[center][h1][b][u]The Glinting Dark[/u][/b][/h1][u][h2]Part I[/h2][/u][/center] [hr] >Terra >South of Mt. Elbrus in the Caucasus Range >The Enguri Basin >Verge of the Nanotoxic Euxinus >Several Years Prior to the End of the Unification War_ The Ethnarchy had long been stormed across from end to end and crushed by the Emperor's Thunder Warriors, but remnants of its covetous and perverse power remained. Though the subterranean shield generator networks for the Ethnarchy's mountain holds had been extensively disrupted by the Empire's campaign, isolated strongholds without the Caucasus mountains with their own dedicated networks, remained intact for a time - only to be sieged and seized by the Empire in turn. In the final years of Terran Unification, only a few such bastions remained, owing more to their remoteness and tactical irrelevance than the strength of their defenses. ...All save one. The subterranean arcology-civitas of Patara was a holdout of the Caucasus Ethnarchs, ruled over in isolation by the Ethnarch Anoxis and submerged beneath the Eastern tracts of the Nanotoxic Euxinus - that seething and inhospitable basin of land between Mt. Ararat and Mt. Elbrus where the remnants of failed (or perhaps malevolently successful) Dark-Age nanotechnology ventures had seeped into the oxygen-depleted groundwater and sediment of a long-dried sea. The entirety of the Euxinus was unlivable and hazardous to life, with its sludge of undifferentiated and rampant nanites breaking down anything organic in short order. With avenues of supply and power from the Caucasus range severed by Imperial forces, Patara was left for later conquest in the hopes that time and isolation would vitiate its staunchness, the Ethnarch Anoxis left as a distant prize for the Khangba Marwu. This hope would not come to fruition. Though no true hive, Patara remained a seat of dark-age technology, guarded by regiments of the last of the Ur-Khasis and held secure from bombardment and breaching by the dead, nanotoxic wastes above its still potent shield domes. Its people and slaves continued to flourish and to sally forth with regular and effective raiding bands. With but a single subterranean causeway accessing its depths from the heights of the Enguri basin, the approach was deemed a hazardous folly even by the redoubtable Thunder Warrior legions. With the ultimate aim of Unification looming within reach of the Empire, it was determined that Patara had to be seized and the Ethnarch Anoxis either captured or destroyed, so as to deter any revanchist claims that might serve as a beacon for consolidated resistance. Yet the increasingly unsettled Thunder Warrior legions, already wearisome of the prospects of Unification's End, were discontent with relegation to such dismal odds for so piteous a prize, whilst the main lines of the new Legio Astartes were tasked and held in reserve with yet more portentous conflicts in mind. Patara was a precarious and unusual pit - and so it was determined that the irritant would be matched by an equally precarious and unusual force. The first fielding of the diffident and contentious XXI Astartes Legion, numbering no more than a single battalion of five hundred for the crime of their errant geneline. The siege of the Patara Arcology would either make or break the XXI Legion, providing the chance to prove themselves - either as worthy additions to the burgeoning Imperial forces, or else as unworthy waste to be cast aside and forgotten amidst the ashes of old Terra's myriad failures. [hr] The hunched, ferrocrete causeway rising out from underneath the barren shoals of the Enguri basin was so heavily fortified and menaced with so many arcane instruments about its external perimeter that it would have made the Custodians of the Himalazians blush. Patara's defenders were as well-equipped as they were zealous - Shield dome pylons, the hallmark of the now bygone Ethnarchy - shielded the causeway entrance atop modest curtain walls rising from the dry basin slopes. The single-minded and literally restless Ur-Khasis super soldiers of the last Ethnarch crowded the perimeter, covering every vector of approach with a tight regime of patrols and lookouts. The eugenic programs that had devised them made them literally sleepless and possessed of keen, unwavering sensory focus. They had been bred to unquestioningly and unfailingly adhere to their duties without pause, and though their strength and speed fell short of an Astartes, they made up for the lack with physical resilience and numbers. There were nearly a hundred guarding the entry causeway alone. They had lookout towers, mortars, a modest tactical missile platform, several gravtanks, and the prudence to have mined the surrounding terrain. Nearly four kilometers away, Plouxeides, First Captain of the XXI Legion's only Battalion, snorted as he peered into the jaws of the contemptuous enemy through the grainy resolution of an auspex. "No gunships? I recall our briefing describing this pit as the most fortified approach this side of the Himalazias." Plouxeides had been perhaps the most promising aspirant to be resoundly rejected by the screening for nearly every other active legion on Terra. In his brief adolescence prior to indoctrination he had been noted for his acumen, attentiveness, technical proficiency, as well as his luck - the dividends of a youth spent successfully scavenging and thieving in scrap-markets without losing any pieces. Only partial compatibility with hypnotherapy and indoctrination had made him unattractive for selection however, compounded by his ambiguous genetic stock. The locale he had been taken from had been rife with Mutants, and even though his profile had come back clean that little detail had been enough to send him plummeting down the list of viable candidates for induction. That would have normally slated Plouxeides a spot on a reserve induction list for the IX Legion, if not for the unforeseen activation of the XXI Legion Geneline long after its predecessor Legions had already become well-established. The middling dregs, the almost-not-quite-rejects, and the thinnest standard of questionably acceptable inductees were called upon to fill the nascent Legion's ranks. Plouxeides retained precious little memory of his life prior to indoctrination. Between his merely partial mental compatibility and the unexpected complications arising during implantation of the somewhat nonstandard XXI geneseed, he had even found himself losing words and history alongside everything else. He had still come out relatively ahead however - he had been the only survivor of the first batch on aspirants with the necessary qualities and temperament for Command training. Years later, and he now bore the questionable honor of leading the first and only Battalion of the XXI Legion, with the express understanding that its future would be either wrought or broken on his leadership. Much like the remainder of those in the Legion, Plouxeides had highly androgynous facial features - a matter confused further by his shaved head, though his Thunder-pattern power armor concealed the proportions of the rest of his body. The bare, grey hue of the ceramite armor itself had not even been painted beyond the bare essentials of the XXI numerals emblazoned on the left pauldron, and a command emblem denoted by a prominent I, representing his status as First Captain. "I suppose that was a joke, First." Hemeseke, the Fifth Company Captain. Sat next to Plouxeides, the two were virtually indistinguishable save for the color of their eyes and the differing numerals on their right pauldrons. "Though if one were to take the notion seriously, there could be concealed ramps for gunships to take off from." "No. They are choking that causeway with murder, the last thing they would do is leave convenient access points that circumvent all of it." Plouxeides grimaced. "None of their raiding parties ever had gunships for that matter. What we see is what they have." "In that case, with a massed charge, I think I would charitably estimate them needing a full thirty seconds to wipe out all five-hundred of us." Hemeseke opined neutrally. "Perhaps two full minutes if we stay at range and exchange volleys with our own armor." Hemeseke, even prior to indoctrination, had been known for his seemingly sardonic mannerisms. Having suffered through indoctrination with him, Plouxeides knew that it was instead simply that Hemeseke had a tendency to state the patently obvious, typically to absurd and surreal effect - for that he was always completely serious. That he had somehow landed a command position spoke to the scarcity of viable candidates from amongst the survivors of the XXI geneseed. Plouxeides glanced back at the roughshod staging area the First Battalion had encamped. Little more than the desolate ruins of what had presumably once been a coastal civitas, with enough of a hill to help obscure direct line of sight between them and the causeway in the basin below. The Battalion - [i]his[/i] Battalion - had been shipped in via grav transports during nightfall to help them avoid detection by the enemy's auspex, with scarcely anything in the way of materiel beyond the promise that they would be joined midjourney by a convoy with heavy weapons, artillery, and armor so they could lay siege to Patara. The promised convoy had never materialized. Plouxeides had ordered the Battalion to dig in their (momentarily) concealed position and for their technicians to send a low-gain encrypted vox message to the nearest Imperial relay while the scout elements of second through fourth companies took the lay of the ruins and the surrounding terrain while he and Hemeseke assessed the enemy fortification. Even with only the unwieldy field tools intended for menials from the transports, the Battalion had managed to dig out a perimeter trench and redundant command posts under the shelter of some of the more intact buildings. They still had several hours before dawn broke, but they could not stay here for long. The Ur-Khasis had scouts of their own that were bound to discover their position sooner rather than later. Plouxeides and Hemeseke both slid down from the slopes of the outcrop overlooking the basin and began to head for one of the command posts, cautiously surveying their Astartes as they went. The marines all knelt and moved furtively about the encampment, using hand signals at a distance even in the dark for fear that the enemy would pick up high volumes of vox signaling. Their work thus far had been competent, with no disruptions or delays in their labor since arrival in spite of the absence of proper equipment, which was encouraging enough - though Plouxeides had a feeling the reports on the Battalion's disposition were going to be anything but. They both made their way into the cleared interior of the dilapidated warehouse that was presently serving as their primary command outpost, the interior rife with scattered debris. Celerephon, Captain of the second company, nodded to them as they entered from where he stood a set of portable hololiths projecting a depiction of the surrounding area. Near the back of the warehouse proper, a team of the best technicians from the ranks of second company were fussing over a collection of vox-casters. "First." Celerephon nodded curtly to Plouxeides. "Report?" Plouxeides asked as he started to take in the hololith display. The projection was based on mapping that was several years out of date, and already he could spot several points that had been corrected based on the observations of the scout elements. "Morale is already an issue." Celerephon declared flatly. "Our marines will charge into the jaws of death to stab into its brain, of course. Lieutenants are reporting that the men do not take to the work of menials readily however, and they are contemptuous of all this digging. They say the work itself, and holding out in a trench, puts them ill at ease." "Not something they will need to endure for long if we do not receive our promised artillery." Plouxeides nodded and gestured to the haphazardly assembled vox-caster station near the back of the outpost. He had ordered for the technicians to send a low-gain, encrypted vox message to the nearest imperial relay to inquire about the convoy they had been promised. Relaying the low-powered message by relay would be slower than communicating with the Empire via uplink, but it would be far less likely for the message signal to be detected at range even by any dark age Auspex systems the Ur-Khasis might have at their disposal. "Bad news on that front." Celerephon grimaced. "The convoy was re-routed. It will not be coming. I have already sent a return message expressing our displeasure and indicating that we will need more than volkites and tenacity to punch through here. We are still awaiting a reply." Plouxeides frowned. The messages already took long enough to be transmitted back and forth via this indirect and tenuous method. They could ill afford the delay of Imperial logistics officers having to pour through their lists and conjure up new materiel out of the aether - not to mention it would take for it to get delivered. "Not ideal. For the moment we should proceed on the assumption we will not be receiving any additional supplies and should prepare a tactical plan on that basis." Hemeseke gestured to the hololith. "There is no cover of any sort between the enemy fortification and our position here." He indicated unhelpfully. "The transports are armored but have pronounced target profiles. Approaching with them en-mass, the Battalion will face complete destruction in under two minutes within two kilometers. The enemy decisively outranges us. An amassed charge on foot would see the Battalion defeated in under thirty seconds." "Such little faith." Celerephon commented. "I have perfect faith. In the enemy's force projection capabilities." Hemeseke answered serenely. "I take it there were no surprises during the squad inspections?" Plouxeides inquired. Celerephon shook their head. "None. All tactical squads are carrying only standard armaments for low-intensity engagements due to our shortage prior to deployment. Volkite calivers with one spare cell per marine in each tactical squad. Our heavy weapons teams have a standard allotment of plasma cannons and meltaguns, though cells for both are likewise in low overall supply. We have similar shortage in our allotment of frag and krak grenades, though no squads are reporting a complete lack. Our transports are plentifully supplied with an abundance of stubber rounds for their top-mounted guns." The [i]shortage[/i] Celerephon spoke of had been nothing short of some manner of either logistical blunder or snubbing, with the Battalion simply not having received routine resupply of their armaments after the course of their live field-training and drills. A factor the Empire's strategic planners promised had been taken into consideration when the XXI had received its deployment orders - and now they found themselves under-equipped, outgunned, and outranged. Plouxeides was not entirely soured just yet however. Their goal would be [i]difficult[/i] to attain, but not impossible. "In the absence of artillery, it is true that we must approach the enemy fortifications directly. We maintain the element of surprise for the moment however, and dawn is not for several hours. If we cannot fairly match the enemy's force projection, then we will instead need to force the enemy to maneuver in a fashion to our advantage." He then gestured to the line of ruins along the rim of the hololithic projection of the basin. "The enemy does not know we have no artillery. We can send second company around to the far end of the basin North of our position, where they can reveal their presence and feign the erection of artillery, and send additional transports with them to create the impression they are more numerous than they seem without seeming unopposable to the Ur-Khasis, ideally prompting them to mount a sally to pre-empt bombardment of their shield dome." "That is an Ethnarchy shield dome, and they know that just as well as us." Celerephon answered sourly. "They would not believe conventional bombardment to pose a risk." "No, but bombardment does more than simply deteriorate the enemy position. It also serves as area denial." Plouxeides elaborated. "They would not risk a sally during active bombardment, so they will make an attempt to pre-empt. Especially if they believe second company is simply the advance element of a larger, approaching force - which we can perhaps suggest to them with the correct saturation of vox signaling. Then, during their sally, the remainder of the Battalion can charge their position with the remaining transports, supported by a second charge by the transports sent with the second company. The latter do not even have to be crewed, they just need to give the appearance of a mustered armor charge." "Splitting the focus of the enemy. This can be exacerbated if we further split second company and their allocated resources between two positions. Our marines will have to put on [i]quite[/i] the convincing performance to make them seem appropriately threatening, but it should be within our capabilities." Celerephon mused. "It would have the benefit of creating the impression of a pincer maneuver. The enemy would be unlikely to anticipate a third approach from the opposite direction." "The enemy would not anticipate a third approach because regardless of the number or angle of approaching enemies, they are positioned to strike outwards in every direction already." Hemeseke declared. "This plan does not meaningfully reduce their capability to neutralize the Battalion, only their ability to concentrate their available weaponry on a single element. The second company is being set up to hypothetically split the focus of their alpha strike three ways, but the main force performing the real charge will still suffer disproportionately more casualties." "Our circumstances are not ideal, heavy casualties during this charge are to be expected." Celerephon answered with suppressed irritation. "This surprise third charge will also be across a span of four kilometers." Hemeseke then added, allowing the comment to stand on its own without further elaboration. Stark silence followed. "...Astartes, measure for measure, are worth three times as many Ur-Khasis." Plouxeides stated calmly. "The third charge will have four hundred marines to it, and the Ur-Khasis stationed at the causeway number only a hundred. Fewer, if we can provoke a sally and outposition them." "Because of the deception with the second company, these same Ur-Khasis will believe them to be the advance element of a larger force. They will alert Patara below, and reinforcements will be sent to bolster the causeway." Hemeseke answered. "Which may be done prior to the hypothetical sally itself." Plouxeides visibly hesitated. He was spared the agony of having to twist and contort the plan into an even more convoluted shape when a sergeant from the makeshift vox relay approached them. "Captains." He saluted. "We have received an answer. A second convoy has been rerouted to stand in for the one we were supposed to rendezvous with. Containing two mechanized artillery units and two Battalion's worth of unspecified explosive munitions." "Two Batta- Why, exactly? And what do you mean by [i]unspecified[/i]?" Plouxeides permitted Celerephon to voice the obvious, disbelieving questions. As a matter of principle, he, the First Captain, should always remain composed in front of the rank and file marines. "We gather that we are receiving what already happened to be in-transit nearby, sir." The sergeant indicated. "ETA is four hours." "Daybreak." Hemeseke voiced what they all already knew. "Unspecified munitions in that they are listed as an ancillary supply to the artillery units, but neither end of their original route have answered inquiries as to the exact composition. They might be shells for the artillery. They might be conventional explosives. We will not know until they arrive or unless logistics furnishes us with more details before then." "Thank you sergeant. Return to your station, and inform your team that I want them to ply logistics as fervently as possible to provide us with additional details." The sergeant backed away with another salute. The Captains waited until he had returned to his station before carrying on. "This development would not seem to significantly alter our tactical disposition." Hemeseke declared plainly. "Even assuming those [i]are[/i] artillery shells being sent our way, two mechanized artillery units will not be enough to breach that shield dome. Not by a long shot." Celerephon fumed, frustration evident on their creased brow. "The enemy will also doubtlessly become fully aware of our position shortly after daybreak, rendering our current tactical plan moot if we wait for them." Hemeseke unhelpfully carried on. "If we send second company to new positions at the far end of the basin now, we can mount our charge right as the convoy arrives. It is mechanized artillery, we can have their fire covered by the third charge. That would at least prevent a sally and hopefully deteriorate the enemy minefield..." Plouxeides mused. "Supply and materiel convoys of this nature - diverted from their original route - rarely arrive in accordance with their projected timeframe." Hemeseke interjected. "We have little choice. If they do not arrive by daybreak, we will need to mount our charge regardless. We can leave a small detachment here to operate and guard the artillery itself once it [i]does [/i]arrive. That might actually be preferable if the Ur-Khasis receive reinforcements from below, as you indicated. The vanguard of our third charge can mount a directed assault to disable the shield dome generator, and then retreat as we hold position outside the causeway perimeter while our artillery shells it." "Hold position in empty barren terrain, without cover, with two units of artillery for support." Hemeseke summarized. Their intonation was perfectly mundane, not being even remotely accusatory or sardonic, but all the more scathing for how starkly it highlight the folly of their supposed plan. Silence reigned between the three once more as Plouxeides and Celerephon shared a look. "...Perhaps we should additionally consult with Third and Fourth-" Celerephon began to suggest when a sudden burst of vox chatter caused all three of them to start. [i]'Contact! Ur-Khasis have made sight of the perimeter!'[/i] [hr] The battle, for all that the XXI drastically outnumbered the Ur-Khasis scouts, lasted far longer than it should have. The Ur-Khasis did not attempt to flee or engage in any exotic maneuvers to extend the engagement. They had been bred and conditioned for perfect obedience and adherence to doctrine and orders, to a suicidal degree. From the moment they made contact with the XXI Legion, they approached and made the best effort possible to inflict as many losses as they could in spite of how lopsided the confrontation was. Being a mere scouting contingent, they had only been armed with autocannons. Against the Astartes, wreathed in power armor and partially entrenched with superior weaponry, they had not stood a chance. But they had refused to die. Volkite rays completely failed to ignite the enemy super-soldiers. Where it was customary for impact to instantly deflagrate the target, most of the Ur-Khasis suffered only contact burns. Even as their clothing burst into flames, the fiery accoutrements seemed incapable of igniting their bodies. The Ur-Khasis fought on, unfeeling of pain and seemingly impervious to combustion, only falling when the actual physical incineration of their bodies by repeated saturation fire finally reduced them past the point of being able to move. The final elements of the scouting contingent, leisurely having made its way to cover, had to be blown away by an assault team with meltaguns. Plouxeides, Hemeseke, and Celerephon all stood in the makeshift medical pavilion of the encampment, examining the charred course of one of the dead Ur-Khasis as the medicae delivered their report. "Enemy infantry exhibit pronounced resilience and cellular regeneration even post-mortem." The Chief Apothecary stated, applying a chain-blade to the deceased Ur-Khasis' arm. The mono-molecular blades, rated to cut through ceramite, bit into the carbon-scorched skin, parting it - but chipped and snapped in the process of doing so. As the implement was lifted away, the damaged tissue seemed to slough and flow to refill the gap, leaving a blackened, necrotic scar where the incision had been made. The Ur-Khasis remained still and lifeless, the biomonitor hooked to the corpse utterly silent. "That does [i]not[/i] conform to reports on their capabilities prior to the Ethnarchy's fall." Hemeseke muttered. "Just so, Fifth. I had some technicians come and take a look on the assumption that they might have some manner of bionic implant that could be facilitating this...Which is more or less the case." The Chief Apothecary produced a glass vial filled with blackened, charcoal flakes. "Their tissues and organs are saturated with nanobots. We learned about these during indoctrination and medicae induction. This is dark age technology, known as [i]Autosanguinarum[/i]. This particular culture seems specifically adapted to efficiently disperse and absorb thermal energy in addition to its more salubrious functions." "And to resist deformation? They snapped your chainblade." Hemeseke pointed out. "Not per se. We think. It is less the resilience of the nanobots and more the density of their proliferation. Each body we recovered was utterly saturated with them. We are not entirely certain. Our capability to fully study this in the field is limited." "I take it such saturation is uncommon for this Autosanguinarum?" Celerephon inquired. "Yes. In fact, it is virtually unheard of, even on top of nanobot technology being rare to begin with. None of our officers seem to recall any reports of the Ethnarchy fielding anything of this nature during the Caucasus conflict." "If it is unlikely the Ethnarchy remnants here can manufacture nanobots to the required degree, in the alterative they may be harvesting and repurposing the nanotoxic sediment of the Euxinus." Hemeseke posed. "The original purpose of the sedimentary nanobots is unknown, but they are undifferentiated and blindly disassemble organic matter on contact. Neither remarkably dangerous nor useful in isolation since they aerosolize poorly, but the entire Euxinus is covered by a morass containing them. Producing this many nanobots might be beyond Patara's capabilities. But perhaps not repurposing them." "Enough. Apothecary, thank you for your analysis. Second, Fifth, we should return to the command post and-" Plouxeides halted abruptly as the biomonitor hooked to the apparent corpse of the Ur-Khasis suddenly sounded to life, the beeping indications of a pulse rising and falling with the lines of data depicted on its pict-screen. All four of the assembled Astartes stared down at the supposedly dead body. Its fingers twitched. All three of the Captains unsheathed combat knives and plunged them into the body's skull, chest, and abdomen repeatedly until the biomonitor stopped again. Withdrawing their blades, the edges of all three had been badly warped and chipped from the repeated strikes. "Send heavy weapon teams to destroy the remaining bodies. I do not want them intact long enough to see if these nanobots can actually fully return them to life." Plouxeides ordered. "Have all squads resume use of their vox systems, the enemy already knows we are here regardless. "First, perhaps we should signal Empire Command and let them know of this development. This manner of development has strategic implications, and Patara is now clearly beyond our capabili-" Celerephon tried. "Not another word." Plouxeides spat out icily. "We will discuss this back at the command post. In [i]private[/i], Second." [hr] "We are not calling for additional assistance." Plouxeides' words had the finality of an executioner's pronouncement. "The prior engagement was with scout elements. If all Ur-Khasis have similar nanobot saturation, our volkite weapons will be all but useless against their main elements." Hemeseke remarked. "I know that. What I also know is that if we do not seize Patara, the XXI will be dismantled and dismissed in its entirety. Every step of our deployment here has been fraught with signs of disfavor, and I trust you both remember the sentiments of our instructors during induction." Plouxeides seethed. "And Command has already declined to reroute any additional supplies to us for the foreseeable future." Celerephon mused. "A less scrupulous force of the Emperor's might, in the hypothetical, contemplate desertion." "Just as I am now, in the hypothetical, contemplating stripping you of your rank and privileges and erasing every mention of your name from the legion charter to underscore your execution for that [i]insinuation[/i], Second." Plouxeides' glare alone could have been used as a substitute for a Deathstrike missile. "If I hear so much as a whispered [i]shadow[/i] of such an insinuation from [i]anybody[/i] again, I will assume you to be responsible for it. Contemplate such a thing at your [i]peril[/i]." "As is only proper!" Celerephon declared in a higher pitch than normal, barely managing to not stammer over their own words. "Get out. Send in Third. We are in need of sterner counsel." Plouxeides spat. Celerephon saluted and departed the warehouse as swiftly as they could without breaking out into a run. "The enemy knows our position and presumably our disposition by now. Our primary weapons are ineffective against their infantry, and we must now assume the need for a new plan to approach the causeway now that we have lost the element of surprise." Hemeseke stated clinically. "Yes, [i]thank you[/i], Fifth. [i]I am aware[/i]." Plouxeides did not [i]quite [/i]shout. Moments later, Karnebrand, Third Captain of the XXI Legion, entered the warehouse and joined the two of them. Noteworthy for his commendable talent for melee combat, his frame was taller and leaner than those of the First and Fifth Captains, though there remained precious little else to distinguish them visually. "First. Fifth." He saluted. Plouxeides swiftly summarized the tactical situation. "In the absence of other feasible options, I think it would be best if we continued to fortify this position and awaited the arrival of our artillery." Karnebrand indicated. "Approaching the enemy position with any hope of meaningfully seizing it is not merely unrealistic, but doomed. With artillery, we can perhaps still threaten enemy deployment capability and force them to sally. Outside of their defenses and against ours, even with the issue of their [i]Autosanguinarum[/i], we should have a qualitative edge over them. If we can secure a decisive field victory of any sort, there is always the possibility of repurposing enemy materiel, creating new tactical opportunities. Which brings me to a question I have: How has the Ethnarch Anoxis allotted for the possibility of dissent?" "Dissent? Impossible. Not with the Ur-Khasis. They are too obedient." Plouxeides remarked. "Not explicitly to the Ethnarch. To their handlers, who are subordinate. The Ethnarchy proper had bureaucratic and strategic measures to prevent coups, but Patara is a single civitas. The handlers and commanders of the Ur-Khasis will have disproportionately more power and influence than they would have had in the past. Anoxis would not allow for that unless he were supremely foolish, which means there must exist a contingency to deal with Ur-Khasis who have been suborned." "...and it would have to be something easy to use or distribute." Plouxeides ventured. "He would not have used any manner of broad kill-switch that could be turned against him. It would be something conventional-" He broke off abruptly and raised a hand to his helmet, activating his vox. [i]'Fourth, have all weaponry recovered from the Ur-Khasis sent to our technicians and analyzed for anomalous capabilities.'[/i] [hr] "These are not normal autocannons or ammunition for them." A marine technician later explained to the Captains, a table with an example of the dismantle weapon and some of its ammunition laid out neatly before them. "The main body of each weapon has been altered to conduct a faint electric charge through the barrel. This has no practical effect on the performance of either the weapon or its ammunition, though it probably causes excessive static to build up over time, which could be...hazardous around various forms of munition." They then raised one of the 25mm caliber bullets and shined their helmet light on it. "The alloy of each bullet, in the meantime, has been doped to conduct charge imparted to it and upon impact. As mentioned, this charge is all but negligible and would normally have no practical effect on impact. However, when we tested these rounds from these weapons on some of the enemy remains alongside stubber rounds from the transports for comparison, the autocannon rounds penetrate more reliably and impart far greater cavitation. Even accounting for the difference in performance between stubber and autocannon rounds of this caliber, the difference in effect is substantial." "A universal principle of culture. The weapons they devise are always intended for effective use against themselves first." Plouxeides quipped. "Now if only we had any [i]arc[/i] weapons, we would be well positioned to exploit this particular feature of the nanobots." "So to have any hope of defeating the enemy, we must first defeat them in detail and procure their own weapons to then use against them." Hemeseke stated. "Unless there is any feasibility to altering our own weapons here in the field?" Plouxeides asked. The technician shook their head. "Out of the question. The volkites and plasma cannons are far too intricate, not to mention volatile, for effective field modification." "Both volkite rays and plasma pulses already have significant electrical elements entailed, due to their nature. Why does that not suffice?" Hemeseke inquired. "We suspect it is more of a programmed failsafe of the nanobots than it is a general vulnerability. A specific range of amplitude, and altering that sort of property in energy weapons is beyond the scope of our training, Captain." "We do not need to alter any of our ranged weapons." Karnebrand declared. He drew his chainblade from his belt. "Every marine of the XXI already has either a standard combat knife, or a chainblade in the case of our close combat squads. Those would seem much easier to impart with the necessary electric charge." "That should be just about feasible, sir. Although there is the problem of the power source. The only abundant power cells we have on hand are for our volkites and plasma cannons, and those are in low supply. To arm ourselves, we would have to...disarm ourselves." Plouxeides shook his head. "Even a fool knows never to bring a knife to a gun fight unless they have no other choice, Third. An interesting thought, but we should explore other options first." The declaration soured Karnebrand's expression notably. "Captains." A sergeant entered the command post with a swift salute. "It is now daybreak, and we have had a small miracle straight from the Emperor himself. The convoy has arrived on-time." [hr] The so-called 'convoy' was nothing more than three vehicles. Two Basilisks and a Chimera, the latter of which was presently having a series of munitions crates unloaded from its rear hatch by a marine quad. The Human Lieutenant between both of the Basilisks approached the three Captains as they advanced towards the trio of vehicles. "Lieutenant Karbosi at your services, Astartes." He saluted them. Plouxeides squinted at him - the man was wearing an imperial greatcoat with attendant regalia and an officer's cap, surely enough. "You have the privilege of beholding the overdue mechanized units from the Mt. Elbrus manufactorum's last production cycle. I was briefed by your vox team on the way over, my sympathies for your - and I suppose [i]our[/i] circumstances now. I'll tell you right now, we've only got the shells that are standard for initial deployment. Forty between both Basilisks here. High explosive ordinance with fragmentation casing and timed fuses, suitable for both static bombardment and anti-air fire against light aircraft." The Lieutenant then glanced out towards the perimeter. "...Likely not rated to do frakking shit against that shield dome." "Yes, thank you lieutenant. Though if your Basilisks are already carrying their ordinance, than what are...?" Karnebrand asked, gesturing to the crates being unloaded from the Chimera even as one of the marines hauled one over for their inspection. He set the crate down and pulled back the cover, revealing the content. "...Grenades." The Lieutenant offered in a desultory tone, gesturing towards the collection. All three Captains frowned as they peered at the munitions. "Blind Grenades, also known as Chaff Grenades, enough to equip two full field Battalions." "[i]Chaff[/i] grenades?" Karnebrand repeated, clearly unimpressed. "Yessir. Rated to completely frak up vox and auspex, and thicker than shit. I get the impression these were meant to be distributed across the entire Eastern theater, rather than sent to just any one army. Lucky you I guess, eh?" "You are familiar with their use?" "Only in the colloquial sense, sir. These things are apparently nearly as much trouble to the person using them as to the enemy. It's good for confined spaces and close quarters. You can technically use them in the open, but the chaff fragments have large surface volume. Get blown away by wind really quickly." "Admittedly those would perhaps be rather useful if we could manage to get inside Patara proper, being a subterranean arcology. Unfortunately we've got four kilometers of open terrain to get across and not even Astartes can throw that far." Hemeseke commented. Plouxeides had remained silent as the exchange had transpired, looking between the Basilisks and the munitions crates being unloaded from the Chimera. "Thank you for your [i]timely[/i] arrival, Lieutenant." He finally remarked curtly. "Third, Fifth, we are returning to post. You there, sergeant - move [i]all[/i] of these munitions with the Basilisks behind the warehouse together and assemble our technicians. They will receive new directives shortly." [hr] "I am intrigued, First." Karnebrand allowed once all three of the Captains had returned to their field strategium. "I take it you have some manner of plan?" "Trying to bombard the shield dome with just two Basilisks and their limited ordinance is a futile endeavor. The chaff grenades might be hypothetically useful close up, but without dedicated launchers for them there is no way we could reliably walk them as cover for a charge." Plouxeides began to explain. "The enemy position also has mortars on their curtain walls, so even if we could walk covering fire, they could freely bombard our approach. The chaff will only be useful if we can deploy it directly on top of the enemy position." Plouxeides then pulled up a hololithic schematic for standard Earthshaker shells. "As the lieutenant mentioned, standard shells for Earthshaker canons have timed fuses and fragmentation casing so they can serve a dual-role as anti-air ordinance. Their high explosive payload is useless to us, but if they could be replaced..." "You want to shell the enemy fortifications with improvised chaff artillery." Hemeseke stated. Plouxeides nodded. "Yes. We will see whether or not our technicians are up to the task soon. For the moment, let us entertain a plan of approach under the assumption the enemy position has been saturated with chaff." "The chaff is rated to scramble short range vox and auspex. Enemy communications will be disrupted, and even if they send out spotters, they will not be able to signal back inside the curtain walls either by vox or hand signals." Hemeseke mulled. "We are ignoring the obvious here. Lest we forget, the causeway is still fully shielded." Karnebrand shook his head, making an offhand slashing gesture. "Even with timed fuses to dispense the chaff early, it will all disintegrate on contact with the shield, or else settle over it until the wind blows it away. A thin curtain of chaff around the enemy perimeter will not be useful for a full charge across that distance. We would need complete saturation of the interior position." "Yes, so instead of aiming over the top, our designated target is instead the curtain walls themselves." Plouxeides enhanced the view of the enemy fortifications. "Where the dome terminates through its perimeter pylons. There is a small gap between the curtain wall and the shield dome. A shell with a shaped charge detonating there will fill the entire dome with chaff, and with the shield stopping wind currents from getting through, it will not go anywhere quickly. The enemy will be drowning in it." "Earthshaker cannons are not known for their accuracy." Hemeseke provided. "Even if we had them zero in on the curtain walls with regular shells first, there is no guarantee we can land a chaff shell in that small gap. Nor even one amongst a dozen shells. We will also need multiple shells on-target to fully saturate the interior fortification with chaff, and even if we substitute a full Battalion's worth of grenades for the shell payloads, we will be limited to forty shots. If by some impressive measure of chance we land the first shot, but cannot land the second in a timely fashion, the enemy may also devise a countermeasure before we can capitalize." "Perhaps. However, let us assume, if only for the sake of the hypothetical, that we manage to land multiple shells on the curtain walls and saturate the enemy fortifications with chaff. What is the enemy response?" "Sallying with their armor and infantry." Hemeseke stated. Then, after a momentary pause, he added, "...dropping the shield dome to disperse the chaff." "Both reasonable actions. However, I do not think either will happen. These are the Ur-Khasis, remember. They will obey their orders to the letter, and damn the circumstances. The enemy will not be able to vox each other if all goes according to plan. There is a possibility the Ur-Khasis will simply hold position even with zero visibility." "That visibility will apply to our own troops as well, once we make contact with the fortifications." Hemeseke remarked. "Then our vox and auspex will also be hindered, and only our meltaguns remain fully effective against the Ur-Khasis. Meltaguns which will have to be blind-fired at close range." "Third, can your close combat squads take the enemy position under those conditions?" Plouxeides inquired. Karnebrand mulled over the proposition for several moments before shaking his head. "Not while drowning in that sort of murk, no. Not without using suitlights for IFF, which would defeat the purpose. The squads would need a way to tell friend from foe and to maintain unit cohesion." "Well. Let us consult with our technicians then. They have had ample time to assess the task at hand. Let us see how well they can handle it." Plouxeides declared. Minutes later, one of the marine technicians approached the field strategium with a salute and delivered their findings. "The proposed adjustments to the Basilisk shells are not problematic, though they are labor intensive with only the tools available. Individual grenades can be disassembled and their payloads distributed inside the fragmentation casing for each shell, but it will have to be done by hand. We would need several hours to make the adjustments. We have also performed limited tests with some of the grenades - that is some of the most infuriating ordinance I have ever personally seen fielded. The chaff disperses a little too quickly for sustained field coverage and is so debilitatingly disruptive at close quarters it is just as much of a danger to the user as the enemy. At a guess, it must have been designed for trench warfare. Even floodlights do not help at full saturation. It just makes the murk brighter without being able to see through it, ruins infrared and thermal auspex, and vox in or out of the affected areas is virtually impossible." "Good to hear, technician." Plouxeides stated in a clipped tone. "In addition to the proposed field adjustments then, I am tasking the technician corps to devise a technical solution to effectuate IFF at close quarters amongst our own marines under the assumption they will be fighting in it." "...I see, sir. Any other formidable labors in the name of the Emperor you would like us to perform while we are at it?" "Yes. Identify a way to run electric charge through our combat knives and chainblades without needing to use power cells from our weapons." Karnebrand added. "If it can be done without resorting to forbidden prayer, we will do it. I would like to caution that dividing our efforts between all of these tasks may result in our efforts taking considerably longer than previously estimated." "We are no longer pressed for time on this matter, technician. Work with expediency, but do not rush." Plouxeides nodded before dismissing the technician. "We no longer have to worry about time since the enemy already knows where we are and what our disposition is. They almost certainly have long-ranged auspex trained in our direction now, and they will have noticed the arrival of the Basilisks. It is inevitable they will field multiple assaults on our position." Hemeseke indicated. "Likely with armor and heavy weapons, not just scouts like before." "It is worse than that. I suspect they may use some of those missile platforms we spotted inside their curtain walls. We are going to need to use the Basilisks to screen against those." Plouxeides reoriented the hololithic display to depict the XXI Battalion's perimeter. "They may think we are an advance force, and so will not fully commit for fear of having the bulk of their own forces caught in the open by reinforcements. They will send a specialized force, aproportioned, armed, and with orders to make a directed strike with the intent to inflict as much damage as possible with the least amount of force expenditure. Likely a suicide attack, given the nature of the Ur-Khasis. How would you task an assault for our position?" "Advance field mortars with light armor elements to screen them, while sending infantry to flank." Karnebrand widened the tactical display and designated markers for the described enemy force. "No more than one or two-hundred men altogether, I would want the mortars to do the bulk of my killing for me. Our position has an elevation advantage, but if I can spot coordinates for tactical missile strikes from further afield, I would use that to negate the advantage of enemy armor, especially if I know they only have light personnel carriers. Then I would launch a full send on the most likely enemy command position, synchronized to the infantry flanking maneuver in order to disrupt their capability to respond fully. I would arm the infantry with assault launchers to maximize collateral damage and negate cover from trenches and dugouts." "It is futile to make such advanced speculation without knowing what forces the enemy has available to them. Third's assessment is perhaps a reasonable worst case scenario." Hemeseke stated. "The enemy's tactics cannot be meaningfully or precisely predetermined, so we should force the option select. We have Basilisks. We should use them. They will not send out any force into active bombardment." "We only have forty shells and you already stated earlier that we cannot guarantee accurate strikes on the curtain walls. We might well need all available shells to land those." Karnebrand objected. "We do not need to achieve anything in particular with our bombardment. We only need to convince the enemy that we are capable and willing to do so, and only for long enough for our technicians to finish their work. If we fire two shells every half-hour, we can given the impression we are walking shots to zero in each span of the approach vector. We can use the opportunity to try and draw exact firing configurations to hit the curtain wall. The enemy will likely try to use their tactical missiles to counter, so we should have one Basilisk dedicated to screening and the other to bombardment. Assuming the enemy does not have an overabundance of missiles, we should not need more than twenty five shells total. Perhaps thirty to be conservative." "Assuming the screening efforts are effective. Basilisks are intended to be fielded in large numbers, we have two. They might only have time for one or two shots before a missile can cross the expanse." Plouxeides remarked. "So use some of the chaff shells as they become available. The shells have timed fuses. We can have them detonate ahead of each missile with the aim of disrupting their targeting, rather than needing to outright destroy them..." The planning session carried on for nearly twenty minutes before Plouxeides dismissed the other Captains, and they set about issuing their orders and preparations. [hr] The long hours spent by the Legion defending the perimeter had gone by uneventfully. One of the Basilisks had delivered periodic fire to the fortified causeway once every fifteen minutes. The Ur-Khasis had not sallied forth. They had launched a single missile three hours into the leisurely bombardment, and the second Basilisk had shot it down, fragmentation from a near-hit sending the missile off-course to careen explosively into the basin. Neither side had moved, both preferring to stand in uneasy vigilance of each other. Just after noon, as Sol rose to to the heart of the murky, polluted sky, the teams of technicians reported breakthroughs with their tasks. "The chaff from the blind grenades, at high volumes of saturation, is virtually impossible to see through at long distances. We have devised a plausible workaround that will allow for IFF designation at close to medium range." He set a spare Thunder Armor helmet on a makeshift workbench, and beside it, a sealed canister emblazoned with an ancient radiation hazard sign. "We are fortunate that there was a fusion dome ruin nearby that did not properly dispose of its byproducts. Our scouts have obtained several of these - isotopic nuclear material. When reduced to power and mixed with paint, the result is unremarkable to the naked eye, with a faint heat profile visible via thermal and infrared." "Are not both forms of auspex defeated by the chaff?" Karnebrand asked. "Yes, but we will not be using either. Instead, we will dope the surveyor panes of our helmets with a different isotope that is sensitive to the radiation of the isotopes in the paint, inducing luminescence. The outer pane can then be polarized in one-direction, so only the wearer will see it. In practice, the chaff still severely scatters and defracts the radiation emanating from the paint, so the source is fussy and vague. To get around that..." The technician gestured to one of their peers standing nearby, the trim of their armor showing evidence of fresh paint having been applied - an unremarkable earthy bronze in coloration. "...With the trim of the armor fully painted, this results in a more definite outline visible even amidst the chaff, and only to our own marines. Or at least, only those individuals with the correctly treated surveyors." The technician tapped on the helmet pane once more. "This process is laborious here in the field however, to speak nothing of the limited materials. We can perhaps alter enough helmets for four close combat squads, no more." "On that very subject, I am told you have devised a means to charge our close quarters wargear?" "Not for the chainblades, no. All of our models are fueled with prometheum and it would take too long to long to make them work the way we have in mind. The combat knives, on the other hand, are viable. By removing an armor panel on the wielder's dominant hand, we can graft the knife handle into the hand's fiber bundles, and it can draw charge directly from the armor's power system - moderated to necessary levels with some minor adjustments. This is not complicated, but once more, labor intensive." "So it will effectively approximate a rudimentary lightning claw?" Karnebrand beamed at the very suggestion of the notion. "Absolutely not. A lightning claw has a power field that can disintegrate adamantium. These will be conducting just enough electric charge to startle an anxious goat." Karnebrand frowned. "They had better [i]work[/i], technician." "They work on the remains we have. I can promise very little regarding the living enemy combatants." Hours passed. The sun began its slow descent across the western sky. The Basilisks continued their sporadic fire, ever so slowly walking shots up to the causeway's perimeter of low curtain walls. As the sun began to approach the Western horizon, the XXI technicians reported back to command. "All preparations completed, First Captain." A technician announced to Plouxeides in the field strategium. "We were able to modify forty shells to expel chaff on impact. Close combat squads from second and third companies have all been equipped with augmented combat knives and isotope surveyors. The remaining chaff grenades have been distributed according to your orders, with priority to the close combat and heavy weapon squads." "Good." Plouxeides smirked faintly, feeling an anticipatory rush creeping up on him. Soon, they would crack Patara's shielded causeway open, where nobody else had either dared or cared to. "Return to your squad and prepare to fall in with the rest of your company, our assault will begin soon." He then signaled Lieutenant Karbosi via vox. "Lieutenant, our preparations are complete. Prepare both of your Basilisks to fire for the enemy curtain walls. I hope the day of regimented fire has furnished you with the necessary calibration for the shots we need from your guns." [i]'We can only hope, Captain. Basilisks aren't meant for precision bombardment, but if we can't hit two shots on those walls out of forty, I will accept summary execution for failing the Emperor. Just you watch, we'll get you those hits.'[/i] The entirety of the XXI Battalion boarded their grav transports, all prepared to depart and turn into the basin wastes for their presumptive charge against the causeway. The Basilisk crews worked with feverish intensity to change out shells while Lieutenant Karbosi triple-checked grid coordinates, hunched over a hololith depicting the target site along with the gunners for both vehicles. Minutes later, he asked for assent to fire. "Drown them in the darkness of our contempt, Lieutenant." Plouxeides uttered. The first Basilisk fired - fifteen seconds later, the second followed, their two guns falling into a regular, staggered drumbeat of thunderous blasts that shamed their previous, somnolent rate of fire. The first shell made impact well short of the causeway's curtain walls, its fragmentation shell bursting on impact and scattered dense chaff across nearly forty meters in front of the enemy fortifications. The distant figures of the Ur-Khasis did not move from their positions and posts, standing ready to obey the exact orders they had last received. The second shell went too high, slamming into the shield dome directly and disintegrating on impact, its fuse triggering too late to salvage much of the its payload. The third shell struck the curtain wall on its exterior base, throwing plenty of chaff up and over its battlements but failing to disperse any of it much further than that. The fourth shell landed short. The fifth... One by one, the staggered volley of Earthshaker shells impacted the terrain about the causeway's Eastern curtain walls. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty - none had made their mark yet. Then - the unlikely happened. The twenty-fourth shell fired by the Basilisks fell perfectly into the gap between the shield dome and the curtain wall. It impacted the battlements, and then [i]skipped[/i] at an angle - shooting forwards nearly parallel to the ground and slamming into the base of one of the shield dome's curtain pylons before detonating. The force behind the explosion was largely perfunctory, only serving to spread the concentrated material payload throughout the interior of the fortified perimeter. The pylon was largely undamage - but the kinetic force from the impact caused the pylon to [i]tilt[/i] and crane away from the Eastern battlement by nearly half a meter. Almost imperceptibly, the volume of the shield dome warped, its hem across that segment of the curtain walls raised and pulled back faintly. The twenty-eighth shot fell neatly into the exposed area of space above the curtain wall, where before the shield dome would have intercepted it. The shell slammed directly into the Eastern half of the inner perimeter, dispersing its contents on impact. The entire shield dome now looked perfectly like some manner of profaned ornamental arco-globe, the wavering, glass-like mirage of the shield dome containing the grimy, silvery-textured film of scintillating flakes that whorled about the interior, settling in place, suspended in the air and blanketing the ground and structures inside indelibly. Plouxeides wasted no time. "Lieutenant, keep firing. I want that perimeter kept dark. Astartes of the XXI! Now is the time to bring ruination to the enemies of the Emperor! For his honor, and the glory of Terra and Sol United, [b][i]CHARGE!"[/i][/b] The grab transports, all at once, pulled away from the encampment and descended into the Enguri basin to charge across the seething muck of the Euxinus in a long line more than a kilometer long. The drivers pushed the machines to their limits, speeding forward with complete, unstoppably reckless speed, each of them redlining to accelerate to a speed of nearly sixty kilometers an hour. If the chaff saturating the Ur-Khasis' position was working as intended, they would be completely blind to the approach of the XXI Battalion, and their rigidly brittle obedience would deter them from firing blindly out from the murk they found themselves shrouded in. If the measure was not working, the Ur-Khasis would open fire with their perimeter defenses and the entire line of grav transports would be reduced to smouldering wrecks sinking into the dross of the Euxinus before they got even halfway towards their objective. Plouxeides could feel the tension building in his muscles - the phantom sensation of bile rising in his throat. Reflexively he breathed in and out, both of his hearts starting to hammer faster in his chest as he worked himself into a battle fervor. Either he would die in an instant before he knew what had hit him, or he would lead the XXI to a carefully manufactured and brutal victory against the hated enemy that would go down in history. The line of transports speared across the churning wastes of the Euxinus, racing over nearly a kilometer downhill in just a little over a minute. No enemy fire broke out from amongst the causeway's curtain walls. At the time minute mark, the line of craft was halfway there, and its edges began to curve inward so as to surround the enemy front. Still there was no incoming fire. [i]'The chaff has to be working. They should have no idea that we are about to slam into them. They are probably still stumbling about trying to figure out what is going on.'[/i] Plouxeides thought to himself as he gripped at his carrier harness hard enough to leave impressions in the metal. Three minutes had passed. A third chaff shell from Lieutenant Karbosi's Basilisks had punched past the shield dome and caused the dense, heavy particulate fog inside to surge so thick that it began to pour over the edge of each curtain wall in every direction, surrounding the entire outer perimeter with oppressively thick clouds of blinding material. The rain of shells stopped then, the Lieutenant calling the artillery to cease fire now that the XXI were about to make contact with the objective. At four minutes, the grav vehicles all almost perversely began to slow so as not to crash headlong into the curtain walls, the transports drifting to a slow halt. Marines began to pile out from the transports in droves, and that was when the fighting began. The interior of the enemy perimeter was completely saturated, alongside the curtain walls - but the Ur-Khasis' ears still worked. They began to fire at the enemy they could hear if not see with lascannons, multi-las, and heavy mounted autocannons, blind-firing out across the slopes. The XXI's grav transports returned fire with their top-mounted stubbers, in spite of having no real capability to harm the Ur-Khasis or damage their weapon emplacements. Marines fell into ordered firing lines, enemy fire streaming clear over their heads, and began unleashing volkite fire onto the curtain walls as their assault and close combat squads charged for the gates. All five Captains of the XXI were counted amongst the spearhead assault towards the gate, accompanied by assault squads with meltaguns. As close as they were to the base of the curtain walls now, the seeping haze of the chaff they had deployed now towered in front of them, like an incoming, silvery tidal wave. The spearhead surged forward into the fog, and an eerie gloom descended upon them all just as the sun began to fall below the Western horizon, casting the whole of the causeway into twilight, and the depths of the silvery tides within it into oppressive darkness. Now charging through the thick particulate murk, Plouxeides took in the disquieting morass he found himself in. The enemy position was well illuminated with floodlights, their sources faintly discernable as the suggestion of shape in the far distance, but otherwise the only purpose the brilliant illumination served was to turn transform the gloom into a blinding mist of sharp, scintillating iridescent flakes of drifting metal, each sliver lit up like a nova in the reaches of space, all packed more tightly than the stars in the galactic core. If not for the Astartes' occulobe enhanced eyesight and their polarized surveyors, they would have assuredly been blinded. Not even having made contact with the gate yet, already Plouxeides could not so much as see the tip of his combat knife in front of him. The cascade of vox-messages, callouts, and signals had faded into a jumbled static fuzz in his ears. The tactical display had automatically disabled the shrill series of automatic alarms and alerts to prevent an overload. With the thick muck nearly engulfing his boots, it was almost like walking across the bottom of some sharp and bright alien sea. He breathed in and out, and each inhalation brought with it countless sharpened, jagged shards of metal that forced him to violently spit with the full force of his betcher glands to be rid of. Looking to either side, Plouxeides immediately realized that there was too much ambient illumination for him to make out the luminescent reaction of his surveyor - forcing him to momentarily stop in his tracks and adjust the configuration for the pane, compensating for the blinding illumination and dimming his field of view enough until he could finally see the outlines of his brothers. The isotope-laden paint lining the trim of their armor created an illusory pattern of reactions across his surveyor, creating a disorienting two-dimensional impression of lines roughly indicating in what direction another of his Astartes was located. The measures of the XXI's technicians had been crude, but he could at least make an educated guess as to where all of his marines were nearby to avoid friendly fire. Now just for the small matter of locating the enemy... The spearhead reached the gates just as the billowing sound of a grab transport exploding roared over their heads, the shockwave from the detonation causing the chaff to be set aflurry like sediment-thick fluid around Plouxeides. Striding forward with one hand out, he stopped when it pushed against the surface of the gate. "Astartes, meltas on this position! Give me an entrance!" Plouxeides roared out to anybody who could hear him nearby. He saw the blurry outlines of his men shift as they aimed at the gate - and he also felt the force of impact from several autocannon rounds fired down at him deflecting off of his armor. Uncaring of the inaccurate defensive fire, the assault squads fired on the gate with their meltaguns. The roaring fusion-fire caused the entire superstructure to groan as the outlines of the gate shuddered and distorted as residual heat poured through its frame. A stark halo-like outline appeared in the swirling murk before Plouxeides, a celestial ring hung in the aether. "Charge! Take down the central pylon!" Plouxeides roared. The spearhead pushed through the opening, and the battle began in earnest. While the XXI technicians had been hard at work with their technical modifications and the rank and file tactical squads had been patroling or fortifying the perimeter of the makeshift encampment they had now left far behind, the Company Captains had briefed their assault and close combat squads on the dimensions and layout of the causeway's fortifications from what could be seen via auspex and their enhanced vision. Each marine in the spearhead assault knew roughly what direction their objective lay in. All that remained was to advance while remaining mindful of their brothers, and killing anything that got in their way. The attack proved both more and less challenging than anticipated. As the din of combat began to surround Plouxeides, less and less enemy fire came his way, the Ur-Khasis simply listening from the enemy no longer effective in such close proximity and with so much rampant weapons fire. The First Captain saw a few illuminated outlines of his marines fall as some unclear threat killed or maimed them, but far more were standing still than he had anticipated even in his most pessimistic estimations. Every time the spearhePlouxeidesad crashed into a line of the Ur-Khasis, the enemy soldiers were massacred in short order, the curving and sharpened outlines of his marines grappling with them and making swift, stabbing gestures or unleashing point-blank fusion blasts with one of their metaguns. When Plouxeides felt a spatter of gore drench his jawline, he knew they were on the verge of victory. Abruptly, a monstrous figure loomed out from the thick swirls of the laden haze surrounding them, reaching out with bulging muscle-bound limbs to wrestle with Plouxeides. The Ur-Khasis was some manner of field officer. Not quite so tall as an Astartes, wearing an oversized field coat not entirely dissimilar from that used by the officer corps of the Imperial army. What struck Plouxeides about the enemy's appearance was their face and hands. They were heavily augmented with bionics, their entire low jaw having been replaced with a metal grinder. Their eyes were jet black marbles sunken in their skull, and vein-like wires rested splayed across their brow and cheeks as they snarled and came to grips with the First Captain. The knuckles and joints of their hands had been removed and replaced with what seemed to be concave metal bearings, with more wiring running along each digit. As Plouxeides raised his combat knife almost in what seemed to be slow motion, the Ur-Khasis howled, and their right arm pulsed with a ponderous, overpressuring resonance. A pulsing power wreath surged along the length of the extremity and discharged in a fearsome bolt directly into Plouxeides's left arm, cleanly burning through his ceramite armor like it was tissue paper and causing the limb underneath to explode in a steaming haze of superheated viscera and blood. Sucking in deeply, Plouxeides inhaled a sharpened gust of metal fragments that rushed down his throat to be met in turn by a rising gorge of blood surging upwards. The pain was like a brand that had been pressed to his consciousness, searing away any and all coherent thoughts - save for the blind, contemptuous battle-sadism impressed upon Plouxeides during his indoctrination. There may as well have been no pain at all, except as a heady chaser for the honed sharpness of the killing focus that had eclipsed the Captain's conscious thoughts. There was another particular sensation as Plouxeides began to repeatedly plunge his combat dagger into the Ur-Khasis' officer's face that he could not quite filter or place in his new peculiar sensory experience. It was only as the officer began to fall limp, and when Plouxeides grabbed ahold with their right - and only - hand, stabbing into the officer's neck with their combat knife in the process, that he realized he was howling with laughing. He raised an armored boot and plunged it into the officer's gut, sending them sprawling away as another arcing spray of blood splashed across the First Captain's face. Some semblance of cognition returning, they bit back the swell of blood building in their throat and swallowed, drinking down a measure of the Ur-Khasis blood in the process. Almost immediately, Plouxeides felt some manner of churning, nucleonic and primordial reaction transpiring in their gut. An electric trill coursed through his body. For a split moment, he felt almost as if he could [i]smell[/i] the blood of the hated enemy all around him - that he could sense its exact traces and course on the ground, across the armor of his marines, and pumping through the hearts of the damned. A heightened sensory clarity rushed across his awareness, and in the next moment he raised his plasma pistol, overcharged it, and shot a thundering bolt straight through the head of a second Ur-Khasis soldier that he had not [i]seen[/i], but had nonetheless somehow [i]sensed[/i], as certain as ceramite. The moment of clarity passed. Plouxeides blinked, the sharpened hyper-awareness passing from his mind. He staggered and then spat as the extent of his injury caught up with him. Just based on the searing hear digging a jagged blade into his side, he was certain that his entire left arm up to the shoulder was gone. He felt oddly lopsided beyond what its simply loss would suggest, so his pauldron had probably fallen off for that matter, and his black carapace had likely been ruptured. One of his hearts might have collapsed. Even his Larraman cells were not going to be able to fix damage that extensive. He was running on fumes and was liable to either segue into a hibernator coma or fall over dead at any moment. "First Captain, the medicae are on the way." He heard somebody say nearby. "The central pylon has been deactivated! The Second and Third Captains are starting a search for residual combatants. There's been a runner from the perimeter, they report that all Ur-Khasis along the curtain walls have been eliminated. We are in control of the causeway." "Seal and fortify the passageway down into Patara the moment we can see our own feet beneath us again." Plouxeides heard himself hissing in an unfamiliar intonation of strain. "Have all the Ur-Kasis remains destroyed by the assault teams. What our are casualties?" "...Unclear at the moment sir. We may have to wait for this chaff to disperse before we can make a reliable count, but I saw only a few odd trims on the way here. The plan worked, sir. We [i]crushed[/i] the enemy here!" "Good. Good." Plouxeides seethed as he knelt down on the ground to steady himself. He reached down to the ground with his remaining hand, and when it came back, it was slathered in gory rudiments from some unseen body on the ground right in front oh him. He brought the viscera to his lips and licked, and for a brief moment, it was almost as if he could [i]taste[/i] where every one of the enemy's corpses were lain within the fortifications. The First Captain smiled, blood welling between his teeth. "We are going to do it again."