"Well, what do we have here?" I muttered under my breath while the tech-priests finished their dances with tambourines.
Maintenance in the Imperial forces was top notch, and with machines like the Knights, they treated it like a god. Probably only the Titans were treated with greater reverence, which couldn't help but please. I also liked the educational programs, because it turns out that pilots had to devote three whole hours to preparing their minds and bodies before landing on the Throne Mechanicum.
Of course, there was some nonsense here and there, but overall there was a grain of truth. For example, if the emotional state was unstable, there was a high risk of error, both accidental at the moment of control and involuntary. After all, the entire body was connected to the Machine, from the muscles and nervous system to the soul. Or was the soul separate? I don't know, I didn't care.
As well as following all the rules, like memorizing litanies, I wasn't going to. Well, that's complete nonsense, I can clear my mind without it. For example, I'll read the Imperial Truths. Every soldier here has these books by Lorgar under their pillow. Lectitio Divinitatus, aka Divine Revelation, or why the Emperor is a god and everyone should worship him. The most popular book in the galaxy, which for some reason, despite all the Emperor's atheism, is not banned. And it's hard to believe that something like this happened without the knowledge of the Emperor himself.
"What heresy," I chuckled, after which the Knight's hatch was slammed shut by the tech-priest, who looked at me with disapproval and at how, instead of completely merging with the Machine, I was reading books.
In general, my hands were free, moreover, inside the pilot's cabin there were all sorts of levers that, if necessary, had to be activated by the handles. For example, the fire extinguishing system did not always work automatically, plus it was possible to redirect the power and all that stuff by the handles, right up to controlling the guns with the help of manipulators.
But of course, nothing could compare to control via the Throne of the Mechanicum, and only with its help could a Knight claim the title of God of War. Manual control was simply a last resort and a way to try to screw the enemy over, for example, by causing a core overload.
Meanwhile, I was shaking. Fortuna had already left the warp and the fleet was immediately rushing into battle, but the Dark Angels forces also needed our help, they were conducting a siege here, but because of the too-quick reaction of the Rangda, they were trapped on the planet. And I was delivered to the planet by a giant capsule, somewhat reminiscent of the landing pods of the Space Marines, only slower and therefore more vulnerable. But the landing would be soft.
- Oh, shit... - I cursed and the book flew out of my hand. - Did something get in there?
The anti-aircraft barrage rained down on us with a furious fire of molten metal, I could literally hear the plating tearing and the air flying into the gaps. Afterwards, the fire from entering the atmosphere penetrated inside, but one way or another, not a single fragment left any serious damage to the Knight's armor. Even the ion shields did not sag much.
All thanks to the Dark Angels operation, as well as the preliminary suppression of the main planetary batteries. The remnants of the air defense went into milk thanks to traps and decoys, only a small share of random hits fell on us, while the ground was getting closer.
And shaking the earth, my capsule plunged right onto the battlefield, crushing the enemy bunker. The critically damaged but fulfilled its role shell fell apart with a roar, and without waiting for the automatic opening, I knocked down the doors and rushed into the thick of the battle.
I immediately spotted a target in the form of a dug-in tank unit at the height of the second echelon of defense. And without thinking twice, I rushed straight to them, covering myself with a shield. Having already learned from bitter experience, I understood that the worst thing a Knight can do is hesitate. Here I set the pace for the enemy, not he for me, and only by forcing him to retreat could I win. And even if I didn't manage to survive, the allies would continue the furious onslaught, turning the offensive into an avalanche.
However, thanks to the help of the Imperial Army and the Space Marines, my advance was unproblematic. As soon as a grenade launcher emerged from the trenches and bunkers, his head immediately exploded. Immediately after that, the Space Marines were already changing positions, advancing from one fortification to another, gnawing at the enemy's defenses like a wolf at a deer's neck.
Well, behind everyone came the regular infantry, crushing the xenos left without support companies with their army boots.
"I thought it would be more difficult," I chuckled again, covering myself with the shield of my left hand and fearlessly transferring all my energy to the frontal barriers.
My rear and flanks were covered, so I simply went head-on, and the dug-in tanks, although they hit, clearly did not have time to discharge even my shields. The plasma heart was burning with rage and the Knight was humming, after which the servos began to grind in anger and my plasma spear tore apart the first tank. I immediately broke the barrel of the next tank with a kick. No one and nothing could stop me.
And yet, even so, the battle was tough. The infantry died in battle, because the xenos fortifications were full of bunkers. At the moment of the heat of battle, I was hit in the back by an enemy gun, pulled out and immediately destroyed, but managed to fire one shot. The enemy also prevailed and it was worth giving credit to the Rangdans, they were real warriors and their entire culture was built on war. Even the top were military men who had worked their way up, starting as privates.
We could force the slaves, some of the Rangdan allies, to flee, but not the Rangdans themselves, who were ready to run at tanks even with their bare hands. In addition, their combat experience was comparable to ours, and their doctrines of war were honed by countless battles. To top it all off, Rangda did not forbid the study of AI and somehow managed to avoid the pernicious influence of the warp. As a result, the enemy had experience, skill, vast numbers of manpower and technological superiority.
In truth, he could not oppose anything to the Knights, as well as many other gifts of the Dark Age of Technology. Therefore, although with difficulty, Rangde managed to give battle and even impose his conditions, using the resources of all the worlds brought to agreement.
"Did you know that some of the Imperial Army ships went over to the enemy's side?" Birdie asked, incarnating inside the cockpit and beginning to study the instruments, the readings on which meant little to her.
"No," I replied, lifting an entire tank above me with a plasma lance while its charred crew fell straight onto the Knight's hull, breaking bones and leaving bloody marks. "Where did you hear that?"
— Here and there. Rumors.
— It's better not to believe rumors.
- But there's no smoke without fire. The rumors came from somewhere, which means there could be traitors among us.
And suddenly, AI-controlled autocannons started rising up from the ground behind me. They had lured us behind the second echelon and were now going to shoot us in the back. The plan was good, if not for the Dark Angels, who had already pulled this trick on us. So, plasma grenades immediately started flying, blowing up the last barrier to the breakthrough to the next lines of defense.
"Mordred," Tyukhe's voice came through the speakers, holding the flanks with his second company. "There's an enemy fort to your right. Make a breach, otherwise we'll suffer unnecessary losses."
- Accepted.
And immediately turning my Knight, I rushed along the front, seeing the walls of the fort looming on the horizon. Hundreds of embrasures, dozens of guns, machine guns roared non-stop, and plasma beams cut the sky, shooting down everything that flew over the fort. But the worst was from the central fortification, where the rail gun was located. It was located under a covered dome and ion shields. It opened only when a worthy target appeared, such as the Knight.
Given the Knight's height, the horizon was quite a distance away for me. However, the central fortification was even higher, which is why I was spotted approaching much earlier.
"Oh, he'll be here soon," the Bird chirped and immediately disappeared from the physical world.
I reflexively covered myself with a shield, and just in time. The projectile launched by the rail discharged the frontal shield and ricocheted off my ion glove, which was also a shield. The power of the shot even made me squint slightly, because I didn't have time to take a stable position. However, thanks to Birdie, I managed to avoid serious damage.
"Recharging," said Birdie, already flying somewhere in the sky and looking at the entire battlefield.
As soon as the enemy noticed that my shields were discharged, the barrage of fire fell with new fury. The infantry fired from everything they had, apparently believing that their caliber would be able to penetrate such strong armor. I sped up, not paying attention to the ants under my feet. It was necessary to destroy the fort as soon as possible, because I might not survive a second shot.
"Damn it, why didn't they put a couple of bolter guns on this thing?!" I cursed, moving further and further. "We'll have to make the techno-morons attach something with long range to this thing!"
Now it became clear to me why every pilot upgraded his machine. Because these masterpieces of war created by the SShK were morally obsolete and simplified for easier production by the colonies. However, with our industrial power, it was possible to at least attach adamantium plates on top, as well as install a plasma cannon. There are resources, especially since the Knight is not a stub-revolver, supplies will be strained for it and send everything that is needed.
"The dome has opened again," the bird's voice rang out. "Only the corner is lower, it seems they're aiming at your feet."
"Fuck," I cursed again, realizing that my lower limbs were protected much worse than the cabin and that if I got hit, my leg would definitely be torn off, and I wouldn't be able to cover myself with a shield either.
So, suddenly starting to brake, I stuck my spear right into the trench, turning some poor guy into a mess, and using the spear as a support, I suddenly started to change the direction of movement. Relatively suddenly, because after all, the Knight is a huge and heavy machine that does not want to change the direction of its inertia.
But with a crash of metal and a creaking of servos, I managed to move aside just as the shot was fired. The metal projectile flew past again, ploughed the ground, and deformed, flying into the sky, only to fall on someone's head a few seconds later.
I snatched the spear and continued moving towards the target, praying to make it before the third shot. However, prayers are prayers, God the Emperor protects and all that, but this time I initially moved in such a way that if anything happened I could hide my legs behind at least some elevation or tank debris. Meanwhile, the ion shields recharged, another projectile flew between my eyes again and I took it on my shield, again thanks to Birdie.
And then there was the home stretch. The fort walls were right in front of me and now a barrage of all calibers was falling on me. They were firing with everything they had left, but the main rail simply couldn't get low enough to shoot at me. And all the efforts of this small-bore only amused me.
"Now it's my turn to have fun!" I shouted with a grin, and a terrifying roar came from the external speakers, demoralizing the enemy.
At full speed, I thrust the plasma spear straight into the wall. There was an explosion and the fortifications began to crack, but then I leaned on it with all my weight, forcing the wall to collapse inward. Then I began to strike the embrasures, the towers, all the doors with my spear. The plasma explosions created such pressure in the rooms that no one remained alive inside, and sometimes collapses occurred.
Chaos reigned in the courtyard of the fort and although the main cannon was already firing at another target, it became clear to the defenders: the fort would soon be taken. And as soon as I reached the central room and was able to inflict critical damage on the rail, the space marines had already arrived inside.
"Excellent work, Mordred. They'll sort this out themselves, come back to us," Tyukhe said over the vox.
I spent some time inside the fort to recharge the ion shields, and then moved back. At the same time, some kind of madness began inside the fort. The Space Marines dealt with the defenders with particular cruelty, mainly in close combat, turning the battle into some kind of massacre. They literally enjoyed every moment and it might even seem that they forgot about the main task.
These were the World Eaters, and if these legionaries were that mad, then their Primarch… I could only hope that he would not come here. After all, such allies can only be used as cannon fodder, or better yet, not used at all, because at the fateful moment they can do anything due to the passion of battle.
And so the military operation continued to clear the Zervana system, with Zervana IV being the biggest problem. However, it was only after a day of war, having somehow wrested the initiative from the enemy fleet thanks to the arrival of reinforcements in the form of additional Death Guard and Space Wolves forces, that the full scale of the problems ahead was realized.
Zervana-4 was more than just a well-fortified world.
"Damn it, another network of tunnels," Tyukhe cursed over the comm. "Mordred, shut it down too."
I immediately obeyed and lowered the spear into the descent, after which a plasma explosion collapsed everything there and destroyed everyone who had not gone far enough. However, the network of such tunnels was colossal. My allies had already descended into some of them and advancing there turned into hell. Losses increased several times, turrets moved out of the walls, the enemy released gas, used fire and sometimes undermined the paths themselves.
As a result, sometimes we simply collapsed the tunnels so that the enemy would not emerge behind us. However, the further we went, the worse the intelligence reported. Rangda not only had underground fortifications, it had moved military production and cities there. That is, even if we turned the entire surface into a scorched field, dropped virus bombs and left no stone unturned on Zervan-4, the enemy would still survive.
In addition, to maintain the blockade, we would have to leave many ships. And the enemy himself would come out, shoot back and hide again, thus forcing our fleet to suffer losses and waste ammunition or retreat. Retreat meant the possibility of creating a logistics route. In general, Zervana threatened to become a bone in the throat because of which we could suffer huge losses or even lose the war.
And when we tried to drill our own separate path to the enemy positions once again, we were attacked by worm-like robots again. They drilled their paths towards us and exploded, destroying the equipment. The Rangdans clearly understood who they were fighting against, knew their own weak points and prepared countermeasures for our every move. However, the enemy command headquarters failed to calculate one extremely important detail. By the way, even some primarchs could not do this.
Moiran made his move and appeared on the battlefield along with a dozen of his chosen. Exhausted from the protracted flight, their faces showed the shadow of the incredible pain and suffering they had endured. Few could guess the true reasons for this, but all the attention of the allies was riveted not on their faces, but on the weapons in the hands of the primarch and his warriors.
- Your-e-e-e mother... - I drawled, looking at the swords in the hands of the space marine. - They melted down the sword of that demon prince?!
"How did they do that?! This is a psychic weapon, not some kind of rebar!" Birdie was surprised, and immediately rushed to Moiran to sit on his shoulder and carefully examine the blade of the sword.
Moiran removed his helmet and smiled broadly at all his friends, seemingly unaware of the reaction he had provoked from most of the Astartes of the other Legions, and even from some of his own sons. And being fully confident that he was raising morale, the Primarch gave his cry, raising his defiled weapon point-blank to the sky:
— TOWARDS DESTINY, BROTHERS AND SISTERS!!! NO XENOS CAN CRUSH THE IMPERIUM!!!
And the Primarch personally led the first company, rushing into a frontal attack on the enemy, ready for anything, but not for one of the leaders of the troops of such a conservative Imperium to take up the damned weapon, spitting on all the rules.
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