Deliverance Lost

As he watched the Imperator unleash a ball of ravening blue energy from its plasma a

‘Full alert, man stations! Threat imminent.’

‘Powering up defence ca

The words had barely sunk in when the macro-ca

Just as the noise of the shell detonations reached Alpharius, a ticking started in his skull, a double pulse different from the one he had felt before. He knew immediately what it meant: Omegon had remotely activated the tracking function. The implant was now homing in on the devices of the other Alpha Legio

It’s started, Alpharius thought, his hearts racing. The Alpha Legion were making their move. He had to get into position and meet with the others.

Increasing the magnification of his sight, Alpharius saw four columns of vehicles and infantry snaking through the ruins where the ca

Alpharius hurled himself to the rockcrete a moment before the ca

Propelling himself towards the door, Alpharius was engulfed by a storm of sparks and fiery debris from above, spitting and clattering on his armour. He hauled open the outer door and threw himself inside, slamming the armoured portal as another volley of shells hammered into the rampart where he had been only two seconds before.

‘Nord and Falko are down,’ Sergeant Dor reported. ‘Ca

The tower shuddered again from more impacts as the airlock cycled through the filtering process. Alpharius paced back and forth for a few seconds, waiting for the i

‘What about the others?’ asked Alpharius, glancing up to the landing above. Automatic fire suppression systems had flooded the gun casement, filling it with white, dusty smoke.

‘Done for. Let’s get moving,’ said Dor, setting off down the steps. ‘Muster at station four.’

Alpharius could not afford to be drawn into the general muster. His instructions from his primarch were to get to the main gate.

‘Go on,’ said Alpharius, waving Marko to follow Dor.

The Raven Guard turned his back on Alpharius as the Alpha Legio

‘What’s the delay?’ Dor shouted back up from the landing below.

Alpharius dropped Marko’s corpse to the floor, readied a grenade from his belt, and moved to the rail above the steps.

‘Take this!’ he called out, dropping the primed grenade.

Dor caught it out of instinct. A slow second passed as he realised what he had done, the grenade falling from his fingers, but too late. The grenade exploded, hurling the sergeant from his feet, razor-edged shrapnel cracking against his armour. Alpharius knew that a single grenade would not be enough to take down a legionary and vaulted over the rail, bolter in one hand.

He thudded onto the landing as Dor was pushing himself to one knee, chainsword already drawn. Gas hissed from split piping and oily fibre-bundle lubricant mixed with the blood leaking from the sergeant’s midsection. Alpharius’s first bolt hit Dor in the left side of his helm, where the communication pick-up was located, silencing any warning he might broadcast.

Dor roared and leapt at Alpharius, who dodged back a moment before the spi

Stopping only to prise the chainsword from Dor’s dead grip, Alpharius headed down the tower.

LOOKING UP AT the colossal form of the Magnus Caseias the Imperator Titan unleashed another miniature star into the heart of the city, Omegon felt a little trepidation. He had known that the Order of the Dragon had extensive resources, but had not appreciated just how much influence they had extended into the Mechanicum of Kiavahr. He had expected a distraction, infighting amongst the different temples. What the Order of the Dragon had delivered was all-out civil war.

The streets were packed with tech-priests and Mechanicum functionaries fleeing the carnage. Slack-faced servitors wandered around, unable to process what was happening, staring vacantly at the explosions and flames. Here and there, soldiers in reflective bodysuits herded the crowd away from the fighting, urging them out of their lines of fire with their rifles. Praetorian servitors – half-human war machines even larger than Omegon – watched over the exodus with chainguns, lasca

Guild forces were pouring into the city, thousands of warriors clad in armoured environment suits. The distant crackle of las-fire and thunder of heavier weapons cut through the sound of flames and the panicked shouts of the surging throng. Here and there, the fabric of the streets themselves exploded from below as indiscriminate mole mortar fire raked the city from the outskirts.

Screaming and shouting erupted with renewed fervour as the Magnus Caseilifted its foot and stepped along the broad boulevard between two smoking hab-blocks. Defence turrets atop its buttressed and crenellated carapace barked into life as the vapour trails of aircraft cut through the sky above the city.

Amongst the surge of fleeing civilians, Omegon had perfect cover. He stepped from the doorway of a forgehouse and into the crowd, head wrapped in a thick scarf, heavy robes concealing his immense frame. He had discarded his armour, sinking it into a chem-pool in the wastes; it was stealth and not physical defences that would protect him now.

Allowing himself to be pulled along by the stream of people, he flowed with them to where the boulevard broke into a large plaza. There the crowd began to fill the square and their panic grew. Squads of the Mechanicum’s soldiers – the skitarii – were blocking off the exits, forcing back the refugees with electro-staves and warning shots from their autoguns. Tracked weapons platforms were positioned at the intersections, their cyber-augmented crews alert for danger.

It was simple enough for Omegon to use his bulk to force a path through the throng, heading for one of the other roads leading into the plaza. Shouldering aside a tech-priest, he strode to the skitarii cordon. He was met by a company leader, the plates of his carapace armour engraved with Mechanicum runes. The officer looked up at Omegon with mechanical eyes, lenses reflecting the flames consuming the cloudscraper behind the primarch.