Home Fires – Chapter Thirty-Six: Reunions
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Antonius’ sword made a thrumming sound as he sliced another Ork in two. Behind him, a crunch was audible as Chaplain Hakan’s Crozius Arcanum pulped another. The odd tone of Sandeep’s Volkite pistol sang out as it’s crimson energies blasted into several charging Orks. A dragon made of flickering blue fire joined it, conjured from the fingertips of Ory-Hara. Around them, the last survivors of the 4th Company made their stand; protecting the spaceport at all costs.
Antonius had lost count of the hours that passed since the hopeful transmission promising their salvation. Almost no one had ammunition left. The Azure Flames were using knives, fists, even rocks thrown in desperation. The Orks showed no sign of slowing their advance. Pontormo’s Gene-seed repository was overfull, and his white armour was red with the blood of Brothers he had salvaged. Somehow, Petrus still had rounds for his Bolt Pistol as he held the tattered but defiant banner high. In the distance, another mass of Orks sighted them and howled their foul warcry as they charged. Antonius steeled himself…
An imposing blue form barreled into them. Its right arm blazing with white-hot plasma as its left fist unleashed a torrent of fire from a spinning cannon mounted underneath.
Daenan.
He had fallen earlier in the conflict, but the famed duelist had refused to die. Interred in a mighty Redemptor Dreadnought, the former sergeant crashed into the oncoming Orks like a rogue wave. Antonius sighed in relief. How many minutes had that bought them?
Not many. More Orks approached from the south. These hadn’t seen them yet. They were too engrossed with the sight of their comrades fighting Daenan. Antonius motioned for the defenders to take positions behind a smoking ruin. Once the orks charged, they would counter charge behind them. With luck…
“Hey, Peasant. Where are you?” An unhinged voice broke over the vox.
“Rich kid?” Antonius shouted with glee. There was only one man who called Antonius a Peasant; Captain Leonidas of the 1st Company, the former scion of a planetary governor turned Astartes. Madness cackled through the vox in response.
“There you are! Get ready for some fun!” Leonidas sang. The datapad on Antonius’ forearm chirped. He opened it to find co-ordinates being laid in. His eyes teared in pure joy.
“Antonus to all surviving ground forces. Hold all anti-aircraft fire and prepare for reinforcements!” he shouted into the vox.
Less than a minute later the gray sky was punctuated with brilliant orange plumes. The Steel Rain of Astartes Drop Pods.
Hundreds of them.
Cheers erupted from the defenders as the Orks stumbled to a halt in confusion. Pentagonal metal teardrops smoking with the heat of re-entry began ploughing into the crumbly plascrete of the city streets and ruined buildings. The five-beat tattoo of doors opening filled the air again and again as the pods burst open like malevolent flowers. Missiles streaked through the air from Deathwind pods, incinerating unaware Orks. Figures in the deep blue of the Azure Flames emerged from others, emptying bolt rounds into the enraged xenos.
Several pods came down near Antonius. From one, a bald man with an imposing spear, clad in armour of deep green emerged. Leonidas, defiant as ever, still wore the colours of The Sons of the Salamander, the previous moniker of the Azure Flames. Following him was the banner of the 1st Company, white and pristine. Leonidas made eye contact with Antonius and dashed towards him, awkwardly running with a gigantic flamer sheathed around his right arm.
“Peasant! You managed to survive! Good for you. You look terrible.”
“Shut up. Is that a Heavy Flamer meant for Terminator Armour?” Antonius asked, incredulously.
Leonidas’ face scrunched up in affront. “No one else was using it…”
“Of course…” Antonius said under his breath. Suddenly his eyes fell upon Leonidas’ spear, its tip red hot as if pulled from the forge and licking flames. Leonidas beheld Antonius’ flaming sword and the two of them looked up and spoke simultaneously:
“You increased the waveform!”
Both Captains broke out into laughter.
“Alright, enough chit-chat. Where are the Orks?” Leonidas said with predatory glee.
“Choose a direction, brother, and you’re sure to find them.” Antonius answered.
“HAH! Come on, everyone! It’s time for some FUN!” Leonidas shouted as he bounded back to his command squad.
It was only then that Antonius realized Leonidas and his Command Squad were wearing the new Mk X Tacticus armour…
“Leonidas, did you…” Antonius began, but he trailed off as the cackling madman bounded toward the Orks, spearing unwary xenos and setting others aflame with a grace that would be poetic if it weren’t haphazard.
***
The din of engines filled the air as a Thunderhawk touched down in the remnants of a park. The hatch at the fore opened and Antonius nearly dropped his sword in shock.
Captain Edgard of the 3rd Company strode out in a chunky suit of Gravis Armour with a brilliant red cape streaming behind him. His half-metallic face was painted with his customary scowl. At his side, a full complement of Aggressors, Eradicators, and Heavy Intercessors strode out of the mighty aircraft.
“Antonius.” Edgard croaked in his mechanical voice. “Good, I was worried you had been lost to us.” The mechanical whirs that usually accompanied Edgard’s movement were still audible, though softened by the thick armour.
“Edgard! I’m shocked there was enough of you to undergo the Rubicon procedure.”
“Always the comedian.” Edgard said with a half-organic smile. “Come, there are xenos to purge.”
“Wait, who else went through the Rubicon? Did we lose anyone?” Antonius said with concern.
“Later.” Edgard coughed. “It is time for battle.”
Antonius nodded once.
***
An Ork with a crackling field generator protruding from his back exploded in gore. Antonius hadn’t even heard where the shots had come from.
“Keep your eyes peeled, Lad.” A thick brogue intoned.
“Daniel?” Antonius shouted. “Where are you?
From the rubble and smoke of a ruin, Captain Daniel of the 10th Company emerged in a suit of Phobos armour complete with a colour-shifting camo-cloak. Around him, Eliminators and Scouts fanned out.
“You’re lucky we’re not Ork Kommandos, lad.” Daniel said. “What did I teach you about awareness?”
“Those who make their surroundings their own hold their enemies on their back foot.” Antonius recited.
Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. “Good lad! You’re as sharp as you were when I saved you from those Eldar.”
Antonius frowned. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Of course you will. I’ll die eventually. Now, I have some recon to do. There’s still that great beastie of a Gargant in the east. Go to it, lad.”
***
The Gargant, still smoking from newly torn holes, gleefully careened into the new threats that emerged from the Drop Pods. The trails of missiles and bright lines of las weaponry gashed its armour but still it came on. Antonius watched as it cleared a path for a swarm of Orks in its wake.
Then he saw it.
A single figure with a cape of yellow, standing before the titanic thing. It was Zhuang, Captain of the 2nd Company, clad in a brand new suit of Tacticus armour.
“ZHUANG!” Antonius shouted. “GET OUT OF THERE!”
The Gargant had seen Zhuang. It raised a giant cannon on its arm and leveled it at the defiant Captain.
Almost faster than he could see, a supersonic streak came from the sky, penetrating through the Gargant’s head and erupting with terrible orange-yellow fire.
Behind the Gargant, much the same thing played out among the Ork hordes. Dozens of Orks were blown apart by Bombardment Cannon shells from orbit. The ground itself was melted into magma that splattered through the enemy lines. The Ork advance scattered and fled. Antonius ran up to Zhuang, who had his trademark smirk plastered on his face.
“You took my kill.” Antonius said with a smile.
Zhuang barked a laugh. “Hah! Oh, brother, next time you should write your name on it. Besides, the final shot was courtesy of Piers. His Hammer II is directly above us.”
Antonius looked up but saw only the gray of the clouds. Piers seldom left the command throne of His Hammer II unless his 7th Company was needed. “I’ll take your word for it.”
***
Gray streaks of smoke filled the air beside bright red lines. All around, Ork Killa Kans and Deff Dreads exploded. Battlewagons came apart in pinwheels of fire. Orks charged out of the fray and directly towards a Command squad with a banner of blue. As Antonius ran to assist, he heard Captain Valerien of the 9th Company shouting prayers and profanities at the Orks in the language of his homeworld. No other Azure Flame spoke the arcane language that Valerien brought into battle, which Valerien proudly claimed had not changed in forty millennia. His signature Power Axe fell again and again as he shouted incomprehensibly.
Antonius carved through Orks on his way to Valerien. “Need some help?”
“Porquoi pas?” Valerien replied.
Antonius laughed. “Someday I’ll have to learn what the hell you’re saying.”
“La langue douce, she is fit only for men of refinement, Antonius.”
“Fine then, count me out.”
The two laughed as the Orks around them fell.
***
Antonius could only gape in awe as the sky seemed to fall on the Orks.
Dozens of blue clad marines fell upon a fortified block. The xenos were taken completely by surprise. Big gunz exploded one after the other. Clouds of terrified gretchin were mowed down by chainswords. Huge walkers came apart under precision plasma fire. Death from above.
Among it all, one man with a gray cape brought absolute destruction wherever he landed.
After the Orks had been shattered, Antonius found Khalil, Captain of the 8th Company, praying among the carnage.
“That was some fine work.” Antonius said.
“Antonius! My savior!” Khalil shouted, raising his chainsword in triumph.
“It looks like you’ve paid me back, and then some!” Antonius replied. “How is His Anvil?”
“This campaign is her shakedown cruise.” Khalil replied, referring to the newly refurbished Battle Barge. “It had to be overhauled deck by deck. We barely had enough time to get here.”
“Must have been hard work.”
“You have no idea. Now, I have more to do. Good hunting!” Khalil shouted as he bounded into the air on his jump pack.
***
Blue met green.
A vertiable tide of Orks filled Highway Primus. Opposite them, hundreds of Azure Flames fired bolt round after bolt round. Anchoring the center were two banners: one of black and one of orange. Infernus squads torched Orks that came close as whistling rockets broke apart larger formations. The huge highway was a charnel house of blood and flame.
Antonius caught up with Dakota of the 6th Company and Abiola of the 5th as the orks beat a hasty retreat. Abiola was a sight in an imposing set of Gravis armour with his jet black cape, while Dakota stood a kilter, his Tacticus suit weighed down by a massive Power Fist.
“Just in time, you two.” He said.
Abiola’s dark face split with a smile of bright ivory. “Antonius! You made it!”
A dour frown ruined the noble features of Dakota. “I wish we had been here sooner.”
The two companies were often deployed in tandem, and Antonius often thought it was so that Abiola’s infectious joy would compliment Dakota’s dour countenance.
“Regardless, you are here now, and I am grateful.”
Dakota grunted assent as Abiola charged forward and gave Antonius an aggressive bear hug. Antonius saw his vision gray as the bulky Gravis suit lifted him by his injured chest. Antonius landed swaying.
“That was not a good idea.” Dakota scolded.
“You say that about everything.” Abiola countered.
Dakota snorted. “Someone has to be the adult.”
“Enough, you two.” Antonius broke in. “Is Chapter Master Perseus about?”
“You’ll find him where the fighting is hottest!” Abiola shouted.
“Indeed.” Dakota added.
***
The fighting was hottest in the south.
All across the city the Azure Flames burned through the ranks of the Orks. They broke them. Scattered their lines. Drove them from strongholds and chokepoints.
The Orks fled.
South.
This is where they thought it was safe, territory won months ago stocked with reinforcements and ammunition.
This is where Chapter Master Perseus wiped them out.
The surviving Orks retreating south had been bloodied. Weakened. Some would say it was cowardice to challenge them in such a battered state.
Wiser people knew: a beast was at its most dangerous when it had nowhere to run.
The Orks, faced with a chapter of Space Marines on their heels, could not turn back. They fought with one thing on their minds: win or die. Thousands poured from the city directly at the Chapter Master and his compliment:
Fifty seasoned veterans in Terminator Armour, and the entire Dreadnought compliment of every company in the newest Redemptor, Brutalis, and Ballistus chassis.
The Azure Flames, for being such a young chapter, had an armoury with more suits of Terminator Armour than almost any other chapter that cared to compare. As they left the city, ragged bands balked and fell back, terrified of the sight of so much power. But, as these isolated groups banded together, they found solace in numbers. Orks feel their most confident when they are surrounded by their kin, and as the remnants of the WAAAAGH were driven before the rest of the chapter, they gathered for one last charge. When the bolters of their pursuers were too close to stay any longer, they came on screaming.
The ground shook.
The surviving Orks coated the plains. Their bellows rattled the sky. Seen from a distance, they were not an army; they were a storm.
Then came fire.
So densely packed, the Storm Bolters of the Azure Flames could not miss. Frag missiles popped into gray clouds that left pockets of the oncoming wave in bloody heaps. Assault Cannons mowed down bellowing lads until their barrels grew cherry red. Heavy Flamers poured bluish-white fire into the open-mouthed rage of the aliens.
Then the line shifted, almost like a magic trick from a skilled illusionist.
Shouldering the tide was a line of crackling shields which broke the wave. Hammers rang out as if they had struck anvils. Wicked claws coruscating with energy flashed out and tore handfuls of Orks apart. Through it all, the torrent of bolter fire did not slow. As Orks kept coming, they piled up. The wave had only been half expended and already the oncoming Orks were slogging up a noticeable pile of their own dead. They scrambled over their allies’ corpses only to make the pile higher as they took a bolt round or a thunder hammer to the face.
Dozens of times the green tide surged. Each time, the dark blue mass of the Azure Flames faltered, were pushed back, and then rebounded, leaving more Orks beneath their treads.
By the time the last of them realized that going forward was death, it was too late to flee. Bolter fire from behind raked into their backs. Like hammer and anvil, the Azure Flames hit the mass of Orks.
No greenskin left the field of battle.
Antonius saw all of this from a distance. It took only minutes. There, triumphant in the center of the formation, Chapter Master Perseus raised his massive sword Lightbringer in victory, the jagged points blazing in the sun. Antonius finally found his way to his Lord and fell to one knee.
Perseus gave one quick coughing laugh. “There’s no need for that, Captain.”
Antonius rose to his feet, seeing Perseus truly tower over him. Not just from the armour.
“Everyone?” Antonius said with equal parts awe and sorrow.
“What?” Perseus said, puzzled.
“You. Leonidas. The other Captains. The other companies. You all went through the Rubicon?”
Perseus sighed. “It was necessary.”
“How could such a drastic action be necessary?”
“You’ve been here alone, cut off from the greater Imperium. You don’t know. The galaxy is burning, Antonius.”
Antonius staggered. This was supposed to be a day of victory. To bear news so dire… “How bad is it?” he asked.
“Worse than I’ve ever seen.” Perseus hammered. “The Tyranids are resurgent. Necron forces have cordoned off a huge section of the galaxy. The forces of the Archenemy have new fleets headed by massive Space Hulks. Everywhere the Imperium is under siege. Even our Chapter has tasted defeat.”
“No…” Antonius whispered.
“I’m afraid so,” Perseus continued. “Tashka in our sector was devoured by the Tyranids not long after Lord Gulliman left. Our new neighbors, the Acacia Marines, were slaughtered to a man by the Archenemy. Dozens of worlds have burned while we have barely held back the night. This is our only victory since the Omega War.”
“…and that is why you went through the Rubicon…” Antonius said, still processing the shock.
“No.”
“No?” Antonius asked, snapped out of his ill humor.
Perseus reached out and held Antonius’ shoulder. “It was because of you, Captain.”
“I’m… not sure I understand…” Antonius stammered.
“No, you wouldn’t. One rarely sees one’s own bravery. I saw the 4th Company brave the Rubicon and come out stronger. I saw Lord Gulliman spreading his gift to chapters across the galaxy. My choices were to hold to the old ways or to embrace the new.” Perseus fixed Antonius with a knowing stare.
“Of course…” Antonius whispered. “That is no choice at all. Only a fool would turn down the strength they needed to survive.”
Perseus nodded like a proud father. “Just so. My old friend Atrus always told me to show adaptability.”
“So, his letter did guide you.”
“It might have. I burned it unread.”
Antonius sputtered as if kicked in the stomach. “WHAT? Then… why did you furlough the 4th Company?”
Perseus sighed. “I loved Atrus like a father, but he was not a subtle man. He was not shy about his visions. He guided me during our Chapter’s darkest hours. But he’s gone. He can’t guide us anymore. That was my first decision upon taking up the mantle of Chapter Master.” Perseus looked off into the distance wistfully. “We cannot rely on the visions he had. None of them could foresee this. We must make our way on our own, as the chapter he would want us to be, not the chapter he ordered us to be.”
“Yes… I see now. Looking to the past won’t save us. We have to rely on each other.”
“More and more, that is the case. Though we will be tested sorely in the years to come. The galaxy is aflame.”
“Well,” Antonius countered with spirit, “…that won’t be a problem. We are no strangers to the fire.”
Perseus turned to him, his face aghast. Antonius’ hearts froze, had he made another jest that would fall on deaf ears?
Perseus’ face exploded with a deep belly laugh that shut his eyes and pitched his head back into the pit of his armour. All around him, the members of the first company joined in. Merriment shattered the dour mood.
The laughter died away and Perseus heaved a sigh. “If we can keep our hearts as full as yours, Antonius, then there is still hope.”
“There is always hope.” Antonius said with force.
“Indeed.” Perseus replied, clapping Antonius on the shoulder. “So, how went your little experiment?”
“Experiment?”
“The Greyshields. The reason you came here.” Perseus said a bit too slowly to not be patronizing.
Antonius smiled. “Hear for yourself.” He forwarded the 4th company’s comms to Perseus’ vox. It came alive with merriment, congratulations, even singing. Throughout the 4th company, brotherhood rang like a bell.
Perseus’ grip on Antonius’ shoulder tightened, and he pulled Antonius in for a fatherly embrace. “Excellent work, Captain. You’ve made the Greyshields part of the chapter.”
“Not Greyshields,” Antonius corrected. “Brothers. No matter what is happening in the rest of the galaxy, at least this is a day of victory.” Antonius said.
Perseus’ face darkend. “Not just yet. There is one final battle you must face. Come. You must return to His Hammer II with me. He’s been waiting for you…”
Antonius felt his countenance falter. “Who?”
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