V3 Chapter 12: Prepare to Witness the Echo of Humanity's Greatest Age
In Tarentus's low orbit, Admiral Villent's fleet, the Ultramarines strike cruiser, and the Ark Mechanicus were still holding their orbital positions.
The bridge was quiet.
Villent looked at the hololithic projection of Tarentus, his expression heavy.
Above the capital of the desert agri-world, an immense psychic vortex was turning slowly. Six columns of light rising from the surface supported it from below, turning the entire capital zone into sensor noise across every instrument the fleet had.
The communications officer made the fourth attempt to raise the surface.
Only static answered.
Mixed into that static were whispers, weeping, and sharp laughter. Several officers on the bridge changed expression at the sound.
Villent did not look away.
"Keep calling the ground forces."
"Yes, Admiral."
The communications officer switched channels and tried once more to reach Duvette, the Ultramarines Fourth Company, and the Salamanders Fourth Company.
The result was the same.
Villent looked at his adjutant.
"Can the heavy transport formation push through the storm?"
The adjutant's answer came without hesitation.
"Completely impossible."
He pulled up a modelling dataset.
"Inside the storm there is extreme-intensity psychic turbulence and spatial distortion. A heavy transport entering it would come apart within seconds. Even drop pods have a very high probability of being torn apart."
Villent gave a nod.
He had expected this answer, but he had needed someone to say it aloud.
Staff officer Evan's expression beside him was equally tense.
Duvette had gone down only a short time ago, and a psychic storm of this magnitude had then covered the entire capital. It was difficult to explain how all of this was not aimed directly at Duvette.
Evan immediately connected to the tactical channels of combat formations in other areas.
"This is expedition staff. All ground forces able to respond, move immediately toward the Tarentus capital. Repeat: move toward the capital and support Marshal-Commissar Duvette."
By this point, they were past the stage where urging was necessary.
Every soldier on the ground could see the Warp tide.
Units of the northern grouping began redirecting under their own commanders' orders. The armoured regiment pushed its engines to maximum, the convoy driving toward the capital along the desert roads.
The Krieg forces halted their clearance operations and reformed.
Tanith and Catachan communications were coming in broken fragments, but units from both directions had already begun moving toward the capital.
The psychic storm was the product of an entire planet's emotional energy concentrated into a single point.
Even from well outside the capital, soldiers could feel a weight pressing against their minds.
On the bridge, Villent finally turned to the communications officer.
"Raise the Ark Mechanicus."
"Perhaps only the Archmagos can find a way through this."
The channel connected quickly.
Cawl's half-mechanical face appeared in the hololithic projection. Streams of data scrolled behind him, factory imagery from inside the Ark Mechanicus flickering past in the background.
Villent outlined the situation.
"Archmagos Cawl, ground communications have been severed. The heavy transport formation cannot push through the storm, and conventional drop operations will encounter severe interference."
"Duvette and multiple Astartes elements are inside the capital."
"I need your assistance."
Cawl looked at him without particular urgency.
"My visual servo-systems are functioning correctly, Admiral Villent."
"I can see the surface situation."
"I am already working on it."
Villent's brow came together.
"You have a way through the storm?"
"The only viable insertion method is to drive drop pods through the outer storm layer at velocities far beyond any established safety threshold," Cawl said, his mechaoptic lenses rotating slightly. "The consequences are also clear. Deceleration loading, psychic storm exposure, structural impact: flesh cannot survive it."
Villent was quiet for a moment. He knew all of this. "Do you have a solution?"
Cawl's tone did not change. "I already have one."
Villent tried to ask another question. The channel was cut.
Villent looked at the space where the hololithic image had been, an expression on his face that could not quite decide between confusion and something approaching relief.
Deep inside the Ark Mechanicus, the massive internal factory's gate layers opened one by one.
Mechanicus priests stood on elevated platforms and chanted the sacred binary cantations. Semi-automated servo-arms moved along the orbital tracks, installing high-power Volkite weapons onto Men of Iron chassis units that had been standing dormant in their bays.
The Men of Iron waited in silence on the conveyor lines.
Their metal bodies had been reinforced. The energy cores in their chest cavities hummed at a low, steady pitch. Diagnostic light swept across their skulls in sequence as the master cogitator array connected to each one in turn.
Cawl stood at the primary control platform and completed the final calibration of the cogitator array.
Tens of thousands of Men of Iron had been connected to the Ark Mechanicus's master cogitator array.
In this moment, they followed Cawl's commands.
The Volkite weapons were still in early production: fewer than ten thousand of the Men of Iron had been equipped with them. The remainder carried plasma weapons, melta weapons, and other energy weapons.
They were considerably more dangerous than when they had first awakened.
And they were the only things capable of surviving the kind of drop that was being planned.
Cawl issued a binary command string.
The conveyor lines began moving.
Row after row of Men of Iron were transported to the Ark Mechanicus's drop-pod bays. The restraints inside the pods engaged, locking the silent war machines into the casings.
They did not pray.
They only waited for the order to kill.
Duvette seized a daemonette by the throat as it shrieked at him.
The thing tried to open his arm with its claws and drive its sharp laughter into his mind. But as it came close to Duvette, its movements clearly slowed.
The Abyss of Ithaka's weight pressed down on its speed.
Duvette drove it into the ground with force, then brought his boot down and caved in its skull.
Viscous fluid spattered across his gauntlet, then gradually dissolved into ash.
He shook his hand and looked out at the daemon tide still laughing in the distance.
Against these Slaanesh daemons whose agility gave them total dominance over mortals, the Abyss of Ithaka aura was the most effective tool available. Anything that came within range of Duvette had its speed advantage forcibly stripped away.
And they had, at least, linked up with the Salamanders.
In the central plaza, civilians were dying slowly in the midst of their own desperate wailing.
Some had already been drained by the towers, their bodies curled on the ground. Others were still alive but weeping uncontrollably and clawing at their own faces, as though they could see something they could not bear.
The Salamanders were still trying to save those who retained some clarity.
But the number who could be saved was shrinking.
Harath Shen stood at the plaza's edge and watched in silence.
His warriors had not raised their voices. They simply used their flamers to burn the Warp daemons pouring out of the rifts. Every time a flamer ignited, entire groups of daemonettes writhed in the firestorm.
The Salamanders' fury had reached its highest point.
But they had not left the civilians.
Over a hundred Astartes and several thousand elite Astra Militarum troops had established a temporary defensive line around the plaza.
The Ultramarines held the main thoroughfares. The Salamanders held the outer perimeter of the refugee area. The Black Shield Squad and Anderson's assault regiment operated as mobile reserves, continuously sealing the breaches the daemons were tearing open.
Duvette's forces had temporarily stabilised the position.
Tigurius stood at the centre of the line, his psychic barrier covering several critical areas.
Sylandri and Yvraine stood close to Duvette's position. They were no longer hiding. The nearby Ultramarines and Salamanders had seen them.
No one trusted them.
No one had time to deal with it.
Then, without warning, a Salamanders tactical squad pushing forward at the front of the line went silent.
A brief burst of interference came through the communications channel.
Then complete silence.
Harath Shen turned immediately.
"Third Tactical Squad, respond."
No response.
"Third Tactical Squad, report your position."
Only faint static on the channel.
At almost the same moment, both Yvraine's and Sylandri's expressions changed.
It was instinctive fear with no time to suppress it.
Duvette noticed.
He followed their gaze toward the far end of the plaza.
From the shadows at the plaza's far edge came a mocking, sharp laugh.
It was not a loud sound, but it cut through the gunfire, the screaming, and the roar of the flamers.
A tall figure walked slowly out.
It had not yet fully crossed into reality—it was still only a projection.
And yet even that projection had been enough to silence an entire Salamanders tactical squad in an instant.
The figure had a pale, faintly purple body. Curved horns and an elaborate crest moved against the reactions of everyone present. Two long, slender piercing talons extended from its back like a second pair of arms, or two living blades.
A spear was in its hand.
The speartip was pointed directly at Duvette and those around him.
A living whip moved slowly at its side.
Chains of beads, gold ornaments, and a fine cloak hung across a physique of impossible perfection, one that held the characteristics of both genders simultaneously. Every movement produced a clear, chiming sound, and a weight of presence that made it impossible to look away.
Yvraine tightened her grip on her weapon.
Sylandri's voice was very quiet.
"Shalaxi Helbane. The Hunting Spear of the Prince of Pleasure."
"It has come."
The Astartes around them felt the pressure as well.
This was not what ordinary daemons could project. Even as a projection only, it stood as though positioned at the end of every strong thing's fate, waiting for them to walk toward it.
Duvette narrowed his eyes and looked at Slaanesh's most perfect hunter.
The danger sense he carried kept firing.
This was the most dangerous moment he had faced.