Imperium Ascendant

Chapter Eighteen: The Battle of Ceres

Location: Somewhere dank and dark within Ceres

Date: 812.M30 (One Hour since the planet-quakes stopped.)

Recon Squad Stutely of the Ninth Cohort crept through the twisting crevice-caverns of Ceres's slave pits. Numbering five experienced scouts the squad was commanded by Scout-Lieutenant Lleid. They had been tasked with scouting a cavern system their cohort had discovered. Slaves were to be liberated regardless of species, paths were to be mapped and Xeno slavers were to be exterminated.

The Tunnels were dank and cold. Rivets of icy water trickled through cracks in the bedrock. Some old, some newly born of the Second Legions planet-quake inducing arrival. Jagged wet stone formed the walls and would tear through human skin like paper. It was a miserable foul place. Even through his helms filters, the Scout-Lieutenant could smell the fetid mix of rot, filth and old machines he associated with places like this.

Even after exploring kilometers of tunnel the Squad had not discovered any live humans. Corpses in various stages of decomposition were not uncommon, and a few wandering Q'Hrel had been encountered. They had helped teach the Scout-Squad where to strike to execute them quickly and efficiently. Eventually though the faint echoes of human voices filtered through the tunnels.

After another kilometer or so of travel, the source of these voices were discovered. Creeping through the shadows like silent giants of grim vengeance the Scouts encountered a pack of human slaves. At least a hundred souls ranging from children to barely living elders were chained together and marched forward by a trio of Xeno's.

Before the Battle-Brothers could strike the chain gain lurched. A diseased weakened old man slumped over and stopped the slaves movements. A Q'Hrel taskmaster scuttled over and discharged welt-bringing bolts of electricity from its weapon/tool. The old man thrashed and tried to pull himself to his feet. The years of abuse had taken its toll, and the man could not rise again. Once it realized this the Xeno unlinked the elder's chain and prepared to dump the crippled slave.

The Xeno considered consuming part of the fallen slave but assumed it would be too diseased to safely consume. As it pondered this it's feeding limbs reached forth, this thought of defilement was what sealed its fate. Just as the Astartes were about to strike a bloody shriek filled the tunnel.

A little girl, no older than eleven Terran years had detached herself from the chains when they had unbuckled the old man. In her hands was a sharpened bit of metal and in her heart a lifetime worth of rage. She hurled herself at the slaver and jammed the crude dagger into one of its light-sensitive lobes. Momentary shock filled the chamber as the xeno keened in agony. Soon frantic voices echoed through the chamber as other slaves lunged at the Xenos.

Whips of energy scorched flesh from bones and blood splattered rocks gouged at the Xenos with the near-psychotic fury of the desperate. The tunnel echoed with screams both human and Xeno as the feral carnage continued. A new keening wail spread and both slaves and masters paused as they recognized the sound. A pack of hunt-beasts was scuttling along the walls, coming to assist the Xenos. The slaves started to panic and surge away from the noise. They knew the grotesque pain of the hunt-beasts blood-boiling venom. Yet a group of the younger slaves continued their frantic assault on the Xenos, even as some still attached to the work-chain were pulled away.

The Astartes watched undetected as a pack of children risked life and limb to ferally attack the Xeno. Even as their elders had run they continued the assault. As the older slaves tried to drag the children away the unmistakable noise of a second hunt-beast pack filled the tunnel. It was coming from the other direction. Trapped the work-gang started to panic until a girl, the same who had struck the beast first spoke.

"We are going to die, the tunnels are breaking and a tide of black-iron giants rampage through the depths. Our fate is certain, but how we meet it is not. Let us avenge ourselves on the Masters of C'er!"

Slowly the slaves picked up mining tools and sharpened stone, they knew the girl's words truth. They had lived as slaves for too long. These youths, each light-touched as the deep-witches called those born after the flame ignited were a different breed than their broken ancestors. Inspired by the children's wrath the slaves charged screaming at the closing in Xeno. The girl at the head of the pack. Their charge was met by hungry screeches as the Hunt-Beasts lept upon their prey. They never reached it.

Armored giants seemed to melt out of the shadows, three standing between the first pack and the rebels, two between the second pack. The xeno-creature was easily the size of the girl and had lept to sink its teeth into her neck. With one massive hand, Scout-Lieutenant Lleid caught it and crushed it into paste. In the deep baritone rumble of the Emperors Angels of Death he spoke to the girl, after millennia of language drift she could barely understand it: "Well said, child, well said."

In a storm of iron and blood, the Astartes entered the fray. Power-Machetes ripped through chitin and xeno-flesh with disturbing ease. The muffled thump Ashen-Pattern Assault Shotcannons filled the chamber as they dismembered and pulped both Hunt-Beast and Q'hrel. Lieutenant Llied weaved between acid-tipped claws and feral lunges. With the practiced ease of a trained hunter, he decapitated the creature and moved onto the next target.

Quickly and efficiently the Astartes cleaved through the Xenos. They were avatars of humanities wrath and death was their art. For the rebels senses, it was a near instantaneous slaughter. One moment the Xenos were about to butcher them, the next a pack of giants had appeared and their former masters and hunters were reduced to smears on the tunnel walls.

The first rebel, the girl who had sought to avenge her grandsire was the first to realize they were now surrounded by the giants. They had committed such violence so quickly and easily. Nothing she could do would save her people from the steel-goliaths. Even so, she would not be a slave, she would die free. Gripping her blood-slick improvised blade she snarled at the approaching thing.

It paused and looked at her through burning red eyes. A deep rumble escaped its steel face. It took her a moment to realize it was laughter. The monster was laughing at her? Slowly it buckled its weapons to its body and reached up to its head. She gasped as with a hiss and a click the beast removed its head. No, not its head, its helmet. A gasp escaped her lips as she recognized the unmistakably human features revealed. Even enhanced to an incredible size she knew it was of her species.

Slowly moving to one knee the giant-man looker her in the eyes and she asked: "Who are you? What are you? And why are you here?"

The giant-mans face crinkled with a slight smile as he spoke. "I am Scout-Lieutenant Llied, I am a soldier of the Imperium of Man, and we are from Ancient Terra and we have come to take you home."

Even with the shivers of transhuman dread twisting her gut, something inside her very soul told the girl salvation had come. Shakily she asked her final question as she gestured at the corpses of the Xenos "are you going to kill all of them?"

Placing his helm back on his head the soldier said: "Yes, in the Emperor's name none shall survive."

The girl, whose name was Senada smiled a mirthless smile, the smile of victim avenged. She knew not who this Emperor was but the Soldier respected him and he sought brutal justice for her people. That was enough for her young mind. Softly as she slumped from exhaustion she spoke "Good"

Location: The Core of Ceres

Date: 812.M30 (Ten Hours since the planet-quakes stopped.)

It had been a long arduous and strange journey for the Fifth Cohort. As they had marched deeper and deeper into the rocky dwarf-planet physics had become increasingly distorted. The Cohort had reassembled and were preparing to invade the deeper tunnels, the Legion had fully occupied the upper levels of Ceres. They had found a nexus point were numerous tunnels connected and continued in disturbing fashion. The crossroads of the tunnels slopped into great vertical shafts. The tunnels continued down into the dwarf-planet. At first, Hawkwood had assumed it was a lift shaft. For some elevator or vehicle shaft. ℟ἁNȪ𐌱Еṧ

Then one of the Jump-Infantry lept towards the pit, attempting to gauge its depth. To the Cohorts shock, the Infantry plummeted out of sight. Then the Battle-Brother walked out of the pit. Coming over the lip as if it was flat ground. Gravity was distorted, the tunnel did indeed continue down, and gravity accommodated the journey.

Carefully the Cohort edged towards the pit and felt the steady shift of gravity. The tunnel floor sloped into the vertical shaft and gravity followed. With caution, the Cohort marched into Ceres depths. Their augments protected them from the disorientation and nausea such a sudden gravity shift would cause, but even through their hypno-indoctrination a slight unease crept through the Astartes.

Deeper and deeper they delved. They met no resistance but the sounds of battle started to echo through the tunnel. Hawkwood checked his Predators Cogitator and was confused. Data-bursts indicated other cohorts had already reached the center of Ceres and were laying siege to the Xeno capital-fortress. Yet that battle raging had to be hundreds of kilometers into the deep. Something was distorting space-time to cause this.

After an hour or so of travel, the sounds of battle were accompanied by faint flashes of light and the quakes of guns. They were close. The Fifth Cohort had covered over three hundred kilometers of distance in an obscenely short time. Eventually, the tunnel opened up into the Heart of Ceres.

It was massive, a dozen kilometer wide and tall super-cavern. Their tunnel-path bent with gravity and became part of the cavern floor. Shaped like some sort of titanic cube and dotted with numerous tunnel apertures the chamber defied all human logic and reason. Each side of the chamber possessed its own gravity. Cohorts of Astartes battled on what Sgt. Hawkwood considered the ceiling and walls. A three dimensional battle of distorted gravity was being waged over the chamber and its disturbing occupant.

Floating in the center of the titanic room was a Xeno city. A spherical mass of organic architecture that filled the chamber. It was the size of an Imperial Cruiser and hung in the air and slowly rotated. Blasts of energy and biological ammunition ripped forth from coral fortresses that dotted it. Swarms of Xeno Defenders lanced forth from non-euclidean fortresses to strike the assembled forces before falling back. This was the heart of the Q'Hrel infestation.

Sgt. Hawkwood smiled with righteous fury as his tank column formed up alongside its fellows. Like the well-oiled machine they were, the Astartes crew prepared for combat and the order to fire. When it came, they and dozens of Predator Tanks fired as one upon the enemy. The Armored assets of the Legion poured fire at the Q'hrel capital.

Cannons spat death, disrupting force-fields and smashing spiral battlements. Flak fire ripped scores of Xenos from the air. Bolt Gun and Blade made quick work of those Xenos unlucky enough to get in range. From all six sides of the cube, the Legion attacked. Jetbikes and Jump-Infantry dueled Xeno warriors mid-air as they sought to land upon the floating-city. Despite the firepower leveled against it, the fortress held strong.

Great gouts of eldritch-lighting scoured along the cavern walls. Summoned and aimed by pulsating nerve-towers that stuck out of the fortress, like an oceanic bottom-feeders spines. These bolts were not the slave-breaking tools the Invasion force had encountered before. Entire Tanks and dozens of battle brothers were vaporized instantly when they struck. Seeking to avoid that fate the Legions forces moved constantly. Not allowing themselves to bunch up and become an easy target.

Even as they moved they fired. For this offense was simply an elaborate feint. The true offense was coming. With every frantic strafing run that managed to reach the Xeno-Fortress, the Jet-Bikes of the Third Formation dropped a unique payload. It was difficult flying in the zone where the gravity of the chamber flipped but the benefits outweighed any risk. Dozens of compact advanced Teleportation Homers plummeted into the Xeno-cities gravity.

When each Homer hit, an alloy-spike deployed from its base. Locking it into place as it unfolded and called into the Warp. These beacons were clever mixtures of Mechanicum skill and Primarch Genius. Designed to send a signal into the immaterium and form a safe one way, one use warp-current. The Deep-Striker Beacons as they were nicknamed allowed for a much more accurate and longer ranged teleportation.

Once enough of these Beacons were successfully planted they ignited. Hundreds of spiritual rip-tides erupted in the sea of souls. Forming a clear pathway from Teleportarium to beacon. Hundreds of Astartes braved the immaterium and arrived in a storm of warp-lighting onto the Floating City. The First Formation had arrived.

Composed of the best the other nine Formations had to offer, the First Formation was mighty. Terminators and Dreadknights thundered forth. Bolt-Shells and more exotic projectiles cut down the shocked Xeno Defenders as they marched. Master duelists and slaughterers carved through the enemy as they hunted for the Q'hrel Leaders. Eager to wet their blades and claim trophy worthy kills.

Each Legion and each formation was warfare perfected in its own way. Millenia of human knowledge in the arts of death applied to their fullest extent. Yet even they paled in face of the First Formation. Representatives of each formation fought together, complimenting each other's skills perfectly. An unmatchable version of what a Legions mixed-Chapter should be.

The Lighting-Towers were struck quickly and efficiently. Hordes of Xeno Defenders were cut down like grain before a scythe. Great weapon banks that fired cancerous projectiles and Field generators met their fate at the Astartes hands. The Q'hrel desperately retreated behind tighter and tighter defensive lines. Burrowing into the city in frantic attempts to escape the Emperor's wrath.

As the First Formation spread out and took control of the floating cities surface some of its Librarians and Tech-Marines pried open its secrets. Gravity Bridges were created, allowing the forces below to be beamed up to the Xeno City. The siege had reached its next stage. Eldritch barriers bubbled into being. Void-Coral Barriers fossilized over apertures and tunnels shriveled like poisoned veins. These did little to halt the Astartes advance. Every barrier was carved open, each door blasted apart. As inevitable as the tide they marched.

After nearly an hour of frantic fighting, the Xeno's had been pushed back to their final stronghold. The true core of Ceres. Below the twisting eldritch architecture of the Q'Hrel was something else. Ancient human metal. It became apparent to the Legion that the Q'Hrel city was a tumorous addition to the Core. An alien-metropolis grown around a relic from before Old Night.

At the heart of the Xeno City was a mighty gate. An ancient Adamantium structure the Xeno elite had fled behind it. Leaving the rest of their ilk to die. The First Formation marshaled before the Gate, preparing to breach it. As they did the other Legion elements continued the purge. The Q'Hrel had committed crimes against the human species, there would be no pity, no remorse, and no fear.

Chapter Master Durrandon of the First Formation: 4th Chapter stood before the Adamantium Gate. His Chapter had been ordered to open the gate, so far nothing had worked. Explosives, focused-Plasma gouts, melta-beams, and even a a few seconds of sustained Predator Fire had done nothing. Even some of the more esoteric arts of the Tech-Marines and Libraries had been ineffective.

The only product of these ventures had been a scant bit of information about the barrier that halted them. As the Astartes had suspected it was of human make. Whatever was beyond it was also the source of the bizarre Space/Time anomalies that plagued the Dwarf-Planet. The Xenos had found a way to hijack the ancient technology somehow, and used it to their advantage. The Gate was held strong by some esoteric mix of material and immaterial science. Durrandon doubted anything less than an orbital bombardment could crack the Gate.

Durrandon sighed as he transmitted the data back to the fleet. Maybe once the rest of the Planetoid was captured heavier equipment could be deployed. Till then they would secure the Gate and assist other forces. At least that was what he planned. An encrypted data-burst blipped through Durrandons Comm. It read "Prepare for High-Value Assist Teleportation. Deep Strike Code: Lion-Knight."

The Chapter Master was momentarily stunned by the message. Recovering quickly he started barking commands. Deep-Strike Beacons were deployed and every possible angle of attack was covered. They would fight and die to protect the Beacons while they did their work. For the Lion-Knight was none-other than their Gene-Father. The Primarch of the First Legion would be joining the battle.

Location: The Ty-Prydwen in Ceres Orbit

Date: 812.M30 (Fourteen Hours since the planet-quakes stopped.)

The Fleet-Battle was going well, the Q'Hrel were being slaughtered wholesale. Second Legion Void-Specialists were cleaning out Astroid Nests and destroying their fleet. The II Legion and Primarch proved themselves, masters of the Void, again and again. Eddard Fendragon watched this conquest with mild interest. The vast majority of his transhuman intellect was directed at coordinating the battle below. Even so, he hoped to improve his techniques by watching his brother.

The Battle for Ceres was going well. Everything was going according to Eddards projections. He had been starting to wonder if joining the battle personally would even be necessary. A Primarch on the field of battle could win any fight, but one on a command throne could win any war. Even so, he longed for combat. To wet his blade and lead the charge. Then when the information about the Gate reached him he saw an opportunity. He wanted to test his new sword alongside his Legion.

In a telepathic pulse, he called out to his Honor Guard and the Legions First Chapter. They were to assemble with him and prepare for Insertion. Updates were sent to the fleets various commanders, and he ceded operational control to his brother. Alexio would end the Void War as he finished the ground one. Leaving the command throne he headed to his arming chamber. The armor he wore was a light suit, designed to protect from hull breeches or boarding assaults. Not something a Primarch would wear on the battlefield. Automatically a Chapter Master of the Eighth Formation took Eddard place at the Ty-Prydwens helm as he left.

For this battle, he would be armed and armored with his favorite equipment. The arming servants and servitors had already gathered it. Standing in the center of his arming chamber Eddard allowed the mechanical arms to remove his light armor and prepare his Wargear.

First was a suit of armor that was neither standard power armor nor terminator. Akin to his Fathers and the Custodes in design. Its Auramite was Obsidian Black with only its trim maintaining the original golden luster. In every way, it was beyond the standard plate of the Legion. Artificial muscles strengthened the Primarchs might even further. Auramite plates could stop all but the harshest blows. Sensors and psychic interfaces filled the helm. A unique hybrid-field generator known as the Nemean Halo would protect from all but the most brutal directed energy attacks. This was fastened to an enhanced backpack power-unit that could feed on Eddards psychic might if need be.

It lacked the ornateness of some of his other armors, or of what some of his brothers would wear into battle. That suited the First-Born just fine. It was utilitarian, efficient and yet still beautiful in the same way a master-crafted blade was. Perfect for his uses. The only decoration it possessed came in the form of its Legion markings, the Emperor's own sigil in place of a rank. (An honor awarded only to the Primarchs, Valdor, and Taranis) and a Lion-head crest on its breast-plate. The armor itself had not been named yet, it was known simply as the Black-Plate to those who knew of it.

The Titan-Sword was firmly attached to his left hip by an ancient scabbard, also taken from the Sigillites Vault. The Sword was bound to his very soul. In the short time, he had owned it the blade had become an extension of the Primarchs being. He was eager to test it on the field of battle. Above the blade on his hip was the Primarchs left arm and on it his other weapon. All sons at some point consciously or subconsciously mimic their father. Eddard was no different. The left arm of Black-Plate was a massive Power-Claw. With sword in one hand and Claw in other, the Imperiums Black Knight looked the umbric image of his father.

Unlike his father's golden Talons, Eddards power-claw was built to mimic the claws of some gigantic feline. The armored gauntlet was bulky like his fathers, a mass of auramite and Adamantium that housed archaic mechanisms. Its hulking fingers ended in atom-sharp claws, that could ignite with crackling energy. Underneath the claws forearm was a built-in underslung Plasma weapon. A unique creation of the Primarch known as the Lion-Fire. Designed for tactical flexibility, both its fusion core and electromag-field generator could be easily manipulated. Allowing Eddard to choose what sort of projectile it fired. From streams of superheated gas burning like a Flamer. To super-contained bolts of energy that broke through their magnetic cage once they had punctured a foe's armor. Eddard was psychically powerful but could not atomotize a Xeno-Champion with a thought like the Emperor. Instead, a gout of plasma would make do.

The last piece of wargear to come online was a gift from Kalib and Culain. It was a shield fitting of the Emperors Blade. It was not a bulky Stormshield or anything of the sort. Built into Eddards massive power-claw was a single ornate gem. Easily the size of a mortal man's head was a wonder of psionic and barrier technology. The Ebony Grail, a device that combined miniaturized Mechanicum Knight Ion-Shield technology and telekine barriers. With a thought Eddard could summon an energy field powered by his armor and his mind capable of stopping a Lascannon shot. When activated a golden black shield composed of runes and esoteric energy ignited over his arm and covered his entire left flank in a shimmering field. The only way it was inferior to its Questor mounted kin was its inability to be moved. A Martian Knights Ion-Shield could be moved independently to deflect incoming projectiles. The Ebony Grail acted much more like a traditional shield and moved with its bearer.

Armed and armored the Primarch let his consciousness expand into his arms and armor. The neural ports in his spine allowed a far better connection than his gene-sons carapace. With a subsonic hum, the Armor came to life and the Primarch peered through his helms lenses. The Emperor's Sword left his arming Chamber and prepared to join the fight.

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