V3 Chapter 74: Nurgle, Khorne, Krieg
Even the Imperium's powerful orbital defences could not stop the enemy's near-suicidal landing.
The Khorne-worshipping Astartes and mortal cultists had already been consumed entirely by the hunger to kill. They craved blood, and cared nothing at all for whether that blood was the enemy's or their own. Great numbers of transport craft were torn apart by gunfire before they even reached the atmosphere, yet the ships that remained still dove straight through anti-air fire toward Badab Prime.
In Dominus, Badab Prime's primary hive city, a major transit artery between the lower hive and the under-hive had already been taken over by the Krieg 1173rd Combat Group.
After repeated rounds of replenishment, the combat group's fighting strength had climbed back to thirty thousand men. Against a lower hive too vast to properly measure, that was a pitiful number, but it was more than enough to hold a single reinforced transit junction.
The men of Krieg had built several defence lines in depth across the main passage.
The foremost line was built from sandbags, metal partitions, and wrecked transport vehicles, with heavy bolters, autocannons, and flamers arrayed behind it. Artillery crews, engineers, and reserves were spread through the deeper tunnels and loading platforms, ready to plug any breach the moment it opened.
Countless plague zombies pressed against their line.
Swarms of Nurglings giggled amid the corpse tide, while Plaguebearers gripped their rust-eaten swords, murmuring some calculation no one else could understand. A handful of massive Beasts of Nurgle shouldered their way through the passage, leaving trails of viscous slime and rot in their wake.
Major General Holst, commander-in-chief of the Krieg 1173rd Combat Group, stood at a half-open observation post inside the underground tactical bunker behind the main line.
He still wore the same knee-length dark grey officer's greatcoat, a black metal breastplate patched and repaired more times than could be counted over his chest. A dull gold double-headed eagle sat set into the plate's centre, and three service medals, once awarded by the crusade's own high command, hung upon his left breast.
An officer's steel helm, crowned with a black-and-red vertical plume, covered the top of his head.
His face lay entirely hidden behind a gas mask, only two dim lenses reflecting the distant flare of battle.
Holst stood before the observation slit, hands clasped behind his back.
Blasts of hot air kept rolling in through the slit, carrying the stench of burnt flesh, tugging at his coat. Below, gunfire never let up, and the Krieg soldiers kept their fire steady, cutting down the corpse tide in whole rows as it neared the first line.
Rein, Chief Commissar of the 1173rd Combat Group, made his way up the narrow passage to the observation post and stopped beside Holst.
"Our line's holding for now."
Rein glanced down at the battlefield below, then continued. "The real danger right now is the other lower-hive lines."
"The PDF units enhanced by General Duvette's powers are in terrible shape, discipline-wise. Some of the men have refused rotation orders, and two units nearly opened fire on each other fighting over ammunition."
There was clear displeasure in Rein's voice.
"Good thing we sent a Provost battalion ahead to take the transit node in hand, or the situation could well have already spun out of control."
Holst kept his eyes on the battlefield.
Rein went on. "I'd recommend sending in more combat personnel. Those PDF units have real fighting strength now, but their officers can't hold them in check. The moment the line comes under real pressure, something could break loose at any time."
Holst nodded.
He turned to look at Rein and spoke only a handful of words.
"Send two more battalions."
"Double the Provosts."
"Any officer who refuses an order is relieved on the spot. Any resistance, execution."
Rein nodded.
"Understood."
He had long since grown used to his old partner's way of doing things.
The men of Krieg were silent, methodical, and rarely showed any change of feeling in the face of death. They were as unyielding as the weapons they carried year after year, and just as cold.
Still, earning real acceptance from men like these was, in the end, no small thing.
Rein shook his head and had just turned to head for the other lines to see discipline enforced there, when a heavy tremor rolled through the ceiling above them.
The great industrial dome above them, over a thousand metres tall, was entirely lost in darkness and smoke. It sat at the outer edge of the hive city, its far side exposed directly to Badab Prime's open atmosphere, forming part of the hive's own outer armour.
Rein and Holst both looked up at once.
The massive rivets anchoring the dome's armour plating began popping loose one after another, spinning as they fell from above. Right behind them, lines of white-hot cutting fire appeared across the armour's surface, spreading rapidly outward.
"What's that?"
Rein stared upward.
Molten metal plating dripped down as glowing steel from the widening cracks. It splashed onto the tiered platforms and transport bridges below, burning through railings and throwing everything beneath into chaos.
Another great crash sounded.
A massive section of the dome's armour buckled inward, then, amid a violent shudder, tore completely free. Dozens of tonnes of metal fragments, piping, and concrete rained down from above, smashing through several tiers of transport platforms. Mixed in with the falling debris were a great many black, claw-fronted drop pods.
"Dreadclaws."
Rein recognised the unmistakable Chaos assault craft almost instantly.
The first wave of Dreadclaws had used thermal cutters to tear the dome open, and more drop pods now poured in through the widening breach behind them. More than fifty Dreadclaws trailing flame tore across the sky above the industrial district, some smashing straight through suspension bridges, others crashing directly into elevated transit lines.
A cargo platform was knocked clean off its rail in the impact and plunged into the abyss below, its stacked containers falling with it.
A crane high above was struck by a Dreadclaw, its massive arm tilting slowly before it crashed down onto a lower transit bridge, crushing a mass of local infrastructure and derelict equipment beneath it.
The Dreadclaws' retro-thrusters fired one after another.
The grim assault pods roared as they adjusted their descent, finally slamming down not far ahead of the Krieg main line.
Right where a great mass of Nurgle daemons and plague zombies had already gathered.
Major General Holst turned at once.
"1168th Infantry Regiment."
"Seal off the landing zone."
"Recalibrate the heavy guns, adjust firing angles."
The order went out fast.
A Krieg infantry regiment advanced along a side transport passage, while engineers at the second line prepared demolition charges on the surrounding bridges. Anti-tank crews swung their barrels to bear on the Dreadclaws that had just touched down.
But the Nurgle daemons nearer to the landing site had already reacted.
Swarms of Nurglings, laughing gleefully, scrambled over the plague zombies toward the Dreadclaws. The silent Plaguebearers turned as well, still murmuring their count under their breath, rusted swords dragging across the metal floor.
A Beast of Nurgle swayed its bloated body forward, shouldering through the crowd of corpses, closing on the nearest Dreadclaw.
Just as it was about to reach the assault pod, an enraged roar tore out from inside.
The armoured hatch at its base burst open.
A tall, blood-red figure was the first to charge out.
He wore heavy power armour, and swung a great execution axe with both hands. The blade tore across the Beast of Nurgle's head at full speed, splitting rotten flesh and foul fluid alike.
Shalok the Skull Harvester bellowed and slammed straight into the mass of Nurglings and Plaguebearers.
His execution axe fell again and again, each swing claiming several daemons at once. Nurglings still giggling and cavorting were trampled into paste, and Plaguebearers who managed to raise their blades were cut down, sword and all, by Shalok's next stroke.
More Dreadclaw hatches burst open one after another.
Close to five hundred elite Oathbreakers poured out of the assault pods, the Butcher's Nails screaming in their skulls. They could no longer tell whether it was Imperial soldiers or Nurgle daemons blocking their path; all they knew was that flesh stood there, waiting to be torn apart.
The Oathbreakers did not wait for orders.
They raised chain-axes and power weapons and charged into the daemon horde behind Shalok. The Nurglings' laughter was soon drowned out beneath the roar of chain weapons and furious bellowing.
Rein stood at the observation post, watching two Chaos forces collide head-on before the Krieg position.
Holst had already turned his gaze further out.
The Oathbreakers would carve their way through the Nurgle daemons before long.
And once they did, the Krieg line would be their only remaining target.
Their purpose was one thing, and one thing only.
Blood.
They meant to turn the entire lower hive into a slaughterhouse.
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