Target acquired.
After verifying their target was indeed Kaithan von Klaeus, Niandra activated the recording function on her binoculars and gave the signal to attack. A long-distance away, elite kill-team members of Mechanicus Skitarii Rangers fired their Transuranic Arquebuses from concealed positions.
Niandra watched as the supersonic depleted transuranium shells that could fully penetrate a battle tank went through layers of reinforced concrete and hit their mark, only to be repelled by an energy field that materialised on impact.
Even through the walls, the advanced sensors in her multi-spectrum binoculars had confirmed their quarry was still alive. This rare joint operation between the Inquisition and Mechanicus had started off promising enough, but a quick and easy resolution still eluded them. If it had gone as planned, Niandra just had to be a witness to Kaithan’s demise but unfortunately, the man was resourceful enough to survive their sniper volley.
So it is back to the standard affair after all, the assassin thought as she sprang into action and ran forward after sending out another signal notifying the strike force to go for the assault. Way ahead of her, squads of Mechanicus Sicarian Infiltrators who had snuck forward earlier broke their concealment and started a direct attack.
‘Artillery fire inbound onto target base, variant Manticore Storm Eagle rockets, ETA five minutes.’ The Skitarii Alpha Ranger who was in charge of the strike force dropped his vox warning with a tone so flat most people would think the speaker was completely devoid of biological parts, but what Niandra took notice of was their choice of weapon deployed.
Manticore rockets again? She mused to herself, silently noting how even the Cult Mechanicus, an Order that was supposed to champion cold logic could still be petty when a chance of payback presented itself.
Inside the perimeter of the headquarters, hell broke loose as automated sentry guns came online but instead of shooting the invaders, turned their guns on the occupants of the base instead. Heavy bolter rounds started firing indiscriminately into troops and administrative staff with gruesome effects.
Amid the ensuing havoc, any troops that managed to rally soon clashed with the Sicarian Infiltrators and the results were spectacularly one-sided. The tall and slender forms of posthuman Infiltrators barely broke their stride as they cut through the human ranks with flechette blasters spitting death, while taser goads split heads and bones in showers of blood and gore.
The cybernetic killers sped relentlessly forward, all the while broadcasting mind-bending neurostatic bombardment of anguished static screams on disruptive wavelengths from their domed-shaped heads to cause further disarray as they decimated the rebel ranks.
The rebels who were caught between a surprise attack and subverted security measures stood no chance, dozens of people died in the first twenty seconds before a general alarm was even sounded.
Niandra was getting close to the quarry, her ponytail and cameleoline camo cloak fluttering in the air as she dashed forward with inhuman speed and leaping over heaps of dead bodies. Right in front of her a short distance ahead, the squad of infiltrators charged with securing Kaithan went inside the main building for the finishing blow.
Arch Dominus Kryptorer Cykell had deemed the assassination attempt on Syrine an act of high terrorism and pinning the responsibilities on Kaithan, this operation served both as payback and a decapitating strike on the leadership of the rebel army.
An elite strike force was assigned to the task and Niandra was attached to it as both liaison and overseer of the operation for the inquisition, as it was in Inquisitor Thaberus’ interest to confirm Kaithan’s elimination.
This was the first time Niandra was working with members of Skitarii, the cybernetic military forces of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Looking at the speedy progress, even as a lethal killer herself she was impressed by their cold efficiency. Just as she was anticipating the mission coming to a closure, the sounds of close quarter melee erupted from the target building.
Kaithan still has forces that are able to withstand the Skitarii?
The moment that idea crossed Niandra’s mind, there was a sudden sense of foreboding warning her that she had turned from a hunter to the hunted. Trusting her instincts, Niandra quickly moved to one side without hesitation and barely dodged an unseen attack that seemingly materialised from the thin air, feeling the air sizzling uncomfortably close to her face.
Despite the lack of a visible enemy the assassin somehow managed to parry two more heavy blows in a heartbeat before jumping back and dispersing a cloud of powder in front of her. Being the chief distributor for Thaberus’ inquisitorial judgement for decades had taught Niandra to prepare for all eventualities, so a seemingly invisible enemy hardly counted as the strangest thing she had seen in her unconventional career.
When her powder made contact with the enemy, a curious reaction occurred and undid whatever was holding up the stealth, revealing her opponent to be a space marine in full war plate.
Pushing down her own shock at the revelation, she had but half a second to get a proper look at the marine without any time to dwell on how a seven feet tall space marine could turn invisible.
He appeared to be wearing a dark grey suit of power armour of mismatched components devoid of any markings, but was primarily made up from Mark VI armour. His choice of melee weapon was a single lightning claw gauntlet.
The marine’s Corvus pattern helmet with cold blue lens stared like an avian beast as he pointed a bolt pistol at her, just in time for the assassin with transhuman reflexes to dodge his shot by the smallest distance.
Niandra lunged forward with her power sword, forcing the marine to take a step back. Taking her chance, the assassin quickly drew and fired her grav-pistol at the marine near point-blank range with her free hand.
A weapon that was really effective against large mass targets, grav weapons were rare but not out of reach from the inquisition. Knowing the possibility of encountering renegade marines again she had prepared the pistol just in case any of them showed up.
Too close to dodge the attack, the marine instead blocked the shot with his bolt pistol, sacrificing his sidearm and retaliating with a brutal and swift upwards kick. His attack connected but to his surprise, the assassin took the blow, the close space severely limiting its force to be lethal. She caught the kick with her arms and used it to launch herself backwards to put some distance between them.
The marine watched as the Niandra nimbly flew back, drawing her camo cloak in and activating it to melt her image with the surroundings an instant later. He was about to give chase before realising the perimeter heavy bolter sentries had started training their guns on him, so he retreated.
Moments later, Niandra was applying first aid to her bruised forearm that had absorbed the kick while watching from a safe distance as the rebel headquarters compound was levelled by relentless bombardment. With its void shield generator shutdown, the base was helpless against conventional attacks.
Earlier she had witnessed a dark grey Astartes Thunderhawk gunship flying extremely low to the ground fleeing from the site like a wounded beast, she had little doubt Kaithan had escaped on it.
The Skitarii Alpha Ranger, sounding as lifeless as before, had reported back to her about the Sicarian Infiltrators squad tasked with apprehending the rebel lord had clashed with an unknown Astartes unit and was presumed lost before the bombardment hit.
Stolen novel; please report.
She raised her bandaged forearm, it stung a little even with all the pain suppressants in her system. The blunt force trauma from a space marine’s kick with his power armoured boot could have caused some deep muscle and bone damage. She made a mental note to get prepared for some of Veritta’s good old berating while sending out a coded message to Thaberus informing him of the unfortunate mission result and her strange encounter with a space marine who can turn invisible.
* * *
Moments ago I had flipped the Identification Friend or Foe protocol on the sentry gun network and turned off the rebel headquarters’ void shield generators, it would appear the carnage was over.
Fighting through my complicated feelings of getting people slaughtered, I asked the important question.
I quickly took out the key information and compiled the data into a presentable format to be used later and sent an advance copy to the rear end of the rebel forces where the Sororitas seraphims were holding up Rearguard General Borrin.
A lot of effort had been put into the operation to take over the rebels’ backline. I had even enticed the general to talk so a more comprehensive analysis of his speech pattern could be done. It was then demonstrated to let him know we do not exactly need his cooperation to screw up their whole army.
In truth, I did prefer him to surrender to us peacefully. Borrin Yalstin, known as “Iron Back” Borrin by his subordinates, has a reputation for being a straight-talking, stern but fair man with effective leadership skills. Just the type of man the planet needed for defence.
Borrin had since been asked about the renegade marines but he apparently knew nothing about it. His shocked reaction upon being informed and shown evidence of the existence of space marines seemed genuine enough, so that meant only the people at the very top of the rebel faction were involved with the marines. The plot thickens.
Successfully getting Borrin and the forces under his command out of the fight meant we had for the moment put multiple artillery regiments out of the equation, effectively silencing thousands of big guns in the backline. Now we just need to wrap up the big fight quickly to prevent further complications.
We had since rerouted the whole tactical data streaming from the rebel headquarters and sent a constant stream of fake information to the rebels’ on-field army, masking loyalist movements to insert our entire army into strategic positions right under their noses.
From the rebel army’s point of view, their auspex readout told them they were routing us and sending the governor’s forces on a disarrayed retreat. We had deployed a complex mix of false readings and sacrificial dummy units to make the ploy look as convincing as possible. Hopefully the fog of war, combined with the endless supply of smoke in the actual battlefield could last long enough for the deception to work.
I watched in my vision as the thousands of pieces moved slowly into position, pushing the grand rebel army further and further into a tactically unsalvageable position.
Suddenly there was a rapid stream of notifications indicating a surge of intercepted vox messages coming from the rebel army. Mixed within reports of coordination and engagements were the personal messages from the rebel army. Not sure why but a flurry of personalised vox messages started appearing on the field.
Here was a father telling his children to behave if he did not return, there a son was calling his parents not to worry about him because they were winning, another confessed her love to a colleague and asked for a chance for dinner should he return. Like a slow summer phantom rain, the trickle of private vox messages went through me. It drizzled slowly at first, then steadily it gained momentum, more and more messages came forth until it poured like a tropical storm.
Again and again, similar messages and patterns kept repeating themselves. Parents and children worried about one another, friends wishing luck amongst peers, lovers calling out to each other. Hundreds of thousands of people were voxing out what could have been their messages if they never met one another again. The after taste of the data stream started flooding and formed an image of the combined soul of the army staring back at me. Their messages were so mundane, so ordinary... They are just ordinary people.
I watched as a silent observer in a sea of well wishes and farewells, after a while it was getting hard to observe so my consciousness was retracted from that data stream. When my vision returned to the god-like view of the battlefield, a few good old [Regalis] notices had popped up on the edge of it. Breathing in deeply, my mind struggled to focus.
Throne damn it, I can do this.
Then suddenly, an odd but familiar sensation hit me, one that should not have happened. Doubting myself, I swatted my forehead with the back of my palm to make sure, but there it was, on the back of my palm was a patch of moisture. It was sweat. I was sweating for the first time since coming to this world.
Just as its implication was being pondered a wave of dizziness and headaches hit me. I reflexively held onto the side of the podium but then my body started to shake slightly before stabilising back.
Oh hi! Mortality my old friend, long time no see.
‘Lady Syrine?’ Behind me came the concerned voice of my assigned caretakers, Veritta and Welminah.
‘I am alright, just feeling a bit tired.’ I assured them but inwardly a sense of panic was setting in. So this hyper-advanced transhuman body has its limits after all.