Author Notes:
This GSS chapter took way longer to come out of the oven than I expected. Welp, goes to say it's about time I write less chill chapters, and more of kicking it into the next level chapters, soon-ish. Up and down. Up and down. Rinse and repeat.
That's how pacing works.
Anyway, I hope you all will enjoy this late chapter. If you're interest in Early Access, you can join the ranks in my Patreon, which is running a discount, currently.
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"Sorcerers..." Mama Elyzabeth comments with a near spiteful tone.
And it may be my imagination, but I am pretty sure the handle of Mama's Power Sword is groaning in protest of her emotionally charged grip. Not that I can blame her for reacting like that. In fact, I admire Mama's self-control and not cursing out the whole nine generations of our enemies. After all, I was involved in a truly dangerous ambush in her eyes. To others not in the know, I am still a mortal who just went up against foul machinations and trickeries of the Warp.
Currently, all detachments have regrouped after destroying our respective cogitator arrays. And we are making our way back to our vehicles outside, carrying with us our wounded. Aside from our Recon unit, the others didn't come across warp-in Ogryns. This knowledge, understandably, isn't taken kindly by Tu'shan and Mama, who judge that the enemy must have been trying to eliminate the seemingly weakest link, which is the less numerous Recon unit. Having taken only one critically wounded casualty from that sudden engagement is seen as a miracle and a half by them.
According to the two-shot callers around, had Recon unit truly been incapacitated back then, it would have forced the other two detachments to waste precious time trying to reinforce us. A notion that would incur more hostile responses, some of which we may not be well-equipped to tackle, given that the existence of Chaos Sorcerers is very likely, if not confirmed. At worst, the Salamanders and Order of Our Martyred Ladies may come out a little worse for wear, but the Cadian 8th accompanying them are at risk of being wiped out.
Due to the grim potentiality, even Tsavorae has a grim aura around her. She doesn't need to say it, but I know that she must have felt responsible, somehow, for not being there in my supposed brush with death. Thanks to Tu'rok's and Weiss' testimonies, I am taking the time to mentally prepare myself for an eventual earful from the women in my life of interest. When that moment will come, however, is still up in the air.
Vel'cona, pulling from his experience in the sanctioned mystic arts, adds as the entire unit marches with warying steps.
"Corrupted Ogryns aren't rare encounters. Yet, for them to be teleported in numbers suggests either a highly proficient and powerful Sorcerer or multiple Sorcerers working in tandem. For them to only make a move now means they must have an agenda to achieve."
"It all boils down to time, brother." Tu'shan says. "Had they succeeded in their intervention, it would have brought them all the opportunities they needed to concoct their nefarious spells and schemes. We may be looking at not just a minor incursion, but an actual attempt at making an invasion beachhead."
Tu'shan's words are met with serious consideration from all of the leaders. The subsequent stretch of corridors is conducted with little to no discussion among them all. It's only when our force moves near our breach point that Mama speaks up.
"I have already reported the information we acquired to the rest of the JTF. Dominus Cawl has also been notified. The Iron Revenant and our voidships are moving to support us as we speak. Their Augur arrays will scour for what we can't see."
Ah, no wonder the silent existed, Mama, and probably the others have been speaking or listening on an encrypted Vox link, probably a private line to our familiar Archamagos Dominus and Colonel Mustahim. Understandable, really, something isn't meant to be heard by the lower ranks, at least not now.
Tu'shan nods. "Our priority now is to rendezvous with our relief force. Vel'cona, have you sensed something ominous thus far?"
"Negative, brother. They are hiding deep, but they can still be tracking us via non-physical means." Suddenly, Vel'cona addresses me, who walks slightly behind the head honchos of our force. "Corporal Ein, perhaps your instinct can shed some light on the matter?"
It's a bit odd to feel Mama, Tu'shan, and Tu'rok, all spare their attention towards me, while they aren't directly looking at me. I pick my words before replying.
"Perhaps they have been very careful with their gazes, but I am not feeling any restlessness, at least not yet, Lord Vel'cona." I stop before adding. "Magos Hedagine has disabled the Observation room, for good. If they are still able to see us now, then it must be, as you said, that they're using non-physical means, which can elude the detection methods we have available."
"All the more imperative that we reorganize and reequip ourselves. What comes next may not be pretty, for I only know of one group of foes that made heavy use of Sorcerers that put a heavy emphasis on the color blue." Mama interjects with a grave tone. "They already know that we are coming. I am expecting a harsh fight up ahead. But..."
"It's been some time since the Order of Our Martyred Lady has last seen a proper challenge." Mama's words hang in the air as we all step into the breach point's defense line.
The defense line is messy in all the expected ways, with corpses and blood lying before and on the rows of barricades and obstructions our allies constructed. Behind them, we can see the battered, but still stalwart mixed force of Cadians, Sisters of Battle, and Salamanders. Beneath their feet rest spent casings, grenade pins, and drained power packs left behind by either the deaths or the injured. In the center of the defensive fortifications, there are mortal troops who are resting, having been rotated out of their shift by others. At one semi-enclosed corner of the defense line is a crowded triage station set up by the medics, Apothecaries, and Sister Hospitallers. Casualties have been high not just for the cultists but also for our allies here, who have been holding the fort for our return.
"Hold fire! Hold fire! Friendlies incoming!" From where we are, we can hear the shout of a Cadian officer. "Quick, move that barricade!"
Soon afterward, a group of Guardsmen moves to open a gap in the fortification to receive us. Once we are all through, the hole in the defense line is resealed by pushing over a half-destroyed rectangular slab of rockcrete before affixing it in place by two wooden struts so it doesn't keel over, all of which seemingly were salvaged from things around us.
We Cadians are resourceful, if nothing else.
A group of Sister Hospitallers and medics soon rushes to our position behind the barricades.
"Lady Canoness Superior, Lord Tu'shan, and Lord Vel'cona, allow us to receive your wounded." One of the Sister Hospitallers even bows in their direction.
And when nods are given, the aid givers move to carry our wounded away. I watch as Sergeant Johnson accosts one of the medics who is tasked with taking care of our wounded Platoon mate, Drake.
"He got hit badly in the lower abdomen by a Ripper Gun. We gave him what we could, but there must be something we missed inside of him..."
Yeah, that's a dreary topic, alright. As Johnson and our Platoon medic communicate with the others about Drake's status, I see Mama and the other leaders exchange information with the commanders of the defense force here. But...
"Huh? I don't see the Company Captain anywhere?" Weiss questions, having moved next to me now that we're technically at the rear line. Technically, as we are legit still behind enemy lines. Hmm, perhaps it will be more accurate to say that we're in the center of the protective circle, hence we can earn a breather?
Looking around, I wave to a nearby acquaintance in First Company, asking him.
"Yo, Justin! You see Captain Rogers anywhere?"
"The Cap? Girl, he took a nasty hit. The Command Chimera got launched halfway into the air by a plasma mortar shell or something. The Cap managed to delegate command to Lieutenant Kult before he went down under ever since. The Hospitallers are trying to patch him up still."
"Damn. Last I heard, he was still kicking ass." I comment with lowered brows.
"The Cap ain't one for rearline commanding, he's been out there the entire time. No wonder they single him out with artillery." Justin adds with a regretful nod. "While I hope the ballsy Cap make it, it's still a fine way to go, regardless."
"Yeah... Thanks for the info, Justin. Keep our six clear, alright?" I shoot the man a thumbs-up. "I don't wanna run back out here anytime soon."
"Hah! What use are we anymore if we have to let 3rd Platoon do even this job? Be seeing you, Corporal."
Giving the man a parting nod, I then turn back to face Weiss and the rest of 3rd Platoon. "And there you have it, boys and girls, First Company is down a Captain."
"Crud." Scorpin comments as she spares a glance at the triage center, where Drake and Captain Rogers, now reside. "Now I suddenly feel that we're the lucky ones, seeing how cramped that medical tent already is."
Johnson, after moving away from the medics, joins us. "First Company being indisposed of its Captain ain't new. Per usual, report to Lieutenant Kult if needed; she knows how to run the show on the Captain's behalf."
Weiss raises an eyebrow. "Huh? You're speaking as if Captain Rogers being critically injured is but another Tuesday for our Company."
I giggle before patting Weiss on her shoulder.
"Rookie, you have no idea how many Wounded Badges the Company Captain has in his medal boxes. The man denies Death many times, each leaving him worse for wear, but he's still kicking ass around these parts. Don't be surprised if he comes out of triage with nothing but a third-degree burn."
"... Huh?" Weiss lets out a dumb exclamation.
The others laugh at her understandable reaction. Johnson goes on to say.
"Don't worry, Rookie. There are many other tales and legends to be told by the 8th Regiment. Each will leave you questioning life itself. Buhahaha!"
Much to Weiss' relief, our banter is put to a close when Mama announces in the middle of the group of leaders and officers.
"All units, prep for extraction. We're going to leave this place."
And then comes a flurry of actions all around us, the previously resting Guards move to secure the equipment around them, and the gears of others who are maintaining a close watch on the surrounding perimeter.
"3rd Platoon!" Our Vox link comes alive as the voice of someone we identify as Lieutenant Kult can be heard. "I need you outside, ASAP!"
"That's our cue, boys and girls. Let's roll." Johnson gestures to the outside with a tilt of his head.
We gather ourselves for one more trip into the zone, passing by our leaders in the process. 3rd Platoon gives them all nods and salutes, while I take it a step further and energetically wave at them all. My gaze lingers on Mama and Tsavorae before giving the pair a wink.
Is that gonna help me later? Probably not. Do I dare hope? Of course.
Outside, we come across layers of steel that are smoking in places. Here and there, we see armored vehicles that have taken a lot of punishment. More than scratches on the paint job, a few vehicles are destroyed or crippled, with no combat ability. I count at least two Freya Russes that can be deemed unserviceable, and at least a Platoon of Chimeras put out of action. They act as nothing more than stationary covers now. Vehicles used by the Salamanders and Sisters of Battle are much sturdier, so while they may incur battle damage, I don't see any that can be written out.
But I will leave the finer details to the numerous Techmarines and Tech-priests around. They have been instrumental in keeping our rides outside the enemy HQ in service, it would seem.
Suddenly, I sense something coming down from above. I look up to see the smoky atmosphere being torn apart by the tell-tale shockwave of orbital drop pods, and a lot of them at that. Accompanying the drop pods are missiles and warplanes, employed by our fleet in the void to pave the way for the next wave of attack and reinforcement. Although its sensor arrays are out of whack due to our actions, Installation 08 still wages a desperate blanket of anti-air and anti-orbital fire to little to no visible effect. Most of the flak rounds end up missing due to insufficient detection equipment, and there aren't enough missiles to go around to intercept the incoming airborne assault. Some of the anti-orbital gun emplacements, with destroyed computational and detection equipment, are unable to detect the massive voidships from above, much less calculate a firing solution.
The more desperate the cultists are in firing their weapons, the more visible they are from above. These anti-air sites, more often than not, are immediately suppressed by Marauder Bombers using a variety of weapons. Forcing the one spirited, if not frantic net of firepower, to immediately loosen up even more, posing even less of a threat to a coordinated air assault.
The traitors of Installation 08 can only watch in helplessness as the Salamanders land in droves across the coastal fortress with impunity. They are not the only force to send a massive wave of reinforcement, however, as aircraft of the Aeronautica Imperialis ferry even more troops to all other areas of operation now that total air superiority is achieved. I watch as some of the aircraft split from one of the large formations and fly toward us.
"3rd Platoon! Over here!" We are hollered over by an officer before any of us can comment on the changing battlefield situation.
Johnson leads the way and salutes. "Lieutenant Kult. Once more at the helm of this boat, huh? The Whiteshields still giving trouble?"
"Always." The female Lieutenant with an eyepatch replies with a huff. "They got the grit, but it takes more than that to formally join the 8th."
Johnson then looked around, seeing a small number of Whiteshields fighting alongside the Regulars. Given the dangerous nature of this decapacitation operation, only the battle-tested troops are deployed. These Whiteshields must have real talents to be assigned to this endeavor and still be kicking butts.
"Well, I don't know about you, but they do seem to possess that flame that is in all of us." Johnson makes a comment about the now battle-hardened Whiteshiels before shaking his head. "Whatcha need of us anyway, Lieutenant?"
Lieutenant Kult puts her hands on her hips, gesturing with her head to a smoking Chimera IFV.
"Second Platoon was unlucky enough to have all of their rides either knocked out or mobility killed. They ain't going anywhere. So you, Frogger 4-1 and 4-2 will be reassigned to ferry them out during evac."
Johnson raises an eyebrow, faking horror. "Surely you ain't expecting us to run all the way back? We literally just did a marathon, back in there!"
Rolling her one good eye, Lieutenant Kult replies. "You Froggers should feel lucky that someone else will be picking you up instead."
A gust of wind sweeps over us as multiple VTOLs circle overhead in search of a landing zone now that there's no hostile contact to be seen within a kilometer radius. Lieutenant Kult gestures at the Valkyries that are coming in for a touchdown.
"Those are your rides, Froggers! And I expect you all to provide overwatch for the ground force as we extract out of the AO!" She shouts over the strong gusts of wind, dust, and engine noises. "Corporal Ein, make me proud, and put your marksmanship to good use! I have one of the aircrew grab you a Long-las, will that be an issue?"
"No, ma'am! I can work with that!"
"Good! Wheels up immediately upon boarding, Froggers! We're on a tight schedule here!" Lieutenant Kult says just before the Valkyries land.
Right afterward, a familiar voice can be heard.
"Yahello~! This is Roughneck 1-2, Yang, reporting in! Roughneck Section is back to give our favorite boys and girls a swift ride outta here!" That blonde is as spirited as before.
"Roughneck 1-2, this is 1-1. Our task involves more than just a speedy flight out of the danger zone, so tone down that speed devil attitude of yours. Froggers, although it's only been a shortwhile, it's good to see you all." And that's my favorite Felinid speaking.
Nodding at Lieutenant Kult first before turning to lead us to the Valkyries, Sergeant Johnson greets the pilots as we walk.
"It's good to see you all, too! Lads and lassies, I believe we're in good hands."
"Thanks for the compliment, Sergeant." Blake replies with a grateful tone before continuing to say. "Corporal Ein, I believe we are to give you a Long-las. It's in a container in the back of my Valkyrie. As for the others, we got some additional power packs and grenades stored."
"Understood. Thanks for the trouble, Second Lieutenant." I say with a smile.
"Don't sweat it, Corporal. Working with you has been an interesting experience." I can feel Blake sporting a small grin as she says that.
Once we get to the aircraft, Johnson splits 3rd Platoon into two.
"Alright, I know that we're down three members, but things stay the same as last time. Frogger 2 will ride with Frogger 3. Since this is gonna be 3rd Platoon riding shotguns, keep your eyes peeled for any threat that may harm either our friends on the ground or us in the air. I don't want to see a burning coffin anywhere. Are we clear, boys and girls?"
"Crystal, Sarge!" We all snap to attention at the question.
"Good. Now mount up! I have had enough of walking!" Johnson swings his arm at the Valkyries before we all walk up the ramps in two columns.
Just like before, Weiss and I set up a VTOL-born sniper harness inside Blake's Valkyrie. Only this time, Scorpin's Squad takes control of the door-mounted Heavy Bolters instead of my Rookie, leaving Weiss free to act as my spotter and additional gunner.
Seconds later, while some of us are still resupplying, and I have just exchanged Black Steel for the Long-las, Johnson gives the green signal to Roughneck Section.
"Roughneck, this is Frogger Actual. All are aboard, and we're good for takeoff."
"Roger that, Frogger Actual. All units on this net, Roughneck Section is taking off, carrying with us members of 3rd Platoon, First Company of the Cadian 8th. Be careful of the airblast as we take off." Blake's voice can be heard announcing our departure from ground level.
As I brace my Long-las on the sniper harness, I hear Blake speak into the intercom. "Just like last time, Ein. I will fly her in a clockwise manner for the most part."
"Roger that, Blake." I reply before taking the opportunity to adjust my scope as we take to the sky, readying myself to safeguard the assembling extraction convoy below.
Huh. We can't seem to catch a break, can we?