Within the atmosphere:
A fleet of 1,000 DR-4 Viking dropships and over 300 F-76 Thunderbolt attack aircraft maintained an altitude of roughly 3,000 meters as they sped northward. According to the intelligence provided by the Federation's agencies, the capital town of New Hope's colony was situated in the northern desert.
Based on the reports, the capital had a total population of just over 200,000. Even if the entire populace were armed, their numbers wouldn't come close to the 40,000 mobile infantry aboard the Viking dropships.
More critically, after entering the atmosphere, they completely lost contact with the expedition fleet. Before entering, pilots could still observe the battle between the expedition fleet and the Blood Angels' 1st Company from afar with the naked eye. But now, under clear skies and with the dazzling sunlight above, it was impossible to visually discern the outcome of the battle in orbit.
Even communication between the dropships and the attack aircraft was disabled.
As a result, the pilots could only follow the pre-established plan: transporting 40,000 mobile infantry to the capital town, eliminating the Imperium's ground forces, and capturing high-value officials in the process.
In the worst-case scenario, if the expedition fleet were defeated or even entirely wiped out, the mobile infantry would still have leverage to negotiate with the enemy if they succeeded in their mission.
At least, that was their assumption.
What they didn't realize was that the Federation intelligence on key locations and detailed reports had been fabricated by the Blood Angels' intelligent AI.
The so-called "capital town" was devoid of any local population. There were no space gates linking the primary universe and the "One-Four" universe. Even basic resources such as water and food were scarce.
Instead, the town was merely a bait trap populated by over 6,000 disposable cloned soldiers and more than a dozen heavily armored Tyrants operated by human pilots.
This town, hastily constructed, was designed purely to lure the mobile infantry in. Its exterior appearance was made realistic enough to be convincing, but there was no need to perfect every detail.
To make the bait more convincing, Sanguinius had stationed cloned soldiers, armored Tyrants, and a few light armored vehicles in the town. The combat parameters of the cloned soldiers were deliberately downgraded to avoid overwhelming the mobile infantry. If the clones operated at their optimal capacity, it was possible that the 6,000 clones could completely rout the 40,000 mobile infantry.
The main task of the Tyrants, meanwhile, was to eliminate commissioned officers at the captain or lieutenant level, thereby paving the way for embedded Imperial agents to infiltrate and manipulate the situation.
Since no actual humans were stationed in the town, the Imperium and the Blood Angels had no qualms about sacrificing every unit in the bait.
Currently, the massive aerial formation was just 20 kilometers away from the bait town in the heart of the desert. Suddenly, one F-76 Thunderbolt accelerated and broke away from the formation.
Moments later, over a dozen more Thunderbolts followed, charging directly toward the bait town.
"…"
Two Viking dropship pilots carrying Rico, Carmen, and others witnessed this with a look of admiration in their eyes.
Without communications between the fleet or their formation, communication had become their greatest challenge. Their electronics were also jammed, making it impossible to scan the town's defenses from afar.
The pilots of the Thunderbolts were likely risking their lives to probe the town's anti-air defenses and report back to the rest of the formation. Their bravery spurred others to follow.
This group of Thunderbolts formed a "suicide reconnaissance squad." As they neared the outskirts of the town, the pilots began deploying a barrage of flares.
Whoosh—Whoosh—!
Suddenly, dozens of small anti-air missiles streaked into the sky, locking onto the Thunderbolts despite the interference from the flares.
What made matters worse was that these missiles were more than twice as fast as the Thunderbolts.
!!!
Realizing the danger, the reconnaissance pilots immediately pulled their ejection levers. Protective hatches flew open, ejecting the pilots and their seats out of the cockpits.
However, before their parachutes could even deploy—
Boom! Boom-boom-boom!!!
The missiles struck their targets with deadly precision, detonating the unmanned Thunderbolts and turning them into flaming fireballs.
!
The explosions were so intense that the fireballs were visible even from a dozen kilometers away.
Confirming the town's comprehensive anti-air defenses, the formation—now unable to rely on the Thunderbolts for long-range scanning or targeting—immediately decided to land and proceed with a ground assault.
The Thunderbolts could have bombarded the town from high altitude, using tactical nukes attached to their payloads to obliterate the target area.
However, with the situation unclear and communications severed from the fleet, the pilots unanimously understood that "nuking" the town would only make matters worse. Such an act would not only saddle them with the stigma of slaughtering civilians but would also sever their last chance at negotiation with the Imperium.
Without civilian or high-ranking hostages as bargaining chips, how could they engage in diplomacy?
As a result, the Thunderbolts lowered their altitude and landed vertically in flat areas to prepare for ground support operations.
Meanwhile, the DR-4 Viking dropships, known for their durability, landed or hovered at designated locations regardless of the terrain.
Inside one of the Viking dropships carrying Lyon, Carmen, and Rico:
"Attention, everyone! We've lost contact with the fleet and the rest of the formation. Once the DR-4 lands, all personnel are to immediately establish defensive positions around the dropship. Engineers will set up temporary communication bases to restore real-time communication between platoons and companies. Once communications are restored, we will march on the target town and proceed with the mission: eliminate the enemy, capture the objectives, and protect civilians!"
A lieutenant in charge of the platoon shouted instructions to the 40-odd mobile infantry seated in the troop bay. His booming voice echoed throughout the compartment.
At the end, he raised his voice further, demanding, "Do you all understand?!"
"Sir! Yes, sir!"
Lyon, Carmen, and the other infantry yelled back in unison.
Unlike the officers and pilots, who had a broader understanding of the tactical situation, the rank-and-file infantry were unaware of the fleet's predicament. Their only job was to land, attack, and kill the enemy. As such, their morale remained relatively high.
Thud, thud!
The Viking's landing gear made contact with the sand. Safety restraints automatically disengaged, allowing the soldiers to move freely.
The lieutenant was the first to stand, followed by Lyon, Carmen, and Rico. As the troop bay doors opened—
"Move, move, move!"
The lieutenant led the charge, jumping down onto the sandy terrain. Lyon and the others followed closely behind.
The harsh sunlight forced many new recruits to shield their eyes with their hands. Once they adjusted, they saw other Viking dropships and equally confused infantry scattered nearby.
But thanks to rigorous training, the recruits quickly overcame their hesitation and began setting up defensive positions around their dropships.
After ensuring the area was secure, the lieutenant barked another order:
"Engineers! Communications team! Use the Vikings to construct a comms base. I want real-time communication established within three minutes!"
"Yes, sir!"
The engineers and communications specialists promptly retrieved their equipment and began assembling a communications hub.
Elsewhere, a veteran approached Lyon and asked quietly, "What's going on here? And why can't we communicate?"
"Electronic interference," a nearby recruit interjected before Lyon could reply. "Isn't it obvious? That's why you keep failing your written tests."
"Electronic interference… so if both our fleet and dropships are jammed, does that mean the Imperium's tech is ahead of ours?"
The veteran hit the nail on the head.
The other recruits fell silent, their expressions reflecting their shared concern.
The implication was clear: if their communications were jammed, didn't that suggest the Federation was technologically inferior to the Imperium?
Boom. Boom-boom…
Suddenly, a faint rumbling reached their ears.
???
The soldiers instinctively looked up at the cloudless sky.
Massive, flaming "meteors" streaked across the atmosphere, plummeting toward the eastern horizon.
!!
The sight sparked unease among the mobile infantry. Even the greenest recruits understood that the so-called "meteors" were fragments of destroyed starships.
If the Imperium could single-handedly jam their communications, it stood to reason that their fleet had also been defeated.
"Attention, all units! This is Colonel Honard Thompson!"
Just as panic began to brew, a commanding voice came through their helmets, broadcasting to all infantry:
"Despite the enemy's electronic interference, our fleet will not be defeated so easily. Stay calm! Follow your commanding officers and proceed with the mission. By sunset, we will take the target town!"
The colonel's words were decisive, restoring some semblance of order and confidence among the soldiers.
The lieutenant commanding Lyon's platoon then issued further orders:
"Kennedy, lead squads 1 and 2 to rendezvous with the main force and advance on the town 10 kilometers ahead. The rest of you, follow me!"
"Yes, sir!" Lyon responded, raising his arm and signaling northward. "Frost, Ace, Rico! Squad 1, take point!"
"Yes, sir!"
From a bird's-eye view, over 35,000 mobile infantry began advancing toward the bait town in small squad formations. Several thousand others remained behind to secure
the landing zone and protect the Vikings.
The Thunderbolts, once their communications with the ground officers were restored, took to the skies again to provide air support. However, without precise targeting or scanning capabilities, the infantry would rely on traditional smoke markers to signal bombing zones.
Under the relentless heat of the desert sun, over 35,000 infantry marched across the barren wasteland. To the east, the "ship debris" continued to crash into the ground, nearly 100 kilometers away.
The infantry paid little attention to the wreckage. They knew it would require specialized recovery teams to search for salvageable materials.
Meanwhile, Colonel Thompson ordered a detachment of 200 soldiers aboard five Vikings to investigate the crash site once the main force engaged the town.
As for the main force, they had already reached the town's outskirts.
From their vantage point, officers using reconnaissance equipment spotted several hundred cloned soldiers manning the defensive walls.
The clones, equipped with full-body exoskeletons and modular AWMS rifles that appeared more advanced than the Morita series, gave the impression of being elite troops. The officers had no way of knowing that these were merely disposable units, identical in every way.
Seeing this, the lieutenant commanding Lyon's group relayed new orders:
"Missile teams, prepare to fire conventional missiles at the enemy fortifications!"
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [[email protected]/Mutter]
[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]