Warhammer 40K_ Fall Of Damnos Part 18

'Maintain fire,' he said. 'We need to draw them on.'

But the necrons had stopped advancing and occupied static positions. A small cohort of elites had joined the raider constructs, their heavier fire swelling the barrage.

Praxor registered a couple of hits on his tactical display but so far no red icons. Several s.p.a.ce Marines were at amber status injured but still effective.

Elianu Trajan added his voice to the battle, 'Repel them, brothers. Bring down the soulless xenos, hated in all its forms. Do not relent. There is no forgiveness, no quarter. Guilliman is watching!'

He couldn't see the Chaplain the fog was too thick now but Praxor noted his position on the tactical map, accompanying Atavian's Devastators. He was advancing swiftly: soon he'd be with the tactical squads. Praxor could almost feel his wrath already.

'Pour it on!' yelled Daceus. All the while the shadow of the monolith was getting closer. Still the necrons took the hammering, refusing to move, refusing to commit their command nodes to the fight.

'Do they know our plan, captain?' he asked over the clangour.

Sicarius was adamant. 'Impossible. They are not engaging because of the monolith.' Daceus heard the snarl behind his captain's battle-helm. So far, the captain's objectives were eluding him. The storm was worsening, though. Visibility was weak to poor. If they were going to break off then now was the time.

'We need to destroy that thing. Do you still have your melta bombs, sergeant?'

Daceus let off a burst of bolter fire then nodded.

Sicarius holstered his plasma pistol. 'Give them up.'

Handing them over, Daceus said, 'What are you going to do?'

Mag-locking the additional melta bombs to his armour, Sicarius replied, 'Take out that monolith. Gaius, I'll need your blade.'

The company champion bowed his head. 'I am yours to command, my lord.'

'Captain' Daceus began.

'It is my duty, sergeant,' he said, and his posture took on a nurturing look. 'I know you would throw yourself into the h.e.l.ls of the warp for me, Daceus. You are more than merely my sergeant you are my ally, my friend.'

Daceus saluted by slamming his fist against his chestplate. 'Courage and honour, Cato.'

'Courage and honour, Retius.' It had been many years since the two had exchanged first-name greetings, and never before on the battlefield. There was something about it, and this war, that Daceus did not like. It felt significant in a way, an ending of sorts. It did not portend well.

Sicarius showed none of his sergeant's misgivings. 'You have command. See the plan out.'

Then, together with Gaius, he ran into the fog.

Praxor saw two cobalt figures running from the Lions' position. With the adverse weather, he couldn't be sure who they were.

'Brother-sergeant?'

'I don't know, Etrius. Maintain fire.'

Sergeant Daceus's voice crackled over the feed. 'All flanking forces, converge on the Lions' lead. We move now!'

The rest of the command squad broke off from the battle line, headed in the opposite direction to the pair of Ultramarines.

'Temple of Hera,' breathed Praxor. 'It was Captain Sicarius.'

'Guilliman's breath, what is he doing?' asked Krixous.

Though he was saying it, Praxor could still not quite believe it. 'He is living up to his legend, and going to destroy the monolith.'

Etrius was incredulous. 'Alone?'

The reply sounded hollow even to Praxor. 'Gaius Prabian is with him.'

'Make their sacrifice a deed of honour!' boomed Agrippen, plasma cannon pulsing. 'He is Cato Sicarius, High Suzerain, Captain of the Second and Master of the Watch. On this field, he is Guilliman's sword; we are all all Guilliman's sword.' The Dreadnought had regrouped with the Devastators and was intensifying fire along with Ultracius. Guilliman's sword.' The Dreadnought had regrouped with the Devastators and was intensifying fire along with Ultracius.

Praxor found his purpose refocussed after the ancient warrior's words. Sicarius's reckless bravery would not be in vain. In his retinal display, he saw Indomitable was moving. Not to be outdone by Sergeant Solinus, Praxor led the Shieldbearers after them. As they joined up with the Lions, his gaze met Trajan's.

'He has the courage of Invictus and the guile of Galatan. Banish your doubts, brother-sergeant.'

They were moving too swiftly for a long reply, so Praxor merely nodded. Still the necron phalanxes weren't moving, content to hold and defend while their ponderous war engine got into position. If the monolith managed to open up its power matrix in a singular beam-pulse, the plan was finished. Broken off from its phalanx, the machine was fairly isolated but attacking such a thing beggared belief.

'Stay on me! Move as one!' Daceus was keeping the line intact, marshalling the tactical squads into position so they could prosecute Sicarius's plan.

They deviated far from the roadway, which was now wholly occupied by the Devastators and Dreadnoughts. The necrons' reaction to the barrage was feeding more mechanoids into the grinder. Their supplies were endless, their sense of self-preservation obsolete, despite the strange cries that came from each mechanoid as it was struck down. Phase-outs were happening constantly but just as many of the creatures self-repaired and returned to the fight.

The Ultramarines couldn't win by sheer weight of arms they didn't have enough battle-brothers.

'Any eyes on the command node, yet?' Daceus had drawn them to halt, out of the firing line and approaching the flank of a necron phalanx exchanging fire with the s.p.a.ce Marine heavy guns. The storm was so thick now, they could only see through their retinal senses or magnoculars.

Solinus was at the scopes, scanning the silver horde. 'Nothing from here.'

On the opposite side, Praxor also returned a negative.

'We need to get into them, force their hand,' said Daceus. He opened the feed. 'All heavies advance and resume fire.'

Praxor watched the line move up through the fog. Agrippen and Ultracius anch.o.r.ed it with Tirian and Atavian's Devastators in the middle. The necron casualties intensified. And with slow inevitability they started to shift.

Daceus grinned ferally, 'That's it, you xenos sc.u.m...'

But the attack would still be stalled if the monolith couldn't be destroyed, and without Sicarius they would have little chance of eliminating a necron overlord.

Praxor looked to the looming pyramid. Its capacitors were wreathed with emerald lightning, preparing to fire. It would need to be soon.

'Keep low, brother.' Gauss-beams flashed overhead, forcing Sicarius into a stooping run.

Gaius Prabian kept his combat shield up and close to his body. Several blasts had already skimmed off its surface.

The power armour of both Ultramarines was pitted and scored from where they'd run the necron gauntlet. Ahead, the shadow of the monolith finally reached them.

It was immense, a horrifying testament to the mechanoids' power. In truth, Sicarius believed the necrons to be much more than mere robots. They were something else entirely. Something ancient.

Although Arcona City had been pummelled into dust during the necron invasion, some ruined structures were still standing. Using the fog to cover their movements, the two Ultramarines skirted around to the monolith's flank. Its gauss-arc projectors were patrolling the immediate vicinity but looked incapable of firing whilst the machine was feeding energy to its crystal power matrix. Close up they got a chance to see the shimmering unreality of the monolith's surface and the eldritch sigils engraved upon it. Truly, this was an engine of evil.

Sicarius noticed the crystal at the pyramid's summit start to glow brighter as the capacitors fed it power from their lightning field. Its power matrix was coming on-line.

A small retinue of raider constructs protected the monolith, moving in step with it, their weapons ready but not yet firing. In his time as a warrior of Ultramar, Sicarius had prosecuted many tank ambushes. An armoured column was a fearsome force in battle; its guns were powerful and its resilience potent against all but the heaviest weapons. But it was also relatively slow and c.u.mbersome. Surgical strikes by squads bearing armour-busting grenades were deadly to tank formations. This monolith was no tank, and Sicarius suspected its strange surface would be resistant to most weapons, but he was determined to at least neutralise if not destroy it utterly.

A commando move such as the one he was about to attempt didn't exactly follow the strictures of the Codex but then Sicarius had his own way of interpreting Guilliman's writings. He hoped the primarch would approve of his ingenuity and bravura.

'Champion,' he said, resting a hand on Gaius's shoulder guard as they crouched in the ruins and peered out at the pa.s.sing monolith, 'you are my unsheathed sword.'

Gaius nodded slowly, his eyes on the raiders. There were only five of them. He ignited the blade of his power sword and it hummed hungrily.

Before he let him go, Sicarius added, 'Beware that portal at the front. Only Hera knows where it might lead you. Courage and honour.'

Gaius growled back through the vox-grille of his ornate helm. 'Courage and honour, my lord.'

The two then split apart, Sicarius headed around what appeared to be the rear of the monolith and Gaius engaging from the front.

The Champion vaulted the ruins and cried, 'For Ultramar!'

Turning as one, the raider screen opened fire with their gauss-weapons. Gaius Prabian was an experienced warrior. As Champion he had slain countless warlords, alien potentates and demagogues. Before d.a.m.nos, he had never engaged necrons. Held in an aggressive gladiatorial position, his combat shield absorbed much of the mechanoids' fire and enabled him to run and defend at the same time. Several beams lanced his shoulder guard and greaves, but he ignored the damage runes flashing on his retinal display. Perhaps realising hand-to-hand combat was inevitable, the closest of the raiders stopped firing. Instead, it brandished its gauss-flayer like a club, intending to cut the Ultramarines Champion apart with its barrel-blade.

Gaius's shield broke skeletal teeth and snapped the necron's corded neck as he thrust it into the creature's face. The head was hanging by a piece of cabling at an odd angle when the mechanoid crumpled. A second creature Gaius cut down with his power sword, slicing through weapon barrel and then the necron itself. The wound was catastrophic and it phased out. The third and fourth were dispatched by fierce sweeps of his blade the air hummed and crackled as the weapon bisected it. The fifth he battered with the shield. He was a force of will, a deadly guardian intent on his mission. All three necrons phased out. He stalked over to the last, the one he'd injured but not quite enough. Already, the necron's broken neck was repairing itself. Gaius slammed the edge of his shield against the cabling that was holding the mechanoid's head to its body, severing it.

'Stay dead,' he spat, and the last of the retinue phased out...

...Only to return, or so it appeared, through the portal five more raider constructs, carbon copies of the first. They moved slowly, resolving first as dark shadows in the pooling emerald light, then as actual beings of metal and hate.

Gaius Prabian faced them down and, touching the blade of his power weapon to his forehead, saluted.

No, he had never fought necrons before. It was to be a challenge.

'I am the unsheathed sword,' he vowed, and charged.

A battle tank had flanks, it had hatches and tracks, it possessed weak points and was forged of metal in a foundry this monolith was something else. It had no aspects, save perhaps the front and that was only because the emerald portal suggested it together with the direction it moved in. The flanks or rear were merely faces of the pyramid, constructed of some dark pseudo-metal, a substance that didn't appear entirely corporeal or, at least, constant. Looking carefully, Sicarius could see the sides of the monolith rippled, their hue changing in the light like oil upon water. He wasn't even certain that an explosive charge could be attached to its surface, let alone destroy it. Priming a melta bomb, he eyed the gauss-arc projectors. The cannons protruding from the machine swivelled and turned to draw a bead on him and Gaius Prabian but they were powerless as a defensive measure whilst all the monolith's energy was being used to unleash the crystal power matrix.

That situation wouldn't last. Sicarius slammed the first charge against the flank of the machine. It took hold and stuck there. Then he attached another. And another. He planted four melta bombs in total, all of his and Daceus's supply.

A pulse rippled down the side of the monolith as they went off, expelling intense microwaves that the machine seemed to absorb and nullify. Ordinary metal would slough and corrode against a melta bomb, but the material comprising the monolith was much more resistant.

Despite its alien resilience, the combined explosive fury of Sicarius's melta bombs would not be denied and the captain shouted his approval as something in the machine died and it floated slowly to the ground. At its peak, the crystal faded as the charging of the power matrix was forcibly aborted.

'Brother Gaius,' Sicarius ran around to the front of the machine in time to see his Champion destroying the last of the retinue. Even the emerald portal was dormant, revealing bare metal behind it. With its structural integrity damaged, the necron monolith became nothing more than a monument, inert and powerless. At least for now.

'Should we enter?' Gaius pointed his sword at the area where the portal had been. It seemed he intended on cutting their way inside.

'No. We return to the others. We don't know how long the war machine will be offline. Let's make the most of it.'

Mission achieved, they headed back to the line.

Behind his battle-helm Sicarius smiled. Perhaps there was glory to be had on d.a.m.nos after all.

Sicarius's return was heralded with restrained joy. There was no time for celebration. The Devastators and Dreadnoughts were taking a lot of fire. With the monolith neutralised, at least for a time, the others had to press the attack from the flank and cut into the necron horde.

The captain of Second Company lifted his Tempest Blade into the air as the mechanoids advanced into a position where the edge of their formation was exposed.

'There is still no sign of the command node,' Daceus warned.

Sicarius was not about to be denied. 'We can wait no longer.' He slashed his sword down. 'Ultramarines, attack!'

It was infectious. Praxor felt the groundswell of strength and righteous anger first in his feet, then his legs until it infused his entire body. Sicarius was the source of that power, he was certain of it. In his presence, it was as if a halo of inner fort.i.tude surrounded them and made them capable of the deeds of legend.

'I am my captain's sword!' he swore, power sword tearing open the first necron in his path even as his bolt pistol shattered a second. All of his doubts, his notions of Sicarius's vainglory, were banished from his mind in that single attack. In their place came an utter certainty that they would triumph; that Cato Sicarius would lead them to glory.

He had never fought harder, neither had the warriors around him. Together with the Lions of Macragge, the Shieldbearers and the Indomitable ripped into the necron flank and sundered it. They were several ranks deep, mechanised limbs and appendages tossed like metal refuse, before the Ultramarines slowed.

'Come to me,' he heard Sicarius rage at the heart of the battle. 'Face me now!'

The captain searched the silver horde for the command node but still it would not present itself. Row upon row of endless necron warriors did instead. The Tempest Blade was reaping a heavy tally, but it could not slay them all. Even the mighty Cato Sicarius could not achieve that feat.

Praxor glanced behind him. They were slowly being surrounded. Even now, some of his warriors had formed a rearguard with battle-brothers from Solinus's squad. In a matter of moments, they would be enveloped.

Trajan was at the front with the Lions, spitting curses and litanies. He would never surrender he was, in every way, Sicarius's Chaplain. But it occurred to Praxor that there was now a certain futility to this plan. Without sight of the necron overlord the Ultramarines were effectively attacking an infinite production line of necrons. In that, there could be no victory.

In the end, it was Solinus that was the first to break.

'We should retreat,' he said, defending against a flurry of attacks before replying with one of his own. 'There is no glory in this, for d.a.m.nos or the Second.'

Smashing necrons with his crozius, Trajan was quick to silence him. 'Hold to your purpose and the orders of your captain. Fight for the glory of Ul'

A necron blade in his gorget cut the diatribe short. Trajan blasted the creature with his bolt pistol, before dismembering it with his crozius, but could not remove the metal wedged in his neck armour.

The circle of Ultramarines was getting tighter. They were back-to-back now, their gallant charge stalled by the sheer amount of resistance facing them.

Sicarius turned to Daceus. 'Signal the other squads, close and concentrate fire on this part of the line.'

'Our brothers might be hit also, lord,' suggested Venatio. The Apothecary was holding his own, as gifted a warrior as any of the Lions.

Sicarius was quick to counter. 'It's worth the risk. Daceus, give the order.'

'Should I order the Dreadnoughts to engage, also?' came the veteran's gruff reply.

'Negative, they won't reach us in time.' Sicarius sounded angry. 'This isn't working. We're disengaging.' It wasn't an easy decision but the captain of Second didn't like lost causes, nor did he like admitting to them. He opened up the comm-feed to the flanking force. 'Cut a hole through them. Fall back.'

Despite his daring actions that neutralised the monolith, despite goading the necron horde into being outflanked, despite everything the plan had failed. Sicarius needed something to strike; something to attack and kill that might make a difference. He could not do that slaying endless hordes of mechanoid warriors. Though it was difficult to admit, he had underestimated the necrons and their forces. He resolved not to do so again. He needed greater numbers.

Victory was possible; he felt it in his heart. It could be won at the tip of his Tempest Blade, but for now it eluded him.

Cutting his way back through the necron ranks, one hand dragging an injured Brother Samnite of the Lions, an unpleasant taste filled Sicarius's mouth. It was at once acerbic and unfamiliar.

It was defeat.