V2 Chapter 132: [Augustus]
For Anderson, this was probably the most straightforward engagement he had experienced since Farrak IV.
At least so far.
He had seen an Ork Waaagh! charge, seen Tyranid swarms break over a position like a tide, seen Warp daemons tear human bodies apart in realspace. He had seen cultists who did not fear death, and Bane Engines that crushed entire formations under a single step.
By comparison, the opposition inside this cruiser was considerably more manageable.
Several minutes earlier, the boarding torpedoes had struck the flank of Delavere's flagship successfully. Melta-cutting rings burned through the outer armour layer. The heavy hull plating collapsed inward under the white heat. The torpedo hatch blew open.
When the Second Assault Infantry Regiment poured out of the torpedo tubes, the alarms were already sounding in the narrow corridors.
The vessel's armed naval ratings established their first defensive line quickly. Automated gun servitors descended from ceiling mounts on both sides. Defence servitors hauled heavy weapons into firing positions. Armoured blast doors began sealing in layers.
Anderson did not give them much time.
"Push straight through."
Four words. That was all.
The Second Assault Infantry Regiment veterans drove forward immediately. Meltaguns and frag charges opened up, dismantling the enemy's defensive positions one at a time.
Physical conditioning. Reaction speed. Seamless coordination. They moved through the resistance with something close to contempt, advancing over the bodies of the defenders.
The opposition had clearly not anticipated that Astra Militarum infantry could push this fast inside a vessel.
Anderson walked forward through the scatter of spent casings and shattered armour plating, his thunder hammer hanging at his side. He did not rush to the front. He adjusted formations continuously, keeping the Second Assault Infantry Regiment grinding through every corridor.
The presence of the Black Shield squad accelerated the collapse of enemy morale considerably.
Thirteen Black Shields pushed through a parallel corridor. They moved faster than the Second Assault Infantry Regiment and more directly.
The naval ratings who got in their way found no time to form any effective defensive position. Armoured blast doors were burned open by meltaguns. Heavy isolation hatches were torn apart by power fists and breaching charges.
One of Heldane's Inquisitorial retinue groups attempted to hold the side passage leading to the bridge. They were well equipped. They had even placed psychic suppression runes and blocking devices along the approach.
They were facing thirteen Shadow Wolves of Luna.
Markus was at the front, storm shield braced against the incoming bolt rounds, the bolt pistol in his other hand firing continuously. Several seconds later, nothing remained in that side passage except bodies and destroyed blocking devices.
The upper command deck leading to the bridge was breached in under an hour. The Second Assault Infantry Regiment secured the communications nodes, data compartments, and several key blast doors. The Inquisitorial Storm Troopers, working alongside the vessel's technical personnel, locked down the command links.
Just as Anderson reached the final defensive line, the Storm Troopers sent a new report.
"Heldane is not on the bridge."
Anderson stopped.
"Say again."
"Inquisitor Heldane has left the bridge area. We have located an Inquisitorial authority access corridor that was opened recently, leading to the reserve landing craft bay. Part of the access record was erased, but the timestamps are recent."
Anderson's brow came together.
"Direction?"
"The planet surface."
Anderson looked at Markus beside him.
Markus's helmet turned toward the bridge.
"Take Delavere first."
Anderson gave a nod.
"Keep moving."
The final adamantium auto-door sealing the command bridge had been locked down. Through it came the sounds of confused orders and weapons being readied. The people inside were clearly planning one last stand.
Anderson did not knock.
Two melta operators stepped forward and pressed their gun barrels against the door surface. The intense heat spread across the adamantium facing. The metal began to glow, then collapsed inward into a searing gap.
The breaching team followed up with explosives.
A short, sharp detonation and the gap was torn wider.
Anderson's broad figure in force-feedback power armour stepped through the gap that was still radiating heat. Behind him came the thirteen Black Shields, taller still. Behind them came the black carapace-armoured soldiers pouring in.
The bridge officers went silent almost instantly.
Only a handful continued to shout.
"You are attacking an Imperial flagship!"
"This is mutiny!"
"You will be court martialled for this!"
Anderson looked at them through his helmet and felt no particular anger, only something that came closer to a measure of respect. At least these people still knew their duty. That was more than could be said for what had brought this situation about. They were genuine Imperial officers.
But the next moment, at his order, the Second Assault Infantry Regiment soldiers had moved to restrain all of them. Weapons were confiscated. Communications stations were sealed. The bridge's primary command authority was transferred to the Inquisitorial Storm Troopers.
Anderson removed his helmet and walked toward the heavyset man standing in front of the command throne.
General Delavere had not sat down.
His uniform was somewhat dishevelled. His colour was dark. But he was still making an effort to hold the dignity of an Admiral. He looked at Anderson with fury and humiliation in equal measure.
Anderson stopped in front of him.
"General Delavere. My Commissar is requesting that you order a cessation of hostilities and surrender the individuals responsible for starting this engagement."
Delavere turned his head to one side and produced a cold sound.
He did not speak.
Anderson waited two seconds, then exhaled.
"I expected it wouldn't be that straightforward."
He pulled the bolt pistol from his hip, chambered a round single-handed, and pressed the muzzle directly against Delavere's temple.
Someone on the bridge drew a sharp breath.
Anderson's expression did not change.
"General. You can give the ceasefire order with your dignity intact. Or you can allow the Storm Troopers to process your authorisation seal and voiceprint themselves."
Delavere's jaw tightened.
"You would shoot me?"
"I would rather not." Anderson said. "But there is an active engagement running. Every minute this continues is another minute Imperial soldiers die at the hands of other Imperial soldiers."
He pressed the barrel slightly more firmly against the temple.
"Your choice."
Delavere was silent for a long time.
At last, he raised his hand.
"Patch me through to the fleet-wide channel."
The Storm Trooper looked at Anderson.
Anderson gave a nod.
Delavere used his general's command code, voiceprint, and fleet authorisation seal to issue the ceasefire order. His voice went out through the flagship's communications array to every directly subordinate vessel and Fifth Army Corps regular force formation.
"This is General Delavere. All vessels cease active offensive operations and hold defensive posture. Fifth Army Corps regular forces are to halt all advance against Duvette-attached formations immediately and await further orders."
He paused, his expression worse than it had been.
"Repeat. Cease active offensive operations."
As the order went through, the sounds of the engagement seemed to recede slightly from wherever they had been.
On the Resolute, Duvette received the report that the flagship had been taken shortly afterward.
"Anderson has taken Delavere alive." Evan said. "Delavere used general's authority to issue the ceasefire. Most fleet units are reducing fire control status."
Duvette glanced at the time.
"Forty-nine minutes and thirty-two seconds."
He turned to Villent and shrugged.
Villent was quiet for a moment, looking at him with an expression that was difficult to classify.
"I continue to underestimate you and your forces."
Duvette clapped him on the shoulder.
"There will be more surprises."
Villent's jaw moved slightly. He did not reply.
Duvette turned to Evan.
"Prepare a shuttle. I am going to Delavere's flagship myself."
Evan gave an immediate nod.
"An escort?"
"Not necessary. Have them clear a corridor on that end." Duvette waved it off. "Anderson has already opened the door. Now it is time for a conversation."
He looked at the hololithic star chart.
Delavere's flagship had stopped advancing. The escort vessels around it were reducing their fire control status. Part of the Fifth Army Corps ground forces had received the order and halted in place, but several surface signals were still not responding.
Duvette knew that capturing Delavere alone was not sufficient.
This pointless conflict had to be concluded entirely. Delavere also had to understand that the Men of Iron STC was not a prize that would elevate him to a higher position within the crusade's command structure.
The thing had been exposed to Chaos corruption.
Anyone who made contact with it carelessly would bring destruction down on the entire crusade.
Duvette closed his eyes and opened the System panel. He did not hesitate. Fifteen hundred Emperor's Wrath was consumed in an instant.
A new skill took shape in the depths of his awareness.
[Augustus]
[Passive Aura: Your personal authority will be substantially enhanced. Others will place considerably more trust in your words. Your presence and conduct will more readily persuade those of lesser will and earn the recognition of those of greater standing.]
[Follow me. Believe in me. I will lead you to eternal victory.]
Duvette opened his eyes. He could feel something settle across him, a kind of presence that was difficult to look past.
The words he spoke would land more readily.
The judgements he delivered would be believed more easily.
What he was about to face was a defeated Imperial general who was furious and humiliated in equal measure.
Duvette straightened his uniform and walked toward the bridge exit.
"Time to let Delavere know who he lost to." He said.