Last Son of Caliban: Heavy Strike

Lieutenant Bors eased himself up over shoreline.  He could see the whole column, with the last gaggle of stragglers even with him.  He triggered his vox bead.  “Master Cain, they are all in the kill zone”

“Warriors of the Lion!”  Came back Cain’s basso profundo.  “Stand to, mark your targets, and deliver the Emperor’s Fury!”

Bors looked over the targets in his sector.  With a few gestures and eye movements he cross loaded targets to the Devastators and Razorbacks under his command.  The Tacticals he left to their Sergeants.  He had the Inceptors under his command, he plotted their advance to an area ripe with soft targets for their massive assault bolters.  He waited a moment, glancing over his shoulder to where Master Cain looked over the traitor line.  The crack of an autocannon ahead jerked his attention back to his battlefield.

“Fire Brothers!  Razorbacks, engage their tanks!  Repulsor, support the Razorbacks!  Jonah, kill the command vehicle.”  He paused, firing a pair of bolt rounds, exploding a pair of troopers racing for cover.  “Shamgar, Uriah, with me!  Jubal, Barreto advance when we get to cover.  Rhinos move up for close support.”

He leaped from cover, legs pumping as he raced ahead of the taller Primaris and cautious veterans.  A keening roar announced the Inceptor’s of Uriah’s squad powering up their potent jump packs as they raced off to engage a company of infantry only now reacting to the explosion of violence behind them.  The heavily armored Primaris Inceptors belched flame from their Assault Bolters and Jet packs both.  Every shot fired by the traitors was aimed at them, and the massive slabs of ceramite protecting them shrugged off the fire.  Behind this distraction Bors and the Primaris Inceptors dove into cover behind some sparse rocks halfway to the road.  Their own bolt rifles and grenade launchers opened up.  Balls of plasma raced past Bors as the Devastators engaged the light transports directly in front of him.

Bors barely noticed.  The Inceptors drifted to their right, closer to Bors, drawing their targets towards the Dark Angels’ lines.  Las Blasts and other infantry weapons pounded their armor but they seemed to be in little danger.  The heavily armored 4th squad in their heavy Mk III Plate moved with deceptive stealth, taking advantage of every scrap of cover until they reached a cluster of rocks damming a creek giving them a protected position to lay heavy bolter and plasma fire into the flank of the lightly armed infantry assailing Uriah’s inceptors.

Bors looked over the line, firing automatically at any targets to his front.  To his left he noticed heavy weapons deploying around the wrecks of several tanks.  Threat beacons bloomed and he triggered his Vox on the command channel “Master Ezekial, target located, displace from my grid direction 330, range 250.  For the Lion.”

As he finished a pair of lascannon blasts cracked through the air, pinning a pair of Inceptors with the savage power of their beams.  “Uriah for the throne get your squad away from there.”  Without an acknowledgement beyond their engines racing around his rear the squad moved to a new position.

Sergeant Barreto’s voice came up on the net “Lieutenant Bors, we will need fire support.”  The dour sergeant had his squad’s Heavy Bolter engaging the heavy weapons but vehicles and more were assembling to attack the now exposed Angels.

“Deliverance is at hand brothers!  INTO THEM!  FOR THE LION AND THE EMPEROR!”  The unrestrained call to close combat came not from Bors, but from Ezekial.  The explosive crack of a teleport assault sounded as the glowing, golden balls of a teleport appeared nearly in the middle of the heavy weapons.  The Deathwing attacked with a speed completely at odds with their massive armor.  Storm bolters chattered their rapid fire, thunder hammers emitted massive cracks as they shattered men and metal with equal ease.  Before the traitors could recover Bors and his troops crested the slight elevation of the road, their Rhinos and Razorbacks covering the marines taking positions among the wrecked vehicles.  Bors pulled open the door of a command Chimera looking at the flaming hellscape within.  Hearing a cough he shouldered the door wide.  Reaching in he grabbed a portly man from under a seat.  Dragging him free Bors caught the glint of the officers heavy rank insignia.

“What kind of little bird do we have here?”  Bors said in a nasty sing-song voice.  “Interrogator-Chaplain Habbakuk will have to see what kind of songs you sing little birdy.”  He finished, bringing the pommel of his power sword around in a calculated blow to knock the struggling officer unconscious.

“Master Librarian, Master Cain, Master Habbakuk.  I believe I have the commander of their trailing battalion.  I don’t think we need many more prisoners.”  He grinned in his helmet.  A moment later Ezekial’s voice came back, cold and harsh.  “Agreed Lieutenant Bors.  The fewer traitors we capture, the fewer we will have to give the Emeror’s justice later.”

The tempo of the battle raced, a crescendo of noise as the angels of death, freed from any restraint, fell on the scattered, bewildered survivors.

About Corelin

An Eve playing Fool who occasionally writes about the shenanigans he and his minions get up to.

Posted on December 5, 2017, in Last Son of Caliban, Warhammer 40k. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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