation, including the possibility of more kinetic options, but they settled on petitioning Commander Von Grimhoff for his help and I assume protection on this matter."

Vautte was not prone to showing emotion, but her face now clearly showed a hint of alarm. Vallorie quickly continued talking. "Hawk was there for it, and he obviously refused any part in any of their plan... then he came right to tell me, since you were busy in here of course. And since Strauss is now coming here, I knew I had to tell you now."

By now, Vautte had regained mastery over her facial expressions.

"...Of course." she just said. "And I suppose they didn't discuss the specifics of any kinetic plan in front of him?"

Vallorie quickly nodded.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." She said, then walked off.

At her side, Kearny whined a little. Vallorie scratched his nose anxiously. "I know, boy... I know."

=====

"Ah, there you are." Dahra said when Strauss and the other officers entered the command center. "I assume you've been briefed? If so, we can-"

"Hold up!" Commissar Vautte stepped forward, drawing all eyes to her. "I have other matters to discuss with the Supreme Commander. The rest of you may discuss the current problem in the meantime."

Vallorie gulped, her slightly-glowing violet eyes meeting Strauss' as he was directed to a secluded and quiet corner of the room. Clearly she had something to do with this... but she stayed at the main table as the other officers gathered.