Through the Simulus Chamber, Gabriel grasped the full situation of the Sidai system.
The 33rd Fleet had secured victory in the Shadows of Order campaign, with casualties no greater than those of the Iron Hands.
Smiling faintly, Gabriel disconnected the interface and rose from his seat.
Not far away, upon his own throne, Manus stood. His eyes, like molten silver coins, liquefied as they fixed on Gabriel, and his voice, heavy as lead, rolled across the chamber.
"I did not expect that, without enhancents for auxiliary computation, you could actually keep pace with the Iron Hands' rhythm."
"Your data-processing ability is at least equal to their average. Remarkable."
Gabriel knew Manus had taken an interest in his ability. He had to dispel any further suspicion, lest the secret gifts of the Gene-Father be exposed.
Bending, he picked up the gyrinx at his feet and spoke.
"It's thanks to this creature. It's a gyrinx, able to boost my cognition and amplify my calculations."
Manus's gaze hardened back into cold silver.
"Relying on external aids is fleeting. The chanicum's creed, that flesh is weak, is truth.
You should undergo augtics. With your potential, I believe you could accept extensive modification and attain computation equal to the Iron Hands."
At that, another voice cut in, calm, bold.
"Father, I believe Gabriel does not need augntation to rival our cognitive strength."
Only one aboard the flagship dared speak thus to a Primarch: Storm General Amadeus DuCaine.
Though he embraced dusan culture as Manus preached, DuCaine deed his Gene-Father's vision too radical.
Manus cast him a brief look.
"You will understand in ti."
With the void war concluded, the 11th Chapter of the Shadows of Order struck the northern planets of the system, while Iron Hands clan-companies under Clan Sorrgol pushed southward.
On the flagship of the 52nd Expeditionary Fleet, Manus addressed DuCaine:
"You are fad across the Imperium for your Storm and Hamr. Now is the ti to prove that my appointnt of you as praetor was not in error."
Manus chose to observe Storm and Hamr firsthand, to study the tactic in full and improve upon it.
"As you command, Father."
DuCaine bowed and set to work.
The fleet's ships began orbital bombardnt upon the planet below.
But this ti was different from the raids on Vostroya. Now, the Fra'al had turned the Sidai system into a bastion.
Both fortress-worlds had been fortified with plunder from countless worlds of the sector.
The Fra'al defense grid roared to life, aetheric shields flaring under bombardnt, anti-air vomiting fire into the skies.
To counter the fire, DuCaine used the sa ruthless tactic he had employed on Rust-World: he ordered several void-ships to force landings, their massive hulls absorbing the storm of shells as they plunged through the atmosphere.
They crashed down upon five designated zones, right in full view of the Fra'al.
Imdiately, DuCaine ordered the auxilia to entrench, preparing defenses.
He would not waste lives in brutal street-fights. Instead, he would employ Storm and Hamr. But this ti, with a twist.
From Nareth's intelligence, DuCaine knew the Fra'al were raiders, nomadic, greedy by nature. Bait them, and they would bite.
They were not like Orks, who charged headlong at the sight of battle. The Fra'al were cunning.
So DuCaine gave the order: load every vault of treasure from the five warships into transports.
Then he selected one hundred thousand auxilia, the weakest, the most wounded, and addressed them.
"Auxilia girls, I am DuCaine."
He always called the forr Stormwalkers by "boys" or "girls" depending on the setting. The auxilia, however, he always called "girls."
"I need you for a task of great importance. Today, you shall, as ever, beco the Anvil."
"You will assault the Fra'al fortresses."
So auxilia officers understood instantly: this was a death march.
They did not know the strategic calculus. But they trusted the Storm General.
He had already proven, on the Battle of Rust, that his thods won the greatest victories for the smallest cost.
"By the Emperor's na, for the Gorgon of dusa, for , for the honor we seized on Rust-World, you must hold their attack for two hours!"
"For the Emperor, for the Gorgon, for the Storm!"
Twenty thousand auxilia roared in unison, echoed monts later by the other four landing zones.
From his vantage, Manus inclined his head.
'DuCaine's prestige among the auxilia is imnse. Even in death missions, they see honor.
This tactic is sound. Casualties will fall by at least forty percent.'
The hundred thousand auxilia advanced under cover of armored transports, charging the Fra'al fortresses.
At Fortress One, the Fra'al commander sneered at the audacity of the "weak" humans.
"Artillery! Saturation fire!"
Guns thundered. A Malcador heavy tank was obliterated, its holds spilling not shells but treasure, gold coins glittering, gemstones tumbling across the battlefield.
The Fra'al commander's eyes narrowed. He slamd the wall, cursing.
"Fools! Such disgraceful waste!"
The auxilia pressed on, crying "For the Storm!" as they took what cover they could and surged at the fortress.
Every mont, more fell. None retreated.
After an hour, so even reached the walls.
Aethermancers raised their arms, firestorms cascaded down, immolating the screaming soldiers.
Still, they pressed on until the two-hour mark, when commanders' chronoters chid. Orders were given to withdraw.
On the walls, the Fra'al commander scoffed.
"Pathetic. No threat at all."
Yet his gaze lingered on the trampled treasure. His eyelid twitched.
"Such shaful waste…"
'The humans' fleet is strong, but their soldiers are nothing. The fortresses need not hold.
Their transports carried treasure in an absurd quantity. If they looted such riches, their warships must carry more. If we want to regain void-superiority, we must seize those ships.'
Thus, he gave the command to sally.
And no Fra'al raider would miss a chance at plunder. Only a few remained behind; the rest stord forth toward the "weak" human ships.
At the other four fortresses, the Fra'al commanders, hearing the news, shouted in turn:
"Attack! I will not allow Ferreira to hoard the spoils alone!"
DuCaine's Anvil had struck true. The Fra'al abandoned their walls.
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu
User Comments
0 comments from readers