r/WarforTrackoldMinoris

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.

(apologies for the delay)

"Victory! Victory!" Valyrran and Cadian cheers could be heard from all over the palace. Finally conquered by the combined Cadian and abhuman force.

"Raise it high!" Someone shouted joined by hundreds more as they watched flags bearing the Roaring lion of Valyr and the Cadian Gate being erected atop the smoking ruin.

A tough battle. One that had cost all who took part in both lives and equipment. But it was yet another victory. Something all could be proud to have achieved. A fortress secured in a lightning strike taking only 48 hours.

Of course the Lord General's representatives were here alongside numerous propaganda creating officers holding pict recorders and even a news team which was receiving constant confused looks from passing guardsmen. The goal was rather clear though. After numerous disastrous battles and costly victories a big set piece battle that was won overwhelmingly by forces loyal to the Imperium would be a tremendous boost to morale. Especially as little could be shared from the ongoing bloodbath in the western half of the planet. General Redlina's victory at Fort D'escar was a much needed boost not just for morale but faith in the abhuman general... and by extension vindication for the Lord General whom had personally vouched for her.

Redlina however was nowhere to be seen. The propaganda units understandably looking for more... traditional officers such as McMahon and Du Montaal over a towering berserker abhuman. Glorious picts of Cadian & Kwalashan troops celebrating atop burnt out traitor emplacements were being taken while the more savage fanatical Cadians and the "feral" Valyrrans were kept mostly out of frame. The same again went for the armoured vehicles. Picts depicting mighty Baneblades and leman russ columns driving through the shattered gates were indeed a popular image. Carefully doctored to remove the Imperial losses that dotted the entire breadth of the fortress itself.

Victory. As would be reported to Erelvastian command. Tales of heroism. Tales of great military feats. Tales of Heroic sacrifices and martyrs in the Emperor's name. One footnote in the war for Trackold.

Quietly tucked out of sight was General Victoria Redlina. Sitting in her command crassus along with her returned son. Valtin Redlina had been stuck in what experts were calling a warp rift that had meant for those worlds caught within the warp storm two decades had passed while here on Trackhold barely a month had gone by.

The General had kept her emotions in check right up until the hatch of the crassus closed behind them. She turned to her son... now older than her with an expression Valtin had never thought he would see... Sadness.

"You should never have left Valyrr... after.."

"I made my choice."

"I know."

"You sent me away. To hide with Greim's people."

"I know..."

She repeated quieter this time. The frankly giant abhuman woman seeming to deflate.

"You could not have known."

He tried to reassure her reaching out a hand towards hers.

"Yet I let you go. I let them talk me into...."

She shook her head, letting out a snarl of rage.

She looked up to meet his red eyes with her own. It clearly hurt to see her own son... he reminded her of her long dead husband. Painfully so especially now that Valtin was older still.

"Did they treat you well?"

"Well enough. Quatre despite your hatred of her... looked after me."

"You dress and smell of Kestrel."

"I Can hardly have spent 20 years with just the Valyrrans you sent with me."

"What of them?"

"Most have died. Defeating Wolcotts creations. But the rest should still be with Greim.... wherever he is."

Victoria let out another growl at mention of the man whom they had a troubled history with.

"And you?"

"Its not even been a year for me Valtin."

"Then there’s time yet to make amends."

She looked up at him. He had changed. His anger was not gone... but dormant. Just like hers, they had quite the temper, it seemed to run in the family.

"I do not deserve your forgiveness A mother should not abandon her child. And I should never have sent you away a second time... even if I tried to protect you."

He seemed conflicted. This was not how he'd imagined it... in truth he had no idea what to expect. 2 decades of wondering and playing events out in his head had not prepared him for this.

So he did what any child would do when words failed... he hugged her.

Redlina seemed to freeze at the gesture. Her mind returning instantly back to Valyrr some 6 years prior when she had bid her family farewell before marching off to war beyond Valyrrs skies.

She hugged him back, a near bone-breaking vice like embrace as some of that repressed emotion was allowed out. A tear running down her cheek as she once again understood the price of service in the Emperor's Holy Astra Militarum, and the consequences of the cruel choices she had made in a misguided attempt at protecting her only son.

When the two left the crassus not a single sign of what had occurred was visible. Redlina as ever was a towering inferno of authority that none would dare question. She marched off in search of her command staff with Valtin following behind.

Lieutenant Luciel fell into step beside Valtin. They had work to do.

##########################################################################

Lord Commissar Lion was once again being hoisted above a large crowd of cheering Valyrrans.

Victory at the palace had again required his personal touch. Supporting the Cadians of the 532nd he had led what remained of the Valyrran vanguard into the fray surrounded by his competent and perhaps overzealous retinue. He knew better than to pause and had simply charged in hoping beyond hope that Rose would deflect any incoming fire meant to end his life then and there... she had indeed with a psyker borne violence he would struggle to forget for however long he lived.

Watching a heretic psyker turn inside out after she tried to get in his head was something he had not gone into today thinking he would witness. But it had happened and poor oats was still white as a bedsheet with her head in her hands off to the side with Marlon trying to reassure her after seeing it.

With victory being announced Lion had been swarmed in adoring Valyrrans from the as ever Commissar obsessed 14th Assault company, Major Mintons self proclaimed "Commissars lucky 14th" She had again demonstrated just how fanatical her belief in the sainthood he had given up trying to dissuade by charging in right after him with her command squad, banner flying high and deafening warcries overpowering whatever foul sorcery the enemy had planned to use to disrupt the guard upon entry. In the frantic melee that followed he had watched Minton overpower a Chaos ogryn by leaping forward into its chest and repeatedly punching its head with her power fist screaming something about "Lions" and "no fear". Her equally heroic... or insane depending on whom you asked, soldiers had following her in without pause.

Lion was effectively carried back out of the tainted palace and out onto the sandy desert at the steps and it took over an hour to get untangled from the celebrating Valyrrans and get transport back towards the HQ. He had of course said a few words and given praise where praise was due. The Commissar Worshipping Valyrrans taking that about as well as expected. He would deal with the aftermath later.

For now... he had disciplinary matters to attend to that had seriously dampened his mood. Major Exo had reportedly gone awol. He was determined to get to the bottom of this before Redlina heard anything...

##########################################################################

Caleb and Annabelles tour continued down another level into the barracks where almost a thousand Valyrrans appeared to be resting today. It was a maze. No signs, thousands of identical rectangular rooms which seemed to house groups of 4 and sometimes up to 10 Valyrrans and all their kit. No beds, no ameneties everything seemed to be incredibly spartan, just kit, armour and weapons and bodies... so many giant abhumans poor Annabelle had gone bright red and didnt know where to look. Especially as Valyrrans didnt seem to have any sense of common decency... sort of expected from a culture that didn’t seem to have privacy.

They had come here after Calebs repeated requests to see any of the Valyrrans who had protected them from capture by Carix's agents. Darwin seemed to do a good job at keeping most of the Valyrrans from doing anything. The berserker was by far the biggest one here though a good majority of the Valyrrans on this level appeared to be Inquisition agents. Most of the armour was black, many had inquisition rosettes and purity seals visible on or under armour.

Jess was again at the front. Pride or perhaps a stubborn streak meant she refused to let anyone else take over as tour guide.

"What was the name you wanted to see again? Jaski?" She muttered something Caleb couldnt make out from the noise. Tammy heard it though.

( For those curious they can read the escape in the comments of these. Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/r/WarforTrackoldMinoris/comments/1u2h6hh/1st_valyrran_part_18_time_waits_for_no_one/

Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/r/WarforTrackoldMinoris/comments/1u515nb/a_surprise_strike_an_unclear_goal/ )

"Must be a thousand Jaski's in theatre..."

"What were the other names? Can maybe narrow it down without asking Inquisition spooks to reveal their secrets..."

(Lilli, Dorsa and Daq.)

Eventually they found Lilli. She was slumped against a wall of one of the bare rooms, stripped down to her fatigues with something resembling a saline drip connected to her arm. One she had to hold up herself mind you. She seemed to be shaking still coming down from the drug induced high after she had been shot by the enemy's peculiar weapons.

Her still mud & blood covered armour was piled in the corner, alongside what appeared to be newly issued weapons. She didnt seem to react to their approach, the helpful stormtrooper that had helped them find her shrugged. "She's not the only one who got hit by them darts. everyone’s having a rough time but doc's say it will pass. Kills normal people though apaprently. Daq was the other one right? same unit. He's in medical. Dorsa is there too i think."

He then left the group to it joining a group of Valyrrans nearby who were playing Tarot with basically scraps of paper with badly drawn symbols on them instead of cards.

##########################################################################

With Victory being declared across the northern deserts. It seemed eyes were moving towards the Isle of Leffin. With ongoing operations underway to secure the macro elevators underway it was only a matter of time now until the siege of the island began in earnest.

Valyrran command was under no misconception that it was likely they would be sent that way. Valyrran armour was not suited to amphibious operations even if most of said armour was currently scrap metal after the horrendous material losses suffered storming the fortress this very day.

Soon columns of Valyrran infantry now resorted to marching were seen on the way towards the basin's edge. Whatever celebrations were planned had been put off as General Redlina had wasted no time in requesting immediate orders from the Lord General who had praised her troops performance before confirming that yes... Leffin was the target. And Redlina would command the attack.

Strauss received the perhaps unwelcome information that Redlina was on her way by Valkyrie. And he had mere hours to finish clearing up before she arrived proper. Commissar Middenstraak and a small force of Valyrrans were already here "representing" the 1st but generally just standing there and watching the Cadians with clear mistrust.

 In the town that the 1066th were reinforcing, it was late evening and rain was heavy. 

 Rachel felt an itch, one that needs scratching.

 So she went on a walk, finding her target nearby.

 A soldier on was on his own, for whatever reason, it was a relatively safe area here after all, and few suspected any danger.

 She walked up slowly, careful not to draw her attention. The rain masking her footprints. This particular soldier was in some turmoil with others, so the rumours said. Nothing to do with her, she’d be last on the list of suspects.

 Only a metre away, her datasheet suddenly screeched at full volume.

 Swearing under breath, by the time Livi turned around she had it out, staring at the screen.

 It screeched a few more times.

 ‘Whoops.’ She sighed, then tapped the button.

 ‘You okay?’

 ‘Just… Passing through.’ She noted. Sliding the knife back into her rear pocket without him seeing.

 ‘What’s that?’

 She looked at the screen. ‘It’s in Tuatha, it’s a dehydration alert. Kestrel Authority blast this on every slate.’ Her eyes wavered. ‘means some must be planetside…’

 ‘Huh.’ She noted. ‘You need a walk back? It’s dangerous out here.’

 She glanced up. ‘From you? Ew.’

 Leaving her confused she turned and marched off. Back into Crossbers walls and past the sentries. It did not take time for her to find a newer, far less hostile target. ‘Hey. Leo.’ She said nervously, walking up to him. ‘I thought you might-‘

 Her dataslate screeched again. ‘ugh.’ She snatched it out. Very loud pitched. This time the message repeated in gothic.

 Around them people stopped and stared.

 ‘It’s nothing.’ She said aloud. It was clear she wasn’t used to speaking with groups. When they went she turned back to Leo. ‘I uh… wanted to let you know that you two officer you were asking about are arriving today.’

 

 /////////////////////////

 

 (General 1066th posts can go here).

"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.

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.

Gary knew a lot, he reckoned, but his time amongst the 1066th had made him realise how lucky he was to have a publicly funded education, if an education at all. probably should have paid attention in class. None of this was so clear as now, looking over the map and directions with no clue on what he was doing.

 The job was simple. they had to make a train yard. Or get one up and going.

 The building had been selected on criteria he didn’t fully get, other it was big. Areas had been marked out, plans had been drawn out, a few limited numbers of trucks had brought down the pieces. The details had been explained to him, but he’d given up, they seemed to think he had a better understanding of what was going on. His blank looks dissuaded them of such notions. 

 With a few swaps he found himself with a hammer, doing the heavy job of lifting part of the track to be nailed into the floor. That wasn’t the right term, or specifics, but around what he was doing.

 Large mallet in hand, he had to swing it and then the long metal bit would stay in place.

 More or less.

 A lot of the men and women had rolled up their sleeves, it was hot though and he undid his shirt. That caused a series of whooping from the women around him.

 ‘Yeah, yeah…’ he ignored them and removed it, swinging the mallet to a loud dink sound. 

‘Huh.’ 

 He looked up, one of the women from the passing supervisors was looking with a quizzical tone. An older black woman, hair falling across her left eye. She seemed to muse on something. 

 He smiled in a bemused manner. 

‘I take it you’re Fairweather then.’ she noted. ‘I expected something different.’

 He turned his head slightly. ‘Did you?’ 

 ‘I’m just saying. I’ve heard a lot. Aren’t you supposed to be strong. You should look like that actor, what’s his name, from the posters by the rundown cinema.’ 

 ‘I am strong.’ He swung the mallet, knocking the peg all the way in in a single go. 

 ‘Impressive.’

 ‘This is- this is what real strength looks like.’ He knocked the next one as soon as he put it in the ground. He smirked. ‘What did you expect?’

 ‘Gutters.’

 *‘Gutters?’*

 ‘Yeah, like a… You know…’ she made a V shape gesture with her hands.

 He knocked the next peg in. ‘How rude. It’s there, just underneath. It’s not… this is what a normal healthy person looks like. Not on steds or dehydrated.’

 ‘But aren’t you the guy who is enhanced? Like surgically? You seem very caught off guard. Very wishy-washy.’

 He stopped. ‘I didn’t think I’d have to defend myself to this extent.’

 She laughed. ‘I’m not saying it’s bad.’

‘Anyway, I don’t think I caught your name, would you like my opinion on you? Is it my turn?’

 She stretched, gesturing to herself. ‘Go on.’

 He shook his head. ‘I ain’t falling for that, but you’re rude so you’re defiantly an officer. Hmm. What’s your rank?’

 Her arm band had been incidentally turned away over the conversation, she covered it. ‘Guess.’ Her uniform was non-existent, mostly wearing black pants, a vest and a once very clean but now marked loose white shirt.

 He placed the next peg down and swung for it. ‘Going by your age, Butter-Bar.’

 She snorted. ‘Aren’t you a flatterer.’

 ‘It just comes natural.’

 ‘Well no, I’m not a lieutenant, how do you even know I’m an officer. Maybe I’m just a rude private?’

 ‘if you’re no then what are you doing up there with that clipboard, come down here and help us.’

 ‘I’d rather watch.’

 ‘You sure you’re not an officer?’

 ‘Well I-‘

 There was a not too far away sound of whirring that caused her head to turn sharply. A distant tree fell down. ‘Crap!’

 He turned to see a knight, an armiger, cutting through a tree in the distance.

 ‘The hell are they?’ he mused.

 ‘House Vora, they’ve come to help. But that’s the wrong way! I gotta go.’ She began to run.

 ‘Didn’t get your name?’ he called after her.

 She span back to shout without stopping. ‘Find out. That’s an order.’ Then, span to carry on.

 He gave a single chuckled, almost shocked, before shrugging and turning back to the task at hand. His next swing was kind of meager, only getting the peg half-in. The thought passed his mind. It had been… what… two years since he last… A sudden nervousness came over him.

 He shook it off and glanced at the armigers.

 Rarely had he seen them up close. Kestrel manuals described how to fight one, but even so, seeing them for real, they moved more agile than he had expected, almost cartoonishly. He was glad he wouldn’t have to fight one.

 

 

////////////////////////////////////////

 

 Elsewhere Lance-Corporal Rachel Zhang was putting las-beams downrange of whatever this practice range was called. It was an outdated kestrel Sub-volley gun, a hotshot variant of a sub-machine auto-gun. Retired from service and mothballed when they switched away from stormtroopers to grenadiers and got bigger ones, this she had kept for herself from the armoury collection.

 Her data-slate was set aside and receivers put down the end of the range. 

 The mounds of dirt that had dug further down vaporised small blasts of sparks every time the white hellgun bolts struck it. 

 It was more powerful than the lasguns she had trained on, more accurate too. Other kestral lasguns of the more normal variety had been strewn about Acwyns new company, weaker per shot than the previous ones but more lightweight and still enough to kill.

 She paid attention as the shots connected. The testing of the HUD system working.

 A slight melancholy feeling crossed her mind.

 But no.

 No.

 She had to get good at this.

 Just in case.

7 hours sleep, that was all he had gotten in a week.

 Sebastian and Maria had not stopped, nor had the Canthians en-mass. The war-winners were… were…

 He wanted to say incredible but that was not right. only when he took them. Only when they were fresh.

 The enemy had been driven to the trenches and pushed off, so relentless were the canthians that the second trench belonged to them more or less.

 But, that had cost a lot of lives. Now they had been ordered to stop, and they were restless.

 The time in this stolen bunker was making people twitch. Throw up. adverse affects to the pills.

 Sebastian felt exhaustion slowly return the longe the stayed put, the distant sound of explosions dulled out the safer they were. He saw three guardsmen in front freak out, shiver, shaking their heads.

 Maria was pacing. Shaking her arms. A far cry from how she had been in their original battle.

 ‘You need to rest.’ he groaned, the words hurting as they left.

 ‘I can’t stop.’ She shook her head. ‘Neither can he. Look’

 She getsured to another trooper who immediately collapsed, shivering. ‘I can still go.’

 ‘It’s been days. Sebastian said. You need rest too.’

 ‘No. no. no you can’t… you can’t make me…’ they trailed off weakly.

 He looked ack to maria. ‘Come on.’

 ‘I need ot fight. I need to feel. I need to sprint and – and-‘ as she walked back and forth, her body was far more tired than her mind. Spittle now caked the front of her fatigues and the once tidy braids were now a mess.

 ‘You need to calm down!’ he said, grabbing his head. ‘What is in those things!?!’

She plonked herself down besides him, shifting constantly. twitching. Fidgeting. ‘Wanna f*ck’

 ‘Ew. No.’

 She shook again. ‘You sure?’

 ‘Are you serious?’ he asked.

 ‘I dunno. Maybe.’

 ‘No. Eww. No. You need to calm down!’

 Her eyes darted, barely registering.

 ‘Maria, please, listen to me, I don’t… I don’t think these pills are good for us. You would never have said that normally.’

 She stared. ‘What are you talking about? they helped us win! They brought us victory!’

 He covered his face. ‘I need to sleep.’

 She shook. ‘I need- I need- I need-‘

 The bunker doorway opened and the officer entered. ‘New orders! push onwards.’

 The troops all looked up, a mix of faces.

 ‘Here.’ he tossed them a fresh bag of war-winners. 'Generalissimos orders. take these, you’ll feel like you just woke up.'

 Maria didn’t even wait. She more or less barrelled Sebastian aside to get at them first, wrestling with four others to tear open the bag. He just made eye contact with the lieutenant, who shrugged and left.

 

////////////////////////

 

 The chaos forces had pulled back out the trenches and were retreating, again. Valorus, the traitor astartes, the executioner held the ground on his own, a hill that he was over the side of, axe swinging constantly. buying time for his forces to pull back. Two marines were him, and beserkers elsewhere, but otherwise he was on his own for the moment, not that it mattered.

 

 More and more blue uniformed and silver wearing sodliers came up over the hill.

 He swung, bisecting two more,

 Struck. Killing three with three strikes.

 Lasbeams rippled his armor. but there was enough residual rock formations and pockmarked hills to avoid concentrated fire.

 He charged, suddenly and violently, smearing more.

  **‘I’m so tired…’** he muttered in a moment of brief reprieve.

 A fresh set of screaming, more came over the top, screaming war cries unable to be made out, slamming down heavy weapons and firing.

 He groaned, and kept fighting.

 

(D20 for canthian attempt to push on = 10. Stalled progress).

Colonel Madeline Rittenhouse hated war, and she hated it even more fiercely because she was good at it.

For the majority of her adult life since the elite boarding scholas of the Praetorian countryside, where she went after her childhood in the upper-class estates of the province of Albion, war had been her livelihood. First, she had gone to the wars out of professional obligation – family tradition – all those things that make someone commit to a career in the first place. She served her time on the frontier, despising the squalor and the dismal state of many of the battles she fought in, and longing to return home. Then she had met her husband in the officer’s clubs and golf courses of mid-grade career staff jobs at South Downs, among many other home front assignments, and to stay in the Guard was clearly the path forward for them both. But then it was back to the field when she took over as XO of the 27^(th), as her record was too good to avoid field assignments. She could only stay home on training duties so long before they sent her back out, and her husband too, in opposite directions. The Imperium had no provision for couples to request contemporaneous tours of duty, so their leave periods almost never lined up. Even while most of the regiment – then-Colonel Braithwaite included – had been reunited with their families just a year or so ago after Gryllus, Madeline was unable to see her husband, Charles, for more than two days.

War, or planning for it, or dreading it, or recovering from it, was all she knew, save the few occasional months snatched away at their quiet home in the country. Having children had never been much of an option for the Rittenhouses – not with their demanding schedules, and the fertility problems they found they struggled with on top of their existing challenges – so all they had was each other. Despite the hard-edged reputation of the brunette senior officer among her troops, her marriage was quite healthy, and in fact rather passionate, though in a deeply private way. Anyone who knew what Madeline and Charles were like when they were alone together, solving crossword puzzles and snuggling under a hand-quilted blanket made by her grandmother, would scarcely recognize the flashing eyes and cold demeanor that she tended to show in the field. The truth was, really, that her anger at the vagaries and frustrations of military life boiled over into every interaction that reminded her of her place out here in the field, fighting aliens, not at home with her husband like she so desperately wanted to be. And so, she had risen to Colonel, with a reputation to be feared and a service record that was unquestioned despite her coldness.

She knew what they said about her in the ranks. They mocked her for her lack of apparent sense of humor and her severity, griped about her mercilessness, and spoke of her with anger or with fear. Some called her “Old Rebar” when they thought she wouldn’t hear of it – but she did. And yet, she didn’t change her ways. For when you had once committed to ruling by fear and by the strength of your will, to back off and let go of control was more frightening than going over the top in the trenches again.

And one final thing rattled Madeline to the core, though she never would speak of it openly. The report from the intelligence officers who had interrogated the prisoner in Communion, Ensign Chapman-Hodges, had named a Colonel Mary Sedgefield as the commanding officer of the enemy traitor Praetorian regiment…and Sedgefield was her own maiden name, before she had married into the equally wealthy Rittenhouses. She had been told once that she had a cousin around her age named Mary, but when she had asked about what happened to her, she was flatly told “she died” and the subject was changed. Was it possible that this could be the same woman, after all these years of wondering? It would be some family reunion indeed to be on opposite ends of a war…

/////

After extensive troubleshooting, the 119^(th)’s long range communications systems were finally back online. “Bloody finally,” muttered the tech as she crawled out from beneath the holotable in the Arsenal of Democracy. “You’re all set, General,” said the tech, saluting and jogging off to apply the encryption update that the tech-priests had created to the rest of the HQ vehicles. The start of a new month’s encryptions and a few transposed digits in a coded transmission were enough to completely scramble the regiment’s ability to keep high command informed about their activities, immediately in the tail end of the battle for Dubhan. Now, what remained of the logs from the battle were being transmitted post-haste, though a large amount of data was missing due to file corruption.

/////

Port Dubhan, Old City/Port Complex. 0600 hours

2^(nd) Battalion’s assaults the previous day had opened a lot of ground for the main regiments to advance. Once the enemy were in retreat, the major armored units of the 119^(th) were surging through the streets of Dubhan in no time, accompanied by half tracks full of Amercadian engineers clearing traps and anti-tank mines while Chimeras roared down main avenues and roads with cluster after cluster of Praetorians. Anything that didn’t look like part of the port infrastructure was broken down and if necessary, razed entirely rather than waste time and energy on clearing every single building.

The final assault push began at dawn after holding the furthest line of advance overnight, with Major Sherman’s main battle tanks parked in street corners and intersections, flanked by the heavy slow infantry tanks of Captains Tennyson and Mattingly. On the far flank of the city, the lightweight units of the division (placed under the control of the unpredictable but skilled Major Rawlings) had cleaned up house without significant issue, securing the sides of the advance against unwanted enemy infiltrators and making the final push a narrow front. Ideally, the initial plan had been to insert the Royal Heavy Grenadiers in force to make an opening in the port’s entrenched defenses, but that plan had to be modified by the sudden extrication of a large chunk of regular and heavy grenadiers for a mission to [ERROR: INFORMATION REDACTED – CLEARANCE REQUIREMENT NOT MET].

Instead, a wedge of up-armored Chimeras were fitted with dozer blades to break through the sandbag walls ahead of the Imperial advance, and the remaining heavy grenadiers were divided into groups to lead each regular grenadier company. Line infantry units, meanwhile, were posted up in the remaining buildings that were high enough to provide line of sight, and had fields of fire for their rifles (and the Amercadian missile launcher teams that joined them) looking down the avenues of advance. When the sun was just about to rise, General Braithwaite gave the order to advance, and – ERROR 559: DATA NOT FOUND // BREAK OPERATION

Resuming…Found log replay file 0808.sdf. File is encrypted. Decoding…done. Transcript follows:

/////

Port Dubhan, Old City/Port Complex. 0800 hours

>(noise of distant explosion)

>UNKNOWN TROOPER: “Shite, someone clipped a promethium tank over by the waterfront!”

>SERGEANT PERKINS: “Boys! TIME TO MOVE!”

>OGRYN BONE’EAD BOBBY: “You got it boss. Y’all go on and git through that alleyway!”

>(heavy Ogryn footsteps going into the distance, shotgun blasts)

>(tires screech, footsteps, sound of vox operator catching their breath)

>CORPORAL PERRY: (undertone) “Whew, glad they’re on our side.”

>PERRY: “You asked for a vox, sir?”

>MAJOR HANCOCK: “I did, thank you, Corporal.” (button clicking noises) “Major Sherman, this is Major Hancock. What is your status?”

>MAJOR SHERMAN (over vox, broken with static): “Good morning, Major. Five enemy tanks have been neutralized. We have two Mars-pattern Russes in need of track repairs and one Matilda crew that bailed out after a fire, but all other assets are operational. Second Engineers Company is on site for assistance in clearing a field of tank traps leading into the container yard. I have Major Wilson-Blakely on the line from the left flank if you’d like to hear her report as well.”

>HANCOCK: “Patch her through.”

>(distant explosion)

>MAJOR WILSON-BLAKELY (over vox): “Wilson-Blakely speaking.”

>HANCOCK: “Major, good to hear from you. This is Major Hancock at the forward HQ. What is the status of the container yard assault from the west?”

>WILSON-BLAKELY: “Good morning, sir. Spot of bother at the gate but after that the assault has been on schedule. Light infantry had to do a bit of wire cutting to create an entrance, then we put five Chimeras through and sent a platoon round each side of the main loading terminal. No issues with offshore fire yet. Holding position for armored support from the East.”

>(tank treads rumbling)

>UNKNOWN TROOPER: “Can’t this fething thing go any faster, eh?”

>UNKNOWN VEHICLE DRIVER: “Missy, would you like to get out and push?”

>(vehicle treads noise dissipates)

>HANCOCK: “Good. Keep me updated. Thank you, Major.”

>SHERMAN: “I currently have my men holding three lines of advance, sir, down Fifth, Gateway, and Second avenues. Requesting permission to push through the east side of the container yard toward the main docks once the tank traps are clear, I estimate – one-zero minutes.”

>HANCOCK: “Good copy, Major. One moment please.”

>(button pushing noises, distant tank main guns firing)

>HANCOCK: “General, Major Hancock reporting. Major Sherman and Major Wilson-Blakely report favorable progress on the west flank down Fifth, Gateway, and Second avenues. Estimated one-zero minutes till the path is clear for primary advance toward objectives Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. Request permission to proceed into the harbor complex.”

>GENERAL BRAITHWAITE (over vox): “Proceed, Major. Good copy on all, I see your status on the board. Make it happen.”

>HANCOCK: “Understood, ma’am. Thank you.”

>(button pushing noises, aircraft engines overhead fading into distance)

>HANCOCK: “Sherman, Major Hancock again. You have permission to proceed in one-zero minutes or when the path is clear. Drive the bastards into the sea.”

>SHERMAN: “With pleasure, sir.” (rustling noise on vox) “Get me second platoon lead!” (vox clicks)

>End of file 0808.sdf…proceeding to next file…file not found! Proceeding to next folder in archive…decrypting…

/////

The tanks and infantry had reached the final stretch to the last piers of the harbor now, and the water of the coast was in sight, as were the ships parked in the harbor, sparkles of gunfire glinting in the air from the aftermath of the Riverine’s assault and the infiltration team…

(resolved in comments below once harbor assault is done)

/////

>(NOTE: This part of the bit is separate from the combat, I just wanted to go ahead and resolve it)

Four days later

Fort Davies, Lora MacRae HQ Building, Commissariat Courtroom

“Bailiff, bring in the accused, please,” said the cold Valhallan voice. Commissar Jensen presided over the summary court-martial, looking impassive as usual from behind a podium at which she was seated, blue eyes piercing the crowd with a searching stare and her blonde hair disappearing neatly behind her cap. To her right at a lower seat, her court clerk, the diminutive senior yeoman Claire Fleming, sat with a typewriter before her, and to the Commissar’s left was a small stand for witnesses to speak. No chairs or tables were set out for the accused, nor was there a space for defense lawyers or a jury – this was a summary court martial, subject to Commissariat authority alone.

Two Amercadian MPs marched in, flanking a pair of Praetorian officers in their full red-coated dress uniforms, both women already sweating copiously in the heat despite the air conditioning’s work to keep the room tolerably cool. “Phoebe D’Ysquith and Sibella Hayward,” Jensen’s voice rang out, “I have here a report of Offense and Disposition that charges you with the following violations of the Code of Military Justice: Article 86 – Absence Without Leave. Article 114 – Dueling. Article 128 – Assault and Aggravated Assault. Article 133 – Conduct Unbecoming an Officer and a Lady.” Her eyes swept the blonde and the brunette before her, Phoebe still looking pale and tired from her extensive recovery. “How do you plead?” the Commissar asked coolly. Sibella met the Commissar’s eyes. “Guilty, ma’am,” she said quietly. “Miss D’Ysquith?” “Guilty, ma’am,” echoed the brunette. This was perhaps, those who knew them would be able to tell, one of the only times they had seen the two agree on anything.

Jensen made a note coolly. “Very well. I will now consider matters in extenuation or mitigation,” she continued. In the front row, Colonel Rittenhouse watched attentively beside Lieutenant-Colonel Darnaway and the rest of the senior staff of the base, having flown in for the trial to make it clear just how seriously the 119^(th) was taking this case. It didn’t help these two foolish girls’ chances that four of the division’s most senior officers – Major Ferguson, Lieutenant-Colonel Potts, Colonel Rittenhouse, and General Braithwaite herself – all had fairly recent and extremely negative experiences with dueling. Witnesses were called to discuss the nature of the case as it was investigated. The seconds and two medics all described the fight in broad sweeping terms, delicately trying to avoid taking any further responsibility for being an accessory to the event – an effort for which they were mostly successful because Jensen had already filed letters of reprimand for all four, and so they had little else to hide. If anything, they were being so thorough that it seemed to any observer – and this was an accurate perception – that they wanted to try to save their own necks by hanging the two combatants out to dry.

/////

“Please state your name, rank, and assignment for the record,” said the quiet voice of the clerk. “Róisín Elizabeth Leary, Captain, Medic Company Able.” “Captain, is it correct that these two officers are your subordinates?” said Jensen. “That’s correct, ma’am,” said Leary with a nod. Even knowing she wasn’t the one on trial, Leary was sweating in her slightly more formal version of the desert khaki uniform, comparable to that worn by the senior officers of the regiment. She pitied Phoebe and Sibella, who were likely total puddles of sweat by this point as they stood before the Commissar, never having been given an order to relax or sit. “Captain, how long have you known the accused?” continued Jensen. “About twelve or thirteen months now, Commissar.” “And how would you describe their relationship?” “…Mutual distaste, Commissar. Neither ever seemed to be able to get along with the other.” “What actions did you take?” Leary explained all the times she had advised the two to put their differences aside and work together, and the disciplinary action she had finally threatened them with if they misbehaved while she was at the front.  Finally, after half an hour of detailed questions about Phoebe and Sibella’s work habits, she was released to return to the gallery, to her great relief. Leary hated this whole damned business, and dearly wished things could be different. But here they were, watching her troops reap the rewards of their own stupidity.

/////

“Please state your name, rank, and assignment for the record,” said the quiet voice of the clerk. “Madeline Jessica Rittenhouse, Colonel, Commanding Officer, XXVIIth Praetorian Infantry.” “Colonel, thank you for your time. I’ll get straight to the point,” said Jensen, dropping some of her earlier formalities so as not to waste the commanding officer’s time making her statement. “These two officers are guilty by their own admission of breaking multiple severe regulations, for which the punishment is allowed to be up to death. Do you find these officers valuable?” The coldness of the question caught Leary by surprise in the audience, but Rittenhouse seemed to take it in the spirit of honest inquiry. “Based on their supervisor’s testimony and their own, Commissar, it seems to me that they have important skills. How they go about using their time and their talents is another matter,” she said, her eyes sweeping the accused, “but they are well trained.” “Very well, Colonel. And your recommendation as their commanding officer?”

Rittenhouse looked at the two accused with something between pity and distaste. Fighting over some man, some rumors had said? What did they know of real love, hmm? How many hours had they sacrificed on the altar of devotion amid a life of duty and detachment? “Commissar, per proposal A submitted to the court’s consideration, I have recommended the accused for punitive transfer. Their skills should not be wasted, but their continued service in this regiment would besmirch its proud name.” Jensen nodded along, while they all caught a flinch from both Phoebe and Sibella at the sound of the first part of their punishment. Rittenhouse continued: “I also have recommended the accused be stripped of all rank, privileges, and identifying marks as officers,” she bore down, ignoring the slightly greenish tinge that was coming into both women’s faces. Jensen nodded. “Very well. After a brief recess we will proceed to sentencing.” She rapped a small gavel on the podium, and everyone was allowed to relax and move around – the accuseds were dismissed to get some temporary rest, and Jensen stepped away from the table and stretched.

/////

“Miss D’Ysquith and Miss Hayward,” said Jensen after a lengthy discussion on the necessity of the regulations the two of them had violated, “I will now pronounce sentence. Having found you guilty on all charges by your own admission, I hereby remand you to the 27^(th) Praetorian chain of command for immediate reduction in rank to Specialist, retroactive forfeiture of one-half pay for four months, twenty lashes each, and proceedings for discharge from His Imperial Majesty’s Praetorian Guard for immediate assignment to the 1066^(th) Penal Regiment at the earliest convenience of its commanding officer.” There was a sudden thud as Phoebe fainted and slowly toppled over. No one stirred to catch her under the glare of the commissar till Jensen said: “Get her on her feet.” The MPs had been replaced at Jensen’s instruction by two of Major Ferguson’s 4^(th) Battalion veteran sergeants, who now stepped forward and roughly shook her awake. “Colonel?” said Jensen, looking to Rittenhouse. “Proceed, sergeants,” said Rittenhouse, hardening her sympathies against the young junior officers. “Let there be no delay in carrying out the Commissar’s sentence.” The sergeants wasted no time in confiscating Phoebe and Sibella’s uniform coats, blouses, rank insignia, and uniform caps, then marched the condemned duo out of the room in their sleeveless undershirts and trousers. Sibella stared straight ahead, her expression slack and numb from despair, while Phoebe sobbed the whole way out.

/////

TO: 1066^(th) PENAL REGIMENT HQ

FROM: MAJ. THERESE WILCOX, XO, XXVII^(th) PRAETORIAN HQ, FORT DAVIES

SUBJ: PERSONNEL TRANSFER REQUEST

1.      Due to recent disciplinary proceedings, I recommend the following now-discharged personnel for assignment to your unit:

a.      Phoebe D’Ysquith (former rank: Second Lieutenant)

b.      Sibella Hayward (former rank: Second Lieutenant)

2.      Service records for each member are attached as enclosure (a), and the record of court-martial sentencing is attached as enclosure (b).

3.      Thank you for your time and attention to this matter. Physical transfer of personnel, if accepted, may be arranged via SEPCOR.

4.      Fort Davies HQ sends.

WILCOX.THERESE.JEAN.2750170928//RELEASED AT 1700L____.M42

### Thought for the day: Inaction breeds contempt. ####

/////

(My apologies to everyone I have kept waiting. The combat bit was a rollicking success with an 18/18)

Up north upon the eastern front was a way that looped around a large lake and presented a route to get behind the imperials. In theory. In reality the chaos forces had not committed here and it was guesswork why.

Rhyonians before their redeployment to the west had ventured long range scouts who testified of mountain tribes that didn’t get on with them. The mountains led down to arid land described as too dangerous to traverse. It was overall considered too risky for enemy forces to traverse in suitable number to perform an assault across the river necessary to get around.

 Regardless, it had to be seen to.

 The erelvastians had been tasked with this job. Crossing the water from whatever direction they wished, shallow enough to be less hazardous, would allow them to reach the heightened mountain villages with ease.

 Here, awaiting them, were nomadic people, one central village a sophisticated town though to the erelvastian standards utterly barbaric. Its people donned head to toe, wearing face masks and carrying large rifles for mountain warfare’s extreme ranges.

 

//////////////////////////////////////////

 

The Augustinians had taken a large brunt of the casualties up front, and Bauer found herself cursing solemnly the fragility of such a force as her own unit made back around to join in the battle.

 It was a mess. She had disembarked by now with the others and they made their way forward, low and quick, towards the trenches.

 The hole that had been punched through was marked by burning tanks. Though many imperial shad continued on, in this particular point it was scattered, with few guardsmen placed to defend their opening.

  ‘We need to advance, get an eye on what we’re looking at.’

The breach was a mess. Tanks had burnt from green to brown. She saw one dorn that had been hit by some much anti-tank weaponry she could only imagine the crews remains inside were naught but atoms.

 Guardsmen were milling about looking for survivors, tech-priests for stuff they could salvage or save, but most guardsmen were defending the sides of the breach against a possible counter attack, or passing through.

 As they waked she saw movement. ‘Orland, you see that?’

 ‘Survivors marshal?’

 The figure emerged and sprant at Bauer. An enemy combatant, but, not a soldier class. Something less fortunate and more desperate. dressed in rags and a t shirt.

‘No!’ she fired, putting them down.

 As they fell, there was a beep and then an explosion.

 It was far enough to not hurt but close enough she could feel the blast. The sound of gunfire echoed as random shots flew after.

 ‘Sargent!’ she fired. Taking someone down.

 Orland looked momentary struck, then quickly forced something out. ‘Uh-Uh-AMBUSH! Return fire!’

 The squad dropped to prone or behind whatever they could. Firing back immediately. The enemy had not been prepared for their suicide bomber to go off so early.

 Bauer shot someone else three times as grenades were thrown at the chaos forces. Flashes of smoke and bangs prevented her from shooting another but now there was a grey wall between them and the enemy.

 ‘Assault! Now! Everyone!’

Immediately the squad split in two. The heavy weapons staying back to fire, those with small arms racing in to close the distance.

 (12) what could have been an ambush turned against the enemy. Thrown off their initial advantage by the Guardsmens quick and decisive movement.

 Bauer finished off a final one by the time the other guardsmen nearby came to help, weaving through the tank wrecks. The person before her was fighting to the last, swinging their knifeshe had little choice but to put them down.

 Sword slashing. A quick movement. They had no chance.

 Seconds later Canthians flooded the scene. She glanced at Orland, who was breathing heavily.

 ‘Excellent work sargent.

 The young woman looked up, wiping something off her face. ‘Yes marshal!’

 ‘I believe we’ll make an officer of you yet.’

 She nodded. ‘Maybe you can teach me to sword fight?’ she suggested.

/////////////

 Years ago…

 Bauers wooden sword clashed with Mayas, the girl having gotten better at it with the years that passed.

 It was Erelvastian style, the Serpican had been getting better. Though in truth Bauer always pulled back.

 This time though maya parried her by throwing her body into Bauer, crashing them to the floor. Her sword fell from her hand while maya still had hers. She held it pointed at Bauers neck.

 ‘Maya! That's not how it goes!’

‘Yield?’

‘That’s not the technique.’

‘I won so I have a better technique. I' m just that good, you should be amazed’

 ‘In a real fight, if you fought with honor and technique, I’d beat you.’

 ‘then I guess I’ll play dirty.’

 Before Bauer could reply back maya planted her mouth on hers, hand reach through Bauers shirt. The two of them spoke between breathes.

‘Why do we- have to- practice?’

 ‘I need you to be safe. Other one.’

 Mayas hand moved the other side. ‘I am safe.’

‘If you need – to fight- I need to know…’

 

////////////////////////////

 

 Present.

 Bauer looked at Orland a moment, pausing. ‘It is not as helpful as you think. I put myself in danger each time.’

 ‘Maybe I can teach you to shoot the plasma pistol then Marshal? You never use it. and I’ve seen your aim.’

 A slight curl formed on the side of Bauers lips but she supressed it. ‘Don’t be cheeky sergeant. It is unbecoming’

 ‘Yes marshal.’ Then Orland turned and whistled loudly.

 The horses ran up, the troopers having now crossed the breach, and danger passed, for the moment. They mounted back up and carried on.

 

The desert was frail, yet livelier than ever. A small little creature, native to the world, turned up upon some rocks and overlooked a sight its brain could barely comprehend. On Holy terra this would be compared to a lizard, although it was different enough biologically. For one its eyesight was incredible and it could pick out every details up and to the horizon.

It saw the Augustinian horses and Russes reach the trenches. A smattering of fire was given, tut they failed to make a dent.

 In fact a lot of them were cut up. the trenches defenses sophisticated as they were heavy. They pulled back quickly but had taking a battering. Artillery fire tried to cover their advance but the enemy were too dug in.

 (Augustinians d20 = 3. Casualties = 4. No success, high casualties.)

 To the not-lizard, once named ’Slick’ by some children who once a year ago saw it pass by, this was all visually clear yet made little sense.

 Next it saw the second wave. Heavy tanks and up gunned APCs known as chimeras moving in. they went for a weaker spot pointed out by their initial wave and the green vehicles pushed through, surpassing the trench line in an impossible to see wall of smoke. Such a thing was costly however, no way about it. The enemy made them pay dearly. They broke through, yet few tanks made it further. Explosions rippling where they stood.

 (Kestrels: d20 = 12. Casualties = 1. Successful breakthrough but no further. Complete loss of assaulting party.)

 Elsewhere it saw more spread out a wave of assaults form humans dressed in blue and silver. Their tenacity ferocious, pushed on by war-winning pills, they had been relentlessly chasing down the enemy over 3 days without sleep. The enemy was tired, the blue soldiers were not. now backed up by artillery and closely following sentinels, their own victory was easy. They pushed the enemy back, but failed to have enough left over to follow onwards.

 (Canthians: d20 = 15. Casualties = 3)

 Finally, it saw elsewhere small fast vehicles race in where the tanks had been. Eager not to let the opening fall. Supported by fast attack VTOLs, the Taurox Primes surged through the opening created by the tanks and made deep into the enemies line. Continuing the breakthrough.

 (Raptors roll 1d20 as a glass cannon unit. Higher than 11 determines a 2d20 take best roll. Lower than 10 determines a 2d20 take worst. This is to represent their flaky nature going forward. In this case they scored a 19, then with 2d20, another 19).

 None of this meant anything to the lizard, who turned away to scurry off, before being promptly eaten by something bigger than itself.

 Such was the way of the desert.

 

/////////////////////

 

Summary:

Augustinian fail.

Canthian success but no progress due to casualties.

Kestrel success but no progress due to casualties.

Raptors: Success and progress made.

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 ]

[20, 5]

The scream had come down the vox once the multi level storage hanger had been found. Orders were to establish a perimeter until Grivrim with the helpful Ogryns, and some combat engineers, could get there with the psy jammer.

The Ork Hunters that had sent the vox were found, lying in wait. It seems the psychic influence over their minds hadn't dulled their skills for ambush. With a click an explosion triggered wiping one squad, save for a single soldier his cries for help alerted the Ork Hunters nearby, drawing more into the kill zone.

A hail of autogun bullets from both sides ripped through flesh and caused soldier after soldier to drop. The firefight at the entrance continued until backup arrived, luckily for the remaining Ork Hunters, it was in the form of Grivrim, and a heavy bolter.

If the corrupted Hunters would've managed to shake off the psychic interference with the arrival of the jammer would not be known, as they were killed by the explosive rounds astoundingly fast.

----------

The descent into the underground complex would begin.

Cultists and traitor guard and heretical pdf troops seemed to form the majority of their outer defences. The Ork Hunters would've normally been able to make short work of these, but something always seemed to be nagging in their minds pulling their attention away.

Hunter after Hunter was cut down, in attacks they should've seen coming, against foes that should've been no threat. Until they got deeper, then they had bigger things to worry about.

They heard the whispers clearer now, although it seemed the lights had gone out. They each started to hear their loved ones calling out to them from the darkness.

"Obvious trap." Grivrim pointed out.

Had their loved ones been on this world, anywhere near where they are now, more of them may have fallen for the trick, but not the Ork Hunters. It probably helped that they were far and wide too jaded to accept that their loved ones somehow found them, here far from home, and in many cases their loved ones were dead.

The ones that did fall for the trick though, were never seen again. Devoured by the darkness, and whatever monsters lurked there.

Until they reached the door. The source of the psychic energies was behind that door. The voices were no longer a whisper but a scream.

DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR.

LEAVE THEM ALONE.

KILL WHOEVER TOUCHES THAT DOOR.

As the Ork Hunter at the front of the pack reached his hand out to touch it, his entire body screamed at him to run away, his hand felt like it was burning. Them a shot ripped through him.

The group started fighting amongst itself, each blaming another for killing their fellow soldier. Until Commissar Nihil put a shot through the man that had actually fired the shot.

"Sorry I'm late." His gravely voice growled. "Anyone else even thinks of turning on us, their fate will be the same." It was very clearly not the time for diplomacy or encouraging them through other means.

The door was then kicked open by Grivrim, and the group charged in to face the witch inside.

u/Ulster-Lion (We doing this as a pvp style duel or should I just continue?)