Enemy fire lashed into the Casus Belli’s shields, from the smallest flicker to sheets of explosive energy that cascaded across the hemisphere of azure power. With each blast a surge of digital information scattered across the noosphere to be analysed and archived.
Exasas monitored this activity with a mechanical detachment, but could not halt a flurry of more organic feelings emanating from the princeps senioris and the machine-spirit of the Imperator. Though the shields held against any physical damage, it seemed as though the Casus Belli waded into the fury of a raging torrent. Within the bowels of the machine, void shield generators overloaded as they took the brunt of the enemy attack, while motive engines struggled against the steepening ground. Exasas registered the strain of the immense war engine as a series of negative modifiers acting as a drag on vis cogitations.
Despite all that was thrown against them, the battle group prevailed. Plasma blasts and searing lasbeams eradicated tank squadrons and reduced super-heavy Titan-hunters to steaming slag piles. A hail of shells and rockets slammed into the walls of Az Khalak, cracking buttressed ferrocrete, tumbling support towers, buckling turrets. Since Steel Wolf’s demise, another Reaver – the Labour of Battle – and a Warlord called the Phlegmatix had been lost to the full brunt of the enemy’s power, but the Titans of the Legio Metalica pressed on without relent. The command that Az Khalak had to fall was not just a military necessity – it was seared into the souls of the god-machines, and through them the princeps and their crews.
By Exasas’ estimates, the enemy dead from this engagement alone numbered more than ten thousand, and four or five times that number would be lost by the time the citadel was breached. It was not an inconsiderable amount of casualties, but while the exchange of five Titans – two of which were recoverable – seemed quite a high price to pay, with a kill-efficiency in the region of 89 per cent, the battle could be deemed a success.
In fact, the magos’ estimates had expected the battle group’s kill-efficiency to be around the 75 per cent mark, far lower than they had achieved. With the terrain, the prepared defences and the commitment of anti-Titan war engines, as well as the orbital strikes that had rained down until the battle group had moved into range of the citadel, the fighting should have been harder. While it was possible that more casualties would be suffered by the Legio Metalica in the final conquest of Az Khalak, it seemed unlikely – the enemy had failed to concentrate their fire effectively against the Titans, and hence had been unable to inflict substantial damage on those that were still mobile.
Exasas [direct trans/Monderas]: <The enemy are presenting a dichotomy. The planning behind the combined commitment of the anti-Titan reinforcements and orbital attack shows a high degree of discipline, patience and communication. Conversely, on commencement of the counter-attack, target prioritisation and persistence of effort have been lacking. I have calculated that had the enemy desired it, they could have posed a considerable threat to the Casus Belli, but they have been distracted and diffuse in their efforts.>
Monderas [direct trans/Exasas]: <Then we are to be thankful for their lack.>
Exasas [direct trans/Monderas/emphasis modulation]: <No! We must not allow complacency to undermine our efforts. This deficiency is uncharacteristic of their battle effectiveness thus far. We have seen from their use of super-heavy vehicles that they have access to Adeptus Mechanicus facilities, and a number of the syntakharxes of Nicomedua have clearly defected to the cause of the rebellion. These hereteks conduct the same logistarius and strategos cogitation rites that we do. They will know that their defence is ineffective.>
Monderas [direct trans/Exasas]: <Since the battle began you have pondered and surmised and speculated, but you have offered no guiding course of action, nor contributed anything meaningful to the conduct of the Casus Belli. Your idleness without commitment to engagement with your skitarii has caused you to overly indulge in prognostication of matters beyond mathematical foresight.> [imperative] <You are experiencing data-paranoia, magos.>
The abruptness with which Monderas severed the link sent a flash of corrosive feedback along Exasas’ noospheric processors. Ve had hoped that vis fellow tech-priest would have been more open to discussion than the moderati, but it was impossible to ignore the conclusion that Exasas had also vexed the logistarius.
It was a sobering thought, and Exasas felt it necessary to give due credence to Monderas’ assertion. Was it possible that ve was over-analysing the data? Could such a thing actually be possible? Data-paranoia was far more prevalent among battle-priests, that was true, but more as a mark of continual combat fatigue on circuitry and cogitation routines. Exasas had been in the privileged position of command within the Imperator for several decades, and hence at a slight remove from persistent battle. Only rarely did ve need to venture from the confines of the command module, even when committing vis troops into direct conflict.
Haili [alert]: <Targeting error! An enemy Baneblade is beneath my depression extent. No firing solution.>
Rasdia [imperative]: <No firing solution for the hellstorm.>
Exasas’ interest spiked, and in response alerts threaded from vis cerebellum-implants to the squad commanders of his skitarii, increasing their readiness. If the Baneblade was able to drive within the scope of the void shields, it could cause considerable damage directly against the Casus Belli, perhaps even breaking the armour around the reactor or damaging one of the primary weapons. With a thought-broadcast ve tasked several heavy weapons squads to prepare to dismount.
Monderas [alert]: <Point defence weapons will be ineffective against a super-heavy engine, princeps senioris.>
The Casus Belli slowed. Before it was fully halted, the Imperator started to turn backwards while Rasdia tried to bring the hellstorm cannon to bear on the approaching Baneblade. Several squads of renegades in camouflaged armour advanced around the behemoth, perhaps thinking to storm one of the leg bastions. They flowed through the ruins like insects from a broken nest, but their potential bite was enough to cause the magos dominus to dedicate a sliver of cogitation to their defeat.
Exasas increased the intensity of vis alert status to ‘imminent action’. Vis sensory connectors vibrated with feedback from the limbic systems of vis skitarii warriors, allowing ver to sense their agitation though ve did not biologically share it.
Gevren: <Clearing support infantry.>
Bolters erupted into life from across the Imperator’s bastion-legs and lower body, the equivalent of several squads of troops opening fire. The volleys scythed hundreds of mass reactive rounds into the armoured traitors. Detonations cracked open protective plates and ripped the flesh within, gouging ragged lines through the packed squads.
Monderas [alert]: <Enemy Baneblade is passing void shield boundary.>
The tremor of its passage and proximity warnings shuddered through Exasas’ motor systems, as though the invasion were into vis own body. Corresponding ripples of negatives clattered through the ongoing algorithms of vis cogitating engine.
Exasas [imperative]: <Second and Fourth Platoons standing ready to depart.>
Iealona [negative]: <Do not disembark your troops, dominus. Remain on board the bastions.>
Casus Belli’s weight shifted dramatically as the princeps senioris lifted the left leg. Several unattached servitors toppled against their stations, and Exasas’ grip-claws scraped over the decking until they found purchase. The Imperator pivoted at the hip joint and the building-sized leg swung forward. With equally sudden movement, the foot descended, slamming directly on top of the Baneblade.
The turret crumpled under the initial impact and a shell within the breach of its battlecannon exploded, engulfing the foot of the Imperator with dark flame. Dozens more detonations followed from its ammunition store as Iealona pushed the Titan forward, transferring more and more weight onto the super-heavy tank. Severed tracks flailed out, their snaking ends lashing through the infantry who had survived the blasts. Exasas registered the resistance of the Baneblade’s carcass as it ground into the hard earth, though vis experience was nothing like that of the princeps senioris sharing the Casus Belli’s spirit through the MIU.
Scattered remnants of enemy squads fled the carnage, many of them cut down by fresh fusillades from the bolters. A near-physical ache worried at Exasas from vis desire to deploy vis troops, but the threat had been neutralised. In their stations aboard the bastions, the skitarii squads stood down, returning to their carriage positions with a mixture of relief and dissatisfaction.
Aggressor calculations stopped mid-process, cycling down into dormancy like a numerical sigh of disappointment.
Ghelsa disembarked into a buzz of electrical discharge and a chorus of shouting, the air alive with static that danced off her skin. The ruddy light was cut through with occasional bright flashes, and in these moments of violent illumination she saw dozens of tributai thronging the deck. Four huge void shield generators dominated the space, the groan of warp cores adding to the background noise. Flares of power leapt from venting coils to earth through spinning conductor globes.
The tech-priest stepped out of the cage and gestured to the right, signalling for them to join a work team gathered around one of the generators. Sparks flew from a broken cable in a hissing blue cascade. Ghelsa moved to the front of the cage but Harkas intercepted her.
‘Wait,’ he said, barely audible above the din. ‘We can use the elevator to reach the akropoliz.’
‘That’s an overloaded void shield generator,’ she replied, gesturing with the multi-tool. She pointed into the space between decks to more energy-wreathed chambers below. A swarm of figures laboured to keep the enormous machines operating. ‘And there are eight more down there. Only three are left. When they are all down, the trouble really begins.’
‘I had not realised the fighting had started,’ said Harkas. He moved out onto the walkway, making space for Ghelsa.
‘That’s the point of void shields, isn’t it? What did you think the war siren was for?’
Not waiting for an answer, she jogged along the metal walkway to the struggling generator crew, Harkas keeping close behind. A tech-priest had an extended mechanical tentacle attached to an input socket, its attention intent upon its work. A half-dozen tributai were trying to lift a heavy cable into place to divert more power from the plasma reactor while three more struggled with a chain pulley to reposition a buckled piece of magnetic shielding.
A sudden flash erupted from the spinning discs at the heart of the machine, throwing out coruscating red waves. A piercing inhuman shriek erupted from the tech-priest. The neokora stumbled back, articulated mechadendrites thrashing while arcs of errant power danced across metal augmentations.
Whining loudly, the tech-priest collapsed, oily smoke leaking from beneath its hood. With panicked cries, two of the tributai let go of the cable and jumped away.
Ghelsa leapt forward, stooping under the cable before it could crush the remaining labourers, taking the weight across her shoulders. Teeth gritted, she glared at Harkas.
‘Grab hold,’ she snarled. Her stare fell upon the timid duluz. ‘You as well!’
Together they manhandled the cable end into position beside the secondary socket, stepping over the tech-priest’s twitching corpse.
‘Hold it there,’ she said, stepping back to ready the multi-tool. Its jaw whirred open and she set it upon the fitting, her legs braced. At her nod, the work team thrust the cable into position and she tightened the link with three quick turns.
Almost immediately the generator’s wild growling became a more sedate buzz and the arcs of power flickered away. Ghelsa gave the connector one more turn for good measure and then touched the tip of her multi-tool to her brow badge.
‘Our thanks to the all-powerful Machine-God for providing these engines to guard us from harm.’ Without thought, she reached into a pouch at her belt, her fingers dipping into the small jar within. Her hand glistening with blessed oil, she raised it to the cable and drew the liquid across it. ‘Praise the Omnissiah.’
‘Praise the Omnissiah,’ echoed the tributai.
‘You.’ Ghelsa thrust a finger at one of the others. ‘Fetch a tech-priest. The connection needs proper consecration or it will fail again.’
The duluz scurried away, calling for one of the priesthood. Ghelsa saw Harkas heading back towards the open door of the conveyor and caught up with long strides.
‘You’ll not make it on your own, you said it yourself,’ she said.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ Harkas replied, shaking his head.
Fresh shouts and a flurry of strobing blue light announced another near-failure across the deck.
‘We’re taking a pounding,’ Ghelsa said. ‘You can’t feel it, but to lose that many generators so quickly… This is serious. I’ve not seen anything like it since Acheron Hive on Armageddon.’
‘Have you been told nothing of your mission?’
‘Enough. The battle group was deployed to destroy a traitor stronghold.’ Ghelsa shrugged. ‘No enemy war engines are expected – I’m surprised the fighting has lasted this long already, with the whole battle group deployed.’
The inquisitor rubbed at an earlobe, dried blood flaking from his fingers. ‘There was supposed to be minimal opposition. It seems the strategos were wrong.’
She looked again at the failing generators.
‘Your mission won’t count for much if the Casus Belli is destroyed.’
‘Better that than it being handed to the traitors.’
‘We’ll all die.’
Harkas shrugged, as emotionless as a half-machine servitor.
‘No, not while I can do something about it,’ Ghelsa declared.
‘Listen. To. Me.’ It seemed that Harkas barely raised his voice, but there was something in his tone that cut through the cacophony of the generators and their attendants. He fixed his disturbing stare on Ghelsa, keeping her in place more surely than if she had been welded to the decking. Though his eyes were only level with her chin, in that moment it felt as though he towered above her. ‘If I fail they will all die anyway. Or worse.’
Foreboding knotted her gut at those last two words. She knew she was not an imaginative person, but enough whispered tales abounded to paint a vivid picture of the practices of the Dark Mechanicus. She shivered at the thought of what sort of monstrosity the Casus Belli might become if taken from the light of the Machine-God.
With a last look at the tributai, she followed Harkas back into the conveyor cage. He slammed the door shut behind them and pushed the lever to the ascend position.
‘We can ride all the way to the first deck,’ he said.
Ghelsa grabbed the control lever and pulled it to the neutral position, causing the elevator to shudder to a halt among a squealing of brakes.
‘If it was that simple I would have done it already,’ she snapped, still angry that he had dismissed her objections so coldly. ‘I can’t get us past the pronaoz into the central czella. Unless you have a noospheric link, you can’t either. We will need to get off at the triaz and make our way to one of the crawlworks for the hellstorm autoloader. Once inside those, we can get to the external access hatches. There are inspection ladders from which we’ll make the jump over to the main articulation block and then up into the akropoliz.’
‘You suggest that we clamber along the ammunition feed of a cannon, so that we can climb outside onto the shoulder of the Titan, from which point we ascend to the carapace fortifications. That sounds very risky.’
‘As risky as being caught by hereteks who will shoot us on sight?’
Ghelsa thrust the ascender lever again and the motor jolted into action.
The converging fire from the traitors intensified the closer the battle group advanced towards the citadel, despite the growing casualties inflicted by the Omnissiah’s war engines. The Casus Belli took the lead, forming the tip of the ram that continued to hammer at Az Khalak, punishing salvos from its weapons like the edge of a blade slicing armour and flesh. Exasas’ calculations whirled to keep up with the flow of movement away from the path of the Imperator as companies of tanks were reduced to smouldering puddles, and platoons of traitorous skitarii were pulverised by shells from the main battery and hellstorm cannon.
The enemy did not confront the Casus Belli directly but tried to slip away, parting like water before the bow of a ship to attack the smaller Titans advancing in the Imperator’s wake. Chastened by vis earlier failures and the remonstrations of the other command officers, Exasas did not voice the doubts that continued to nag at vis calculations. Questions regarding why the enemy did not bring their full force to bear against the Emperor-class Titan went unspoken, as did speculation regarding potential reasoning behind the traitors’ earlier inexplicable manoeuvres. Exasas still could not adequately explain what had transpired since battle had been joined. The need to analyse was a tight fist around the remaining pulmonary vessels of vis circulatory system.
In frustration, Exasas improvised an antithetical protocol system, divesting verself of an entire swathe of processing ability and dedicating it to full-scale antarithm functions. Their interlocked cogitational wavelengths flowed back and forth like a sea on a shore, the thoughts of the anti-Exasas pushing back against the calculations and assumptions of the dominant magos-program, advancing and then retreating as one or the other led the race to extrapolate meaning out of the continual data input.
Even so, Exasas could make no headway and decided that full interactive protocol was required to totally encapsulate the dichotomy. Ve calved off the slave-personality almost fully, granting it 95 per cent autonomous reaction.
Exasas-primary [interrogatory]: <Casus Belli as a single unit comprises the greatest threat to the security of the citadel.>
Exasas-secondary: <Correct. The firepower sequentials of the Casus Belli are outmatched by the rest of the battle group taken as a whole, yet we present a single target with singular defensive capabilities.>
Exasas-primary [interrogation]: <We have twelve void shields protecting our weapons. The rest of the battle group has many more protecting theirs?>
Exasas-secondary: <Correct. The ability of the battle group can be degraded more swiftly by attacks on our companion-engines, but as an effort-to-consequence ratio, elimination of the Casus Belli would have been more effective.>
Exasas-primary [inquiry/tense]
Exasas-secondary: <The prime opportunity to destroy the Casus Belli occurred during the first moments of orbital attack. Had the enemy delayed longer so that the citadel guns, anti-Titan super-heavy vehicles and orbital lance strikes had all occurred concurrently, there is a seventy point six per cent chance that the Casus Belli would have suffered critical if not lethal damage.>
Exasas-primary [inquiry]: <Probability that such potential was not known to the enemy?>
Exasas-secondary: <Functionally zero. All calculations are within parameters set by standard protocols. Indeed, the traitors are better placed to know the firepower quotients at their disposal, and even if they did not have access to battle records detailing the Casus Belli’s particular defensive capabilities, they could estimate accurately from the earliest tank and infantry attacks.>
Exasas-primary [directive]: <Speculate.>
Exasas-secondary [negative]: <Insufficient parameters for speculation.>
Exasas-primary [inquiry]: <Cause for oversight of potential destruction of the Casus Belli.>
Exasas-secondary [theory]: <Deliberate strategy.>
Exasas-primary [imperative/directive]: <Focus calculation on determining potential enemy motivation within the parameters discussed.>
Exasas-secondary [affirmative]
They rumbled upwards without conversation. With nothing to distract her, Ghelsa’s thoughts returned to her predicament. Her hands started to tremble, causing the callipers of her exo-phalanges to click rapidly.
‘You weren’t very convincing earlier, when you said you’d call off the hunt for me.’
‘I will ensure your safety once I retrieve my sigil and contact the skitarii dominus.’
Ghelsa nervously tapped her metallic fingertips against the cage wall until a scowl from the inquisitor stopped her.
‘They say that an inquisitor can kill a world,’ she said, far more cheerfully than she had intended.
‘Who are “they”?’
‘Stories. Bunk chat. Is it true?’
‘It is called exterminatus. And yes, it is within the authority of an inquisitor.’
Ghelsa nodded. She felt on edge, bordering on frantic. She put her hand on the control lever, using it as an anchor, a connection to the real world when everything seemed so dream-like.
After a moment, Harkas laid his hand on the back of hers. There was blood under his fingernails and his knuckles were swollen.
‘Have you ever ordered exterminatus?’ she asked.
‘Twice.’
She studied his face for a deeper reaction, but there was nothing there. She could read more emotion in the metallic features of a tech-priest. He was so steady, so solid, that her giddiness subsided just by looking at him. It was reassuring in a way. If someone had the power to destroy a world, she wouldn’t want them to be prone to excessive emotion.
‘They could not be saved,’ Harkas continued. He took his hand away and folded his arms. ‘It was better that their corruption did not spread to other worlds.’
‘That’s why you’d prefer the Casus Belli to be destroyed rather than turned against the Imperium.’
‘I see that you are starting to gain a better perspective.’
Ghelsa realised she had lost count of the number of decks they had passed and looked at the numeral dial. They approached the pentaz. Two more to go.
They clanked past the tesseraz in silence. Harkas reached past her and pulled the handle to the braking position, bringing them to a halt as the indicator dial reached the third numeral.
‘Are you ready?’ he asked, his hand hovering over the manual door activation. Ghelsa nodded even though she didn’t feel ready at all. Staying in the elevator cage wasn’t going to improve her situation.
While the devolved persona started running its own simulations and data-mining, Exasas returned vis main focus to the ongoing battle, shunting across any relevant data as it arose. Counter-battery fire had reduced the thunder of the quake cannons to an erratic booming and proximity to Az Khalak prevented further attack from orbit. Like ants beneath the attention of one of his skitarii, streams of infantry fled through the ruins unmolested as the Titans directed their ire against the main defences. The troops that remained posed little threat to the Imperator, but the opportunity to deploy the skitarii seemed obvious to Exasas. Ve made no such request, calculating a high probability of rebuttal and further unpleasant possibility of censure.
The Casus Belli had reached the slope of the city outskirts – more accurately the main cordon wall that encompassed the outer settlement. Ragged breaches in the thick ferrocrete barrier gave ingress to streaming lines of traitors on foot, but the gates were barred, leaving scores of tanks abandoned on the roadways leading to them. Engine detonations accompanied each of the Titan’s steps as it advanced along the main highway, armoured vehicles like the shells of insects crushed beneath a careless soldier’s tread.
Iealona [imperative]: <Break the gates.>
A spur of urgency from all three moderati betrayed their competitive rivalry as each attempted to bring their weapons to bear before the others. Exasas detected power level warnings throbbing through the noosphere from the reactor, but they were quickly erased by a command protocol from the princeps senioris directing all available energy to weapons fire.
It was Haili’s plasma annihilator that discharged its rage first, targeting the western tower – a blocky hexagonal fortification studded with heavy weapon ports. Three bright stars flashed into the building in rapid succession and a trio of blast waves pulsed out, dispersing the atomised remains of the tower’s structure. The gate sagged, but held for a few more seconds until the combined fire of Gevren’s main battery, defence laser and akropoliz gun towers shredded the reinforced metal with a blinding barrage.
Rasdia’s annoyance flooded the noosphere, the target obliterated before his hellstorm cannon had built up to firing speed. With a whine audible even within the command module, the weapon powered down, its multiple barrels slowing to a stop.
Rasdia: <It’s better to conserve the ammunition for more worthy targets.>
Haili: <Yes, that was surely your considered decision and not at all an excuse for your laggardly interface.>
Iealona [rebuke]: <Show some decorum. These are the lives of the Omnissiah’s servants being taken. Though they have reneged upon their duties to Him their loss is not trivial.>
It was indeed a sobering thought, and one that Exasas pondered as the Casus Belli strode through the smoke of the gate remains. To either side the wall proved little obstacle to the Warlords, whose fists and guns broke apart wide sections to allow them to pass, tumbling the broken pieces upon the bodies of the dead as all the works of traitors would be toppled.
Exasas [direct trans/closed/Monderas/inquiry]: <What lures one into the sphere of ignorance?>
Monderas [direct trans/closed/Exasas]: <Why does one turn away from the exploration of the Omnissiah? It is to believe rather than to calculate. To revere faith alone over enlightened dedication.>
Exasas [direct trans/closed/Monderas/inquiry]: <One might muse upon the distractions of technotheological determinism, but I cannot encapsulate a theorem that would provide benefit outside the scope of the Cult Metalica. Why would one choose voluntary exile into the darkness of the unenlightened?>
Monderas [direct trans/closed/Exasas/theory]: <The transitory but addictive nature of short-term gain. The illusion of control outside the noospheric embrace of the Great Edifice of Mars Supreme. It is adolescent thinking to strive for independence, denying the interdependence of all the components of the Machina Cosma.>
Exasas [direct trans/closed/Monderas/inquiry]: <A self-applied delusion, then?>
Monderas [direct trans/closed/Exasas/theory]: <Or external interference masquerading as revelation. Also do not discount the possibility of unintended contact with corruptive noospheric sources or potential xenos infiltration.>
This caused a worry to shiver through Exasas’ cognitive processors.
Exasas [direct trans/closed/Monderas/inquiry]: <It is not my field of expertise, so I am unaware of any precedent for wholly external corruption. Is it possible to become heretek unwillingly?>
Monderas [direct trans/closed/Exasas]: <It is not a dedicated field of study for me, either. We stray into issues of definition.> [inquiry] <Is volition required for techno-heresy? If one strays under the lead of another, is one a heretek? Can the simply misinformed claim innocence of their transgressions? These answers are beyond a magos dominus and logistarius to conclude.>
Exasas [direct trans/closed/Monderas]: <While the beginnings of techno-heresy may perhaps be obscure, there can be no doubt regarding the loyalties of those that oppose us. The Machine-God is Truth. The Omnissiah is the Incarnation of Truth. To oppose the servants of the Omnissiah, to slay them, is direct contravention of the Truth. No doubt remains that once one raises arms against the Truth, one has transgressed.>
Exasas-secondary [direct trans/closed/Monderas/Exasas-primary/inquiry]: <I have been monitoring this exchange and I wish to clarify a matter. Please extrapolate on the nature of short-term benefit to the detriment of long-term objectives.>
Monderas [direct trans/closed/Exasas-primary/Exasas-secondary/interrogative]: <Identify yourself fully.>
Exasas-primary [direct trans/closed/Monderas/apologies]: <This is a cogitator partition I created to examine possible motivations for the enemy’s inefficient behaviour.>
Monderas [direct trans/closed/Exasas-primary/Exasas-secondary]: <Very well. I shall indulge the inquiry. The attainment of long-term objectives can be less appealing when inaccurately measured against short-term benefits for a course of action. One might disregard negative consequences based on false evaluations.>
Exasas-secondary [direct trans/closed/Exasas-primary/Monderas/inquiry]: <Elaborate on the basis of false evaluations.>
Monderas [direct trans/closed/Exasas-primary/Exasas-secondary]: <Over-estimation of one’s abilities or under-estimation of the obstacles ahead. Reliance on alliances not yet made. Weighting of oaths received disproportionate to the ability of the oath-taker to fulfil them. All are forms of self-delusion that can misguide calculations. In short, belief against reason.>
Exasas felt the secondary persona parse both of vis neurocomponents away from the noosphere, ending the dialogue with Monderas.
Exasas-secondary [theory]: <I have correlated this information with the actions of the traitors and propose a hypothesis. Let us reverse the logic. It is possible that the hereteks wish to sacrifice the short-term gains of destroying the Casus Belli in return for a longer-term objective.>
Exasas-primary: <That would require the sacrifice of Az Khalak.>
Exasas-secondary: <The citadel’s destruction has been a near-absolute certainty from the moment the battle group arrived. Rather than prevent its loss, the enemy are attempting to turn the situation to some future advantage.>
Vis purpose fulfilled, Exasas started to subsume the split persona but asked a last question before wholly absorbing vis data.
Exasas-primary [inquiry]: Why would the enemy wish to degrade the numbers of the battle group but not destroy an Imperator Titan?>
Exasas-secondary: <Unknown.>
The area of the downdecks was just below the antae and temple gates of the tech-priests, through which they could pass to and from the akropoliz. The smell of incense was heavy, drifting down through grates in the ceiling just above their heads. It was almost pitch black, given over almost entirely to the immense gearing and levers of the weapons mounts. Patches of ruddy light gleamed on lubricated metal, showing scattered glimpses of spinning axles and gears. The steady chugging of the autoloader beltfeed made everything tremble. Somewhere nearby, but unseen, a tech-priest chanted low ministrations to a faltering motor.
Further up the Imperator’s torso the motion of its gait was more pronounced. Ghelsa walked along the deck without problem, compensating for the movement. Harkas had a harder time of it, swaying like an infant.
‘You’ll need to leave the robe,’ Ghelsa said. She pointed to a series of handholds cut into the plasteel of a slanted stanchion. Just a few centimetres below the brace a pair of gears creaked round as the moderatus of the hellstorm cannon adjusted aim.
A yellow light sparked into dim life above their heads.
‘Cover your ears and open your mouth!’ Ghelsa obeyed her own instruction as Harkas put his hands to the side of his head without question.
The hellstorm opened fire.
Thunder resonated across the deck, filling the air with sound and flakes of rust. Even with her hands clasped tightly over her ears, Ghelsa felt the enormous pressure of the cannon’s rapid pounding. It made her teeth ache and her gut tighten.
One Omnissiah… Two Omnissiah… Three Omnissiah… she counted, blinking away the dust. Five seconds the burst lasted, as long as a lifetime amid the deafening noise.
The tumult stopped. The yellow warning light disappeared. Harkas mouthed something, but her ears were ringing too loudly to tell what he had said and the light was too dim to read his lips. She pointed at her ear and shrugged.
He shook his head and shucked off his robe. She thought he was naked at first, but his skin caught the light with a glossy sheen. He was tightly muscled, barely any fat on his body at all. As he moved she saw pockets in the flesh – small bulges on his pectorals and abdomen concealing small pieces of gear, and a slender dagger sheathed into his thigh.
‘Synskin,’ he said, his voice raised above the background throb of the autoloader. He gestured for her to approach and took her wrist, laying her hand on his arm. It felt cold and slightly plastek. ‘Hit me.’
‘What?’
He pointed to his stomach. ‘Hit me and see what happens.’
Frowning, she complied, driving her fist into his gut. At the instant of impact the secondary skin hardened. The force of the blow staggered him, but the synthetic skin protected him from any internal damage.
‘The hyperezia were hardly hurting you at all,’ she said.
‘That is not quite true.’ Harkas raised a finger to his swollen cheek and eye. ‘But they did less harm than you thought.’
‘So you probably would have fought them off if I hadn’t come along…’
‘I am glad that you did,’ he said. ‘They were instructed to kill me. Even if I had overcome them, I think I would have been apprehended again, as you warned.’
Ghelsa collapsed the multi-tool and slid it into a sheath on her belt. She reached for a grip-hole on the stanchion and pulled herself up to the first step. She looked back at the inquisitor.
‘That almost sounded like thanks.’
‘Thank you, Ghelsa vin Jaint.’ He clasped his hands to his chest and nodded. ‘So often those of us that struggle to protect the Imperium do so in the darkness, without fame or gratitude.’
With vis repeated attempts to interpret the enemy’s intentions failing, Exasas dedicated the majority of vis attention back to the wider battle. Ve synchronised with the surveyor arrays of the Casus Belli to get a sense of the situation while a sub-processing routine accumulated tertiary dataflow from the noospheric wash of the moderati. Though it was far from the perfect interaction afforded by the MIU links, this approximation provided sufficient clarity for the magos to construct artificial sense of the conflict.
The greater part of the enemy army had been destroyed or routed, leaving the ruined streets between the Titans and the citadel a near-deserted rubble wasteland. With no concern given to the preservation of civilian life or structure, the Titans had enjoyed free rein with their weapons. Whole districts had been flattened, and across nearly half of the fortified city barely a structure more than two storeys high had survived.
In places Exasas detected collapse patterns more suggestive of demolition works than warfare. Correlating these positions to the database of the city’s geography, ve discovered that many of them had been of significance to the Imperial or Adeptus Mechanicus authorities.
It was simple enough to surmise that the traitors had started deconstruction before the arrival of the Omnissiah’s punitive forces. It seemed counterproductive to put resources into destruction rather than construction, particularly in the face of likely retribution for their rebellion.
The majority of Az Khalak had been under the jurisdiction of Adeptus Terra. Administratum tithe houses and Adeptus Arbites had been knocked down, along with several Adeptus Ministorum shrines. Whether the rebels had intended to replace them with edifices of their own misguided cult would have to remain pure speculation. Other efforts to expunge the Imperial presence seemed less conclusive. Larger housing blocs and private estates had been razed, presumably due to the pro-Imperial leanings of their former occupants.
It had been a far more calculating erasure than that being enacted by the Legio Metalica. The Titans pulverised the remnants of homes and storehouses beneath their tread while their weapons unleashed laser and plasma against the buttressed wall of the keep at the city’s heart. The decision to conserve ammunition in favour of energy-based weaponry pleased Exasas on the grounds of general resource management, but a few quick equations proved it was poor for immediate kill-efficiency.
Exasas [inquiry]: <Are we expecting delay to resupply? I do not understand why we are not expending all available effort to the destruction of the enemy.>
Monderas [datalog packet]
Registering the transmission time, Exasas realised ve had been distracted by the exchange with vis secondary persona when the princeps senioris had issued a revised mission objective. Ve unpacked the command.
Iealona [imperative]: <The enemy cannot be allowed any relent. When Az Khalak has fallen we shall push into the area immediately beyond, taking the wrath of the Omnissiah into the zone known as Aza Fai Alessa. To ensure the enemy have no opportunity to stage a hardened defence or regroup, there will be no pause for resupply. The skitarii support column will detach to complete the pacification of Az Khalak and the battle group will proceed in isolation.>
It was unorthodox, both in timing and nature, but the datalog confirmed that the order had been issued via the princeps senioris’ MIU noospheric interface. Backtracking through the archive, Exasas discovered a spike of inter-moderati traffic prior to the announcement, but the details of their interactions were codelocked against examination. This was also unusual but not without precedent. Exasas tried not to interpret vis exclusion as a personal slight, but given that the communications had been sealed by Gevren’s authority it was not a possibility ve could wholly discount.
Further introspection was curtailed by a wave of surveyor alerts announcing the arrival of considerable traitor aerial assets. Deployed from deeper within the mountains, the flotilla comprised several high-altitude bomber aerostats and a large number of ground attack craft. Visual trackers locked on to the rising whale-like bombers while smaller, dart-shaped aircraft powered nearer, dangerously close to the ground to avoid surveyor detection until the last moment. Sonic warnings alerted the regular crew of the Titan while the noosphere trilled to the alert of missile locks.
Gevren’s presence loomed large within the noosphere and the Imperator’s guns barked their retort. The defence laser – an armament capable of striking orbital starships – spat forth a ruby beam that instantaneously obliterated a strategic bomber. The blast left nothing but energy residue scorched across the sensor panels.
Smaller gun turrets spat their fury at the incoming attack wings, filling the sky with shrapnel bursts and flickering lasbeams. The flare of rockets streamed in return, fanning out from the swooping attack craft. A few targeted the Casus Belli, their volleys exploding ineffectually against the massed banks of void shields. The majority were aimed at other engines of the battle group. The flare of overloading void shields surrounded the Woundwalker, a Warhound that had been circling the left flank, and the central Warlord Indomitable Guardian, while long-range lascannon shots from other ground attack aircraft scoured lightning welts across the energy defences of a Reaver, the Victorious Endeavour.
The Imperator’s anti-air batteries snarled in reply, guided by Gevren’s will. Flak detonations stitched black clouds around the incoming squadrons and rapid-firing autocannons laced the air with slashes of tracer rounds. The spiralling trails of damaged craft told of a handful of successes, but as the Imperator continued to forge up through the outskirts of the city the survivors spiralled around the colossi of the Machine-God, their guns ablaze.
Ghelsa continued up with Harkas just behind her. The crude ladder took them above a massive conduit of plasteel hanging from the structure of the shoulder works. It shook constantly as the autoloader belt within carried shells the size of battle tanks up from the magazine store in the Casus Belli’s midsection. Its course turned vertical as it passed into a sheath of articulated metal, inverting a level above them to meet the cannon mounting somewhere in the darkness of the shoulder mount. Glimpses of sunlight shone into the gloom as the building-sized weapon swung around, highlighting a profusion of metres-thick plasteel struts and artificial fibre bundles as broad as trees.
‘We cannot scale that,’ said Harkas, looking up at the sheer surface ahead. Fist-sized rivets held it together but were too far apart to be of any use.
‘We’re not going to,’ Ghelsa said, hooking her multi-tool into the lever-lock of an inspection hatch. The square of metal hinged outwards, leaving a gap large enough for a person to enter. The belt was currently empty of shells while the princeps and moderatus sought a target. The massive clasps were ideal as an improvised elevator, though they clattered past at hazardous speed.
The tributai and inquisitor stood side by side at the opening, judging the moment to leap. Ghelsa crouched, creating tension in the exo-struts implanted into her legs. The fabric of her coverall bulged with hard lines.
Harkas jumped and she followed a heartbeat later, reaching for an empty shell bracket. Harkas landed with a shout and wrapped his arm around a jutting bracket. Ghelsa thudded into the belt more heavily, knocking the air from her lungs. As she slipped down the corded fabric she threw out a hand, seizing hold of a strut.
Carried upwards, darkness swallowed them and the din of their passage drummed within the confines of the belt canopy. Ghelsa hauled herself alongside Harkas, teeth gritted, and then pushed ahead. She clambered onto one of the open bracket arms and grabbed the multi-tool, pressing a release catch so that it telescoped out to its full length. Ghelsa held it out, the hooked blade for cleaning chain links pointed towards the side of the autofeed. She turned, leaned against the corrugated belt and thrust her other hand towards Harkas. She knew from the twin circles of paleness that he could see her far better than she could see him.
‘Grab hold.’
The inquisitor did as asked, gripping her wrist, her calliper-assisted fingers curling around his arm in return.
Ghelsa hauled him alongside her and looked up, straining her eyes for a telltale sliver of sunlight that marked the boundary point between the feed and the cannon housing.
‘You know, if I miss this we’re going to get dragged into the firing breach and crushed to death.’
‘I trust you,’ said Harkas. Three words that sang in Ghelsa’s ears.
So shocked was she by this rare praise that she almost forgot to jump. At the last moment, just as the belt started to invert, she hurled herself outwards. The multi-tool clanged against the compartment wall, its sharpened claw piercing the sheet plasteel. One hand rigid around its haft, the other locked on Harkas, Ghelsa thudded into the side, jarring her shoulder and banging her head against the metal.
She looked up. A gleam of sunlight bounced from the passing shell brackets about a metre above the head of the multi-tool.
‘Use me as a ladder,’ she said, ‘and then help me up.’
With her back against the plasteel, she lifted Harkas as best she could and braced her foot so that her reinforced thigh formed a step. Harkas grabbed hold of the strut of her right shoulder through her coverall and pulled up with a grunt, his foot finding her thigh bar. She wrapped an arm around one of his legs, steadying him as he placed a foot on her other shoulder, reaching with both hands.
He stood there for a second, silhouetted against the brightness, and then vanished. A heartbeat later he reappeared, reaching down to Ghelsa. She flexed her exo-skeleton and hauled herself into his grasp. He pulled, holding her at the edge of the opening while she worked the multi-tool free. She swung a leg into the gap and half-rolled out of the ammunition chute.
Ghelsa lay on the support girder for several seconds with her eyes closed, sucking in lungfuls of crisp air. Opening her eyes revealed the underside of the immense akropoliz, and to the left the armoured bulk of the hellstorm cannon housing. She turned her head slightly and blue sky came into view.
Cold air stung her eyes and the wind caressed her face. She sat up and smiled. It was the first time in two years she had been outside.