On the wings of a storm

Aurelium looked down on a world in chaos. The surface of Varlislia was covered in exotic storms, as the Tyrannid harvesting wrecked the ecosystem. Huge battles raged across the planet, and it did not take someone of Aurelium’s experience to see that things were not going well for the defenders. Two large Tyrannid swarms were now beginning to converge on the main Imperial defence lines – their strength having grown sufficiently to launch full scale assaults. The 3^rd Company had received a brief message from Cassius and the 2^nd Company on achieving orbit after their long delay in reaching Varlislia. Cassius had secured a drop site for them, and had been successful in clearing several swarms from the area. However, after these defeats, both Tyrannid swarms had moved their attention away from Cassius. In response, the Ultramarines had focused on disrupting as much of the Tyrannid feeding structures as possible in an attempt to stem the Tyrannid reinforcements to the front lines. Cassius had seemed to be implying that Aurelium should land and link up with the 2^nd Company in order to launch a combined assault on one of the main swarms.

But the view from orbit had given Aurelium a different view of their priorities. It was clear now that the Ultramarines needed to consider the whole war effort on Varlislia as alone they were no longer going to be able to defeat the growing Tyrannid swarms. As if the invasion was not enough trouble, there had been scattered reports of traitor astartes on Varlislia, and whether from Chaos or Xenos influence, some of the hives were in outright insurrection against Imperial rule. Aurelium met with the Mechanium representatives and they agreed that the first target for their forces must be to suppress any ongoing rebellions – the Imperium could ill afford to be fighting on two fronts, and they would need all of Varlislia’s resources to be mobilized against the Tyrannids now approaching the hives.

In one hive in particular, Caximos, the situation was particularly dire. The loyalist held around a third of the hive, but the traitors had mobilised an unusual amount of the local PDF to their cause, and were closing in for the kill. With the support of the Titans, the 3^rd Company would sweep down from orbit into the traitor flank and proceed directly into the hive to crush the traitor resistance. There was no time for extensive preparations; if the hive fell completely, it would be much harder to dislodge the traitors. In the plains outside the hive, traitor armoured forces were sweeping round to surround the loyalists. This is where they would make their strike, and then would drive straight for the centre of the hive. The traitors were well equipped, but had not been tested against the Emperor’s finest. Aurelium knew they would be found wanting.

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The dust from a hundred tanks kicked up into his eyes. Gorthac tried to use his viewfinder to establish the progress of the armoured column as it edged around the walls of the hive. The plains outside Caximos were dotted with small manufactura and shrubland. This was the perfect terrain for his tanks, and this is why he had volunteered his armour for this flanking attack – much better than the tight streets of the inner hive where ‘loyalist’ ambushes awaited round every corner. A few short months ago, Gorthac had just been a low ranking officer in the PDF of a provincial planet. Now he had an armoured company to command and the promise of wealth and glory in the new order once Varlislia was theirs. He owed it all to the cult. Never a particularly ideological person, Gorthac had just been a bit dissatisfied with life when they had approached him. At first it just seemed like a good way to go to some uphive parties, but when they mentioned there might be a way to get a promotion, Gorthac was sold. They had explained how the corruption of the elites on Varlislia and on neighbouring worlds had led to popular revolutions across the sector, but that the ‘Imperial’ security forces were suppressing the information out of fear that the same would happen here. They had offworld allies which would be coming to aid the revolution – all Gorthac had to do was kill his superior officer at the correct time, and take command of the unit. Just as they had said, everything went to plan, and now Gorthac looked forward to the swift ending of resistance in Caximos. He was concerned by the stories he had heard, and the storms he could see coming from the east – apparently the resistance was much worse there, but it was the tales of xenos that he couldn’t believe. He had never seen any giant insects that could cut a man in two – that didn’t sound like any xenos he had ever heard of. It was probably just ‘loyalist’ propaganda.

The dust was getting in his eyes again, so Gorthac closed the hatch on his command chimera and decided it was probably time for a nap. There was nothing within a hundred miles that could stop an armoured company.

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In an ironic twist, Gorthac was actually right, but just as he was drifting off to sleep, the Imperial reserve fleet was launching landing craft and thunderhawks which had his tanks firmly in their sights. The deserted habs around Caximos were blown aside by the giant Titan transporters that burned through the skies. Within minutes of landing, an armoured column of space marines was headed for the hive, supported by two scout Titans, the larger titans and marines support units following behind. As a larger manufacutrum came into view, the Imperial forces picked up the telltale signs of guard armour slowly edging around the hive. As the Titans stalked across the plains, the guard column seemed to falter and then organise itself into a ragged battleline. Some valkyries and sentinels that had been scouting at the head of the column now swung round to form one flank while the centre was a mass of chimeras, leman russes, artillery and superheavies.

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Gorthac wasn’t napping anymore. His voxnet was breaking under the strain of all of his commanders struggling to organise themselves. He didn’t know where those Titans had come from, but there was no denying that they were there. Still, from the inside of his tank, Gorthac still felt pretty safe. The Shadowswords he had managed to get from their armoury to blow through the gates on the far side of the hive should prove very useful in stopping this latest threat. A huge explosion shattered his calm. The Titans had not opened fire yet, so what was going on? He opened the hatch to see that the bombards accompanying his chimeras had disappeared. The infantry were firing into some nearby woods where Gorthac could see lumbering blue shapes firing murderous streams of shells into his formation. Astartes! Where had they come from! Titans alone he could probably deal with, but Astartes! What were they doing here? As he tried to recover his composure, he saw a giant aircraft swoop towards the stormtroopers and their transports at the head of the column. Blue figures on trails of fire swept out of the giant aircraft and crashed into his troops. More aircraft swept overhead as from the distance, smoke trails from rocket batteries streaked towards his troops.

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Aurelium ordered his formation forwards. The inital assault had done well, destroying the traitor artillery that could have done serious damage to his small number of marines. On the left flank, the assault marines had broken the stormtroopers with supporting fire from one of the Warhounds and some scouts, but had taken serious loses and had withdrawn behind some woods. Also, it looked like their Thunderhawk had been grounded by fire from a guard superheavy. Ahead of his tactical marines, the second warhound darted forward and unleashed all its fire into a shadowsword that was turing to face it. Plasma blasts cut through the armour and a mega-bolter round found its way to the generators behind. The shadowsword disappeared in a flash of light, littering the plain with burning wreckage. But before the Titan could dart back to cover, a full company of Leman Russes advanced on it, firing their cannons and lasers at its feet. The shields flickered away, and a shell caused the warhound to stager and fall, crippled for the remainder of the battle.

The traitors continued their slow advance forwards, eager to reach the whirlwind battery that was cutting through their large, cumbersome formations. But Aurelium’s plan was working. He had stripped away the guard supporting units with characteristic lighting attacks leaving just the two large mechanised formations and the leman russes. These could now no longer compete with the speed of the Imperial attacks which surrounded them. Belatedly, they advanced on the whirlwinds, but the second warhound had returned to reinforce them, and between them they routed the mechanised company at close range, as Aurelium raced his tactical squads, scouts and speeders up to the traitor command unit which was pulling back towards the hive.

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Gorthac couldn’t really believe it. Within an hour, his whole company had become a burning wreck. He had even lost his chimera, and now stood with the remains of the infantry in the open field. To his right, his last shadowsword was destroyed at close range by a horde of space marines. In the distance, his last operable formation of Russes was being taken apart at long range by the larger titans now striding towards the battlefield. He had no idea where all these forces had come from, and started to wonder whether what had been passed off as ‘propaganda’ was indeed just that. Still, there was still all the forces in the hive, and it was time for his brave troops to cover his retreat, and a hive was a good place to hide. As the marines closed on their position he made to get away through the scrubland but didn’t get far before the cold blade of a marine scout found its way into his back.

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Aurelium called for a thunderhawk. He was returning to orbit to reassess the impact of their success at Caximos and to try to contact Cassius again. There was no need for him to remain. The Imperial war engines were smashing their way into the hive, and his marines were closing in on the surviving traitors. Their nerve had largely broken after the arrival of the main Titans, and by the repeated attacks by his troops. Most of the traitors would now become slave labour in the munitions factories before they were eventually exterminated for their heresies. However, while this battle was won, it was just a preliminary victory. His main war against the Tyrannids was yet to begin....    


(provided by Dr Weir)

Becalmed

The following narrative was written by DrWeir, and is based on Epic 40k games he has recently had. It creates a bit of a side story, surrounding events which the Ultramarines faced en route to Varlislia.

A Titan is a terrifying weapon. Even the smallest Titan towers over everything on a battlefield; their weapons are capable of levelling entire cities. But a Titan is more than just a weapon. It is a symbol of the power of the Mechanium and of its alliance with the Imperium. Often the rumour that Titans have been deployed is enough to bring a traitorous planet to heel. On a planet they are beyond compare, but in the vastness of space they are defenceless. Carried in the giant armoured transports of the Mechanium, and delivered to the surface in towering drop ships, they are transformed from gods of war into precious treasures that must be protected at all costs. They are completely dependent on the ships to deliver them safely, and on the unpredictable tides that carry them....

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Princeps Volguolal looked out from a high gantry over his charge, the Warhound Equues Gallius. He had steered his Titan for over 200 years, and since his elevation to Princeps had never known the taste of fear. He did not feel fear now, though a lesser creature might. Instead, he felt sorrow. He had a weapon capable of defeating thousands of the Emperors foes, and he would never get to use it again.

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Aurelium Glovius stood on the bridge of his Battle Barge. Through the elegant windows, he could see the bloated Mechanium transports edging through the void, their precious cargo safely contained within. Despite the inspiring view, he was not meant to be on the bridge of his flagship. He was meant to be on the surface of a world called Varlislia, repelling a Tyrannid invasion. The thought still stirred his martial pride. He could picture standing at the ridge of a blasted plain, leading the full might of the 3^rd Company into the Tyrannid swarm, the mighty engines of the Legio Invicta at his back. That should be where he met his fate, not here, hanging in the vastness of space.

 Aurelium was the Captain of the Ultramarines 3^rd Company, and could rightfully claim to be one of the most important individuals in the Galaxy, but he had never been prideful or excessive in his glory. He felt that often his peers forgot him in their meetings; his Company often posted to long, gruelling campaigns. Aurwlium did not bemoan his lot. He was proud of his accomplishments, but always in his own subdued way.

Varlislia had changed that. As soon as he had received the message from Cassius, asking him to divert from his assigned campaign of laboriously clearly several systems of greenskins, a spark had awoken within him. Varlislia would be the moment for which he would be remembered on banners and in tales for the rest of time. This was to be the victory where he would arrive to save Calgar’s mentor Cassius, and lead the 3^rd Company to defeat another Tyrannid swarm that threatened precious Ultmrar.

But Aurelium knew his dream would never come true. His end would be more fitting with his past exploits, unremarked in some forgotten corner of the Universe. Three days after departing from their previous course, the fleet of Space Marines and Mechanium transports had entered some violent warp storms. This was not usual, so they had pressed on. On the fifth day they unexpectedly dropped out of the warp. All attempts to restart the engines, or communicate proved futile. Like the sailors of old, bereft of wind, an impressive show of Imperial force was left useless, light-years from any known Imperial system. If they could not return to warp speed, they would be forced to point their ships towards the nearest Imperial system, calculate where it would be in the thousands of years it would take to get there, and wait for the passing of time to waste their lives away. Aurelium could picture the confusion on the small Imperial trading world when his mighty armada swept slowly into orbit; all they would find within would be the dust of his men, still waiting inside their armour for battle that was denied to them by a cruel twist of fate.

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For a ghost ship, there was a surprising amount of activity on the transport. Once the implications of their situation had become clear, Volguolal had lent his aid to the overseer of the ship in helping to suppress the small groups of serfs who had gone mad at the thought of wasting away in the void. There was much to be done in order to prepare the vessel, and its contents, for surviving a long journey without proper supervision. Power was being rerouted to the shields and impulse drives, non-essential systems were being shut down, restless and irrelevant crew were being broken down to add to the oil reserves. Volguolal had decided that once the preparations were complete, he and his crew would board the Equues Gallius to await their fate. As he took a final look down on his engine, a serf bounded towards him, knocking crates across the deck. Volguolal reached for his sidearm to discipline this wretch, but the serf threw himself at Volguolal’s feet, ‘Please, my lord, they have found something. You are required on the bridge immediately’.

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Aurelium looked at the sensor readings again. The pilot of the scout was right; there was a large object in their path. He had despatched scouts as soon as they had unexpectedly transited from the warp, and now, a week later, the last one had returned. Once clear of the Imperial fleet, the sensors on the scout had managed to get much more accurate readings on the path ahead. This area of space did not appear to be charted on any of Aurelium’s maps, so he had planned to use the data to construct the most efficient course for the fleet to take back to habited space. What he had not expected was a gravity field, reminiscent of a planet, to be a mere three days journey away.

His hearts were racing, could this offer some hope of salvation from their accursed situation? Aurelium had decided to restrict the circulation of the information. There had been enough trouble with the mortal crews already, to raise their hopes and dash them again would lead to more tiresome interventions. He turned to the steersman, ‘Make course for the centre of this disturbance, full power to the engines and make preparations for a ground assault.’

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The fleet hung motionless above a sand coloured orb. It seemed to be a planet, but thick dust storms obscured the surface, and they could get no accurate sensor readings on the structure of the planet. However, Aurelium had all he needed. There was a spike of energy coming from the surface. He would bet the lives of all his men that it had something to do with their inability to re-enter the warp. Fortunately, as their Captain, he was completely entitled to do just that.

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Cavitum used the filters on the visor of his terminator armour to look through the thick dust that swirled around them. He and the other veterans had teleported on some raised areas a short distance from the centre of the energy spike. The rest of the Ultramarines and two of the Legio Invicta Warhounds were deploying slightly further away and advancing across the dunes. The Princeps had been quite adamant that they would be joining this reconnaissance, despite the risk to their engines of entering unknown terrain. Cavitum looked around again; there was something oddly familiar about where he was standing. They were not standing on a line of hills; this was some sort of structure. His intercom beeped with a message from one of the scout teams now converging on their position,

 ‘In the name of the Emperor, how did they get here’,

‘This is Cavitum, speak clearly brother’,

‘Cavitum, look around you, you are standing on an Imperial hab block!’,

He literally took a step back in surprise, and as he did he disturbed the sand beneath his feet to reveal the unmistakable detail of the wings of an Imperial Eagle.....

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Aurelium could hear the vox-net erupting between the squads of his force as yet more Imperial structures were discovered. He was travelling with several tactical squads in the centre of the formation which was converging on the energy source. As they approached a building, it was clear to Aurelium that his brothers were correct. It was unmistakably a standard Imperial hab structure of the pre-fabricated type often used by Imperial settlers. But, what was also unmistakable were the chunks of masonry missing, and the blast marks on the walls,

‘To all units, ready weapons, we are walking into a trap.’   

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As Volguolal heard the Astartes’ message over the vox, he saw sparks of light flaring in the swirling dust. He edged the Warhound forwards towards the wizened stumps of some trees. The lights flared again, and for a moment the dust cleared away, allowing him to see about a kilometre into the distance. He saw the desert churning, as metal forms raised themselves out of the sand, while with surges of lightning, more strange shapes appeared, hovering over the desert surface. Towering over all of them was a burning light. It looked like an impossibility, but as it flickered in and out of his gaze, Volguolal could clearly make out flowing golden robes flowing behind an alien body. It was entrancing, and Volguolal found himself forgetting the desert around him, and the metal forms approaching the feet of his Titan, when a blaze of lightning leapt from the creature’s outstretch hand and into the astartes scouts that were protecting his flank. The lightning ripped through them and sent them scurrying for cover. The spell broken, Volguolal grimaced in anger at being fooled by the xenos trick. He didn’t know what these things were, although he had heard tales of similar abominations, but would not rest until they were stopped. He compelled the Titan forwards, and trained all its weapons on the closest group of enemy skimmers. In a cloud of plasma and mega-bolter shells, the enemy, machines just ceased to exist, the wreckage disappearing from the surface of the shifting sands.

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Aurelium had also seen the creatures attack, but he knew what they were. From the briefings on the Damos encounter, he now knew that they were facing Necrons. He was now convinced that the energy spike was what was trapping them here, and also what had bought them, and likely the unfortunate settlers too, here into the Necron trap. He was no settler though, and these Necrons would rue the day they trapped his fleet and denied him his dream. All around him, his forces were moving to engage the foe, a whirlwind battery sent volley after volley into the approaching Necrons, while a second Warhound bounded towards some sort of giant pylon. As it rose from the sands, it was obviously rusted with age, but it was slowly swinging a giant arc around to meet the charging Warhound. The Warhound leapt onto a cliff to dodge the focus of the arc, and just as the pylon started to glow with energy, it send a hail of mega-bolter shells into some crystalline structures at the base of the arc. The energy flowed out of the pylon, but yet more Necrons were rising from the sands. Aurelium commanded the terminators to head towards the source of the energy, they had to destroy it quickly before the tomb awoke and overwhelmed them.

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Volguolal turned the Titan and ran to hide it behind one of the larger habs. He had been surrounded by a swarm of xenos mounted on floating platforms, and their unworldly weapons had made a mockery of his armour. Several critical systems were damaged, and without support withdrawl was the only option. He watched in dismay as the horde of skimmer men swept down upon the astartes commander.

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Aurelium steadied his men, the Warhound had retreated to lick its wounds and now the destroyers were headed straight for his tactical squads. Bringing their rhinos up in a defensive formation, Aurelium readied his bolter and took aim. Overhead, a formation of Imperial flyers swept down once more to scatter the approaching horde. This might not be Varlislia, but Aurelium felt content if this was to be his fate. At least he would die facing down the Emperor’s foes.

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Cavitum approached the alien structure. It appeared to be a series of small, interlocking pyramids, but at the front, a mass of crystals created a swirling vortex of energy. This must surely be the entrance to the tomb and the source of the energy that had becalmed the fleet. Cavitum ordered the terminators forward. They had to get to the structure and plant the homing beacon so that a melta torpedo from their Battle Barge could annihilate this whole area. As he put his foot on the first step of the pyramids, metal figures began to emerge from the vortex in a last ditch defence of their tomb. Cavitum and the terminators charged, smashing the skeletal figures aside. More and more emerged, but the power of the terminator’s weapons was too much for them to self-repair, so more and more Necrons disappeared in blinks of light. As they melted away before him, Cavitum activated the homing beacon and placed it on the structure, and in a flash, the terminators were teleported back to orbit.

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The destroyers had swept in with a ferocious assault, destroying a rhino and cutting down a combat squad, but now the concentrated fire of the marines was giving them the upper hand, and their heavy weapons were taking a vicious toll on the destroyers. As Aurelium approached their leader, his sword held high in challenge, the Necron Lord stared at him, paused for an instant, then turned and fled back into the swirling dust, taking the few survivors with him.

‘Beacon planted, torpedo eta two minutes. Time to leave brothers. Cavitum out’,

This was all the encouragement Aurelium needed to leave the battle. The Necrons were in disarray and the beacon had been planted. All they needed to do now was return to orbit and see if their plan had worked. As the Thunderhawks swept in to retrieve them, Aurelium heard a thunderous roar, and saw the whole dust cloud light up. The flickering figure of the xenos god howled in anger, as the Imperials blasted off the surface of his rusting planet.

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A fine layer of sand covered the whole of the bridge, Aurelium and his commanders had rushed straight there upon their return, not caring for the serfs who would spend the rest of their lives cleaning sand out of the ship. The head navigator was there to greet them,

‘The light of the Astronomican is clear once more my Captain, we are preparing to re-enter the Great Ocean’,

‘Do so at once, nobile, we have a planet to save’.