.Flares signalled the attack, their iridescent glow piercing the midnight darkness. The coordinated assault began with a thunderous roar as four battalions of the 77th Terran Armored Regiment surged forward in two wedge formations, my forces at the centre of the left wedge. The plan was simple: a two-pronged assault on the orc-held town, pushing through to rendezvous with the Deep Strikers at the objective. Destroy the tunnels and Void Shields, subdue any resistance, and then fortify the area for a push deeper into orc territory, If possible.

But it seems nobody informed the Space Marine that my forces lack the bots and data-smiths for an effective two-pronged assault. For days, my cohort has drilled simulations, focusing on preserving our limited forces. Reinforcements are weeks, maybe months away. I'm not sacrificing my guys for some vainglorious Lunar Wolf seeking victory. My forces would concentrate on one prong. As a Mid-ranking Magi of the Mechanicum, A Space Marines Sergeant can advise me, but they Cannot order me. I probably could have let Gamma lead the second prong with pork but something tells me, I'm going to need all the firepower I have at my disposal. These orcs are different from those I've faced before.

Each of my three data-smiths commands a manipal of six automata. We're heavily understaffed, undermanned, and under-equipped, raised relatively recently. Even Mars is buckling under a century of constant warfare, which let someone like me rise quickly through the ranks. I must thank my boss for having the foresight to send me Skitarii and combat servitors to supplement my forces. Then again my power base is basically her power base so she just looking out for herself.

My unit is still new and this will be our Second offensive engagement without support from other Mechanicus forces playing nurse-made. or a tech adept from a rival faction poking around my stuff looking for incriminating evidence. That absolutely (Does) not exist.

Blinding lances of light from the Hammer of Cthonia's orbital bombardment provided cover, disorienting the orcs. We closed in, finishing them off. Their wooden MG placements were no match for ship-grade lasers and HE shells. Skitarii Vanguard finished the stragglers, their augmented limbs keeping pace with the tanks.

Explosions from the Deep Strikers marked the Space Marines' progress.

"Visual contacts on enemy fortifications," transmitted a Skitarii ranger in binary.

"Stay in formation," I replied, studying the mini holographic display in my command vehicle. Its blue tint lighting the dark interior "Let the tanks and bots work."

As we advanced, artillery strikes and orbital support continued suppressing orc positions, but pockets of resistance remained. The Siege Automata and tank companies made short work of the Scattered orc encampments Around the wall. They were a speed bump at best. The terrain was once a human settlement, now rubble mixed with wood and stone, infested with orcs. These orcs were larger, more armoured, wielding looted Imperial weapons. They had improvised walls that had robust days of assault. Gunfire echoed around us as we pressed forward. The sight of orc defences crumbling was heartening.

We reached the walls of Objective A—a structure of stone, wood, and metal, graffitied with clan sigils. The task force halted a few hundred meters from the wall. The Colonel Tank rolled up next to me, its white, grey, and black camo blending well with the snow and mud. He vox'd me. "Do you want to do the honours, or should I?"

"No, Han. Save your ammo. Something tells me you'll need it," I replied, stroking my cat's fur. "Thanatar Zeta," I designated the wall, "crack it open."

"Acknowledged," came the response from the Siege robot as it charged its Hellex Plasma Mortar. A few seconds later, the air distorted around the wall with the rolling force of incinerating energy engulfing the area in a burning plasma detonation. A massive dent appeared in the wall, but it was still standing... A couple more shots would do it, but I also wanted to save power for the coming fights.

I opened the hatch of my walking tank and used my bionic eyes to magnify my vision at the fortification. Orcs were dancing on top of the walls, firing their weapons into the air and occasionally trying to shoot my guys, spraying wild, ineffectual fire on us. I looked up at the sky before sending a transmission. "Hammer of Cthonia requesting a fire mission on grid coordinates 5-2-6 on laser designation. I need some help opening a door."

Static flared in my internal speakers. "You're in luck. I got a strong arm. Standby, danger close," replied the captain of the light cruiser. A moment later, Hammer of Catheonia shifted and turned 30 degrees in our direction before launching a beam of iridescent light down on the fortification. My internal sensors dampened audio and visual inputs against the overwhelming force. The shockwave came next, billowing my robes and kicking up dust in all directions, leaving a gaping hole in the ramshackle fortification.

With the wall breached, we advanced. Troops in Long winter coats flooded out of APCs and formed up close by to the tanks. I moved the internal cameras to spot one of my Skitaria Alphas conversing with one of the CO of the Infantry company, They appeared to be cooking up an action plan on how to best coordinate. I inwardly smiled battlefield Independence was a trait

I was trying to cultivate among my forces. The combined firepower of the Siege Automata and the tank companies made short work of any remaining resistance. The once formidable orc defences were now mostly destroyed, and our path to Objective A was clear.

I clenched my fist as we rolled the town, Ruined as it might be there were too many twists and turns, too many vantage points, too many hidden areas, and too many unexpected variables. I hated urban Warfare, especially on the attack. Jagged walls of scrap metal and wood jutted into the sky, covered in crude ork glyphs and war banners flapping in the cold wind.

The streets were choked with debris—broken vehicles, shattered masonry, and the occasional corpse. Fires burned in metal barrels, casting eerie shadows that danced on the ruined buildings.

As we advanced, the stench of unwashed bodies and burning refuse grew stronger, mixing with the acrid tang of promethium from our vehicles. The air was thick with smoke.

"Gamma, Status report," I ordered my Chef Minion. I could see every data point on my internal displays, but I still like to keep in contact with my officers and hear what they need to say.

"No losses on maniples with minor only damage, Acceptable losses amongst the Skitarii, We are at 98% combat effectiveness Praise the Omnissiah" Gamma replied, her voice steady With a hint of excitement.

Travelling through settlement, explosions and tracers from Deep Strikers illuminated the night. We advanced in silence. Apart from initial resistance and orcs on the walls, the town was empty, save for the occasional grot jumping from roof to roof watching us. I didn't like this.

The road widened. Gunshots and explosions intensified. Shouts and commands echoed as we turned a corner, revealing a roundabout with a fountain at its centre. We reached the first objective, rendezvousing with Lunar Wolves and Solar Auxilia. The auxiliary used the fountain as cover and occupied several second-story buildings. The situation was dire. They were being overrun. The Space Marines were a whirlwind of destruction but swarmed by a veritable flood of green.

"Took you guys long enough we—AAg!" The Auxilia Captain was cut off, impaled from behind by a dagger. A purple-cloaked orc appeared briefly before vanishing beneath a cloaking field. Soldiers fired in all directions. Another Auxilia met the same fate. Without hesitation, I commanded my combat servitors to counter-swarm and save the Marines and Auxilia. We had underestimated the number of Orcs.

"All units! Engage and secure this area!" I shouted.

Combat servitors surged forward, clashing with the orc horde. Metal met flesh, and the battle intensified. I climbed onto the Dune Crawler. Gunfire echoed around me. "Hue, I'm going in.

"Mago, your Omnissian axe." Alpha Huwe reverently handed me my weapon.

"Thank you. What would I do without you?" I vaulted out of the tank, To join the Fray.

"Die most likely," he deadpanned, following me with his autocannon ready.

My Manipal of Battle Automata, consisting of two Thanatars, two Kastelans, and two Castellax, advanced, spitting energized death at the enemy. I kicked up snow as I jogged with an axe in one hand and my Custom Plasma Pistol in the other. I felt a minor shaking on the ground before a manhole cover popped open and a fat orc nob emerged chopper in hand before he could even utter a Waahg. Burst fire from Alpha Hue's heavy autocannon Left fist-sized holes in the Orks. A second later I could hear a snap of a kark grenade being primed and thrown Into the manhole cover. A muffled boom came shortly after.

We press forward, The absolute flood of Ork boys began to buckle at the combined assault of Taskforce. Until the last ork was gruesomely smashed to a paste by the Veteran sergeant's power hammer.

Quiet descended on the battlefield, There were a few woos and yells of victory amongst the newer soldiers and tank crews, even my Datasmiths were happy at the result of this battle. No this was no battle I could see it in the eyes of the silent veterans. As they prepared themselves. They knew it too. This was a probing attack. It was just an assault of lower-ranking orks without the stronger variants and none of their vehicle support as well. They were testing us.

I approached Objective A. The Solar Auxilia used a stable building as a medical centre. I noticed a sign. My translation software revealed it was a subway system.

So, this is where they're coming from. Sergeant Wilhelm of the Lunar Wolves crouched by the wounded auxiliary captain, he appeared to be giving her some encouraging words. while a soldier tried to save her. I glanced at my alpha, who ordered one of our medics to assist. A white-robed individual appeared from the night fog, bag and utensils in hand, and assisted the stressed army medic in moving his captain to a more secure location.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

The Sergeant rose, his Terminator armour dented with bullet holes, burn marks, and scratches. The aftermath of the battle lingered around him like a cloak. "Thank you for your timely assistance," he said with a curious mix of annoyance and gratitude. He glanced at my cohort, lips tight. "Magos Victor, I thought I ordered you to split your forces. Explain yourself. This could jeopardize the plan."

"With all due respect, Sergeant, you do not command me. Only your Primarch Horus, Archmagos Catalina, and the Lord General, who is dead, have authority over me. You may advise me, and I will heed your counsel, but I will deploy my troops as I see fit." Razor, my cybercat, jumped onto my shoulder, her eyes glowing as she projected the battle plan between us. Illustrations of my cohort popped up. "I have 24 Automata that I can field and three Datasmiths, including me. This splits into four battle maniples of six Battle Automata each. While this might seem sufficient, my unit is fresh and understaffed; any losses will be crippling to further engagements. Therefore, I must prioritize survivability for this long-term campaign. Until I have sufficient personnel and equipment, I cannot engage in reckless assaults."

I paused before continuing, "I tried to bring this to your attention, but by the time I received the full scope of your intentions, you were already mobilized. I joined this attack because I'm supplemented by two dozen combat servitors, five squads of Skitarii, and Dune Crawler support. It's a good chance to gain experience."

The Sergeant paused, then spoke. "I was under the impression your cohort was 55 strong."

"Oh yes, that would be my reinforcements. But due to warp storms, they might arrive tomorrow or months from now. An Astropath on Mars sent a message saying we already received them. On paper, I'm at full strength," I shrugged, giving a "what can you do" gesture.

"No matter. We must proceed. The goals remain the same," the Sergeant said. "Come, we must destroy the Ork tunnels before their next assault."

The troops of the 77th Armoured Brigade began to set charges at the subway entrance, I sent a few servitors equipped with explosives inside deeper into the holes to recon the area before blowing it up. It didn't take too long before one scout stumbled upon a group of ork boys gambling, their gruff voices echoing in the tunnels. They paused their game as they saw the lumbering form of the organic computer. Brandishing their weapons they walk towards the servitor with curiosity and began to poke and prod it. One of the smarter orka peered at the bulging thing it had on its back. "Oay.. that lookz like a"...I detonated it

The ground beneath me buckled and shook and one of the buildings to my west began to sink into the ground as the cascade of explosions from the charges began to rage through the subway. I let out a breath of relief that's two objectives complete, I looked up at the brightening sky dawn was approaching.

The Force began to fortify the plaza, The best they could rubble was moved to make improvised cover lines, MG and mortar and placements were set up, The tanks pushed larger debris in front of the main road and side roads blocking their path. Minds and explosive charges were placed where the Orks were most likely to come from—by the time we were done morning had finally come. Some troops took a chance to eat some MREs while they could. Before the Orks came back.

I found Sergeant Wilhelm again at the fountain with his squad of 10 Marines Stoically observing everything. "How is objective B Have they completed their assignments"

I already knew how Objective B was doing, but I couldn't let the space marine know I had access to their encrypted communications They got really touchy with that. I too would get upset if someone was reading my mail, Because I'd probably be arrested or executed.

"The second element has linked up with my brothers at the other plaza. They faced, moderate resistance and took casualties..." He paused and turned seemingly looking at nothing.

He closed his eyes for a moment "While completing their objectives They managed to locate and destroy the tunnel and ammunition depot but did not destroy the shield generator. "He gave a bitter smile that did not reach his eyes. "My captain and the rest of his company are being redeployed to this sector. We should be reinforced in a few hours. All we have to do is hold."

"That's excellent news, With the help of your entire company, our Task Force, And the reinforcements from the 11th Regiment we should have enough offensive momentum to actually push the orks back instead of just holding the line"

"Indeed preferably we can take this entire sector before the other legions arrive" he seems superbly smug, previous melancholy gone

Glancing to the side where the dead were neatly placed and aligned near one of the buildings.

But why couldn't we just wait until everybody was here and then strike, I Didn't like to deal with victory-hungry space marines, especially lunar wolves. I bid Sergeant farewell and went to talk to the Colonel.

I found him his Winter camouflage tank, Spicy Dream his current Steed was 14 years old a venerable beast by Army standards. The Massive malcador tank had the latest tracks on about 40-odd Worlds. On the side were emblazoned 5 Sigils each representing a Primark Legion that the 77th Terran had fought under. I fought beside them originally as a tech adept assigned to the 77th for a few years before I was poached/conscripted by Legio Cybernetica.

I opened the tank hatch without much fanfare and took my old spot near the engine block. The doodles and graffiti I had left a few years ago were still there, I proceeded to add a few more. The interior was surprisingly spacious enough to have a crew of 3 to 5 to basically live in the tank for long periods. You wouldn't be comfortable but it was possible. Now done with my little artistic outburst I went to the center of the tank where the command seat was.

Han was drinking coffee while flicking through some paperwork cigarette on one side of his mouth the smoke hung in the air around him like a blanket. "What's up" I greeted my friend and slumped into the gunner seat beside him gave me a side eye before putting down his papers and taking a deep drag of his cigarette.

"Do you need something he asked" Puzzlement on his face.

"No just checking up on you" I replied Cheerlee.

"Oh..ok then Booger off then, I'm busy". He said resuming his paperwork

"How dare you I am a Magos Dominus of the most sacred and esteemed Forge World of Mars. Show some respect before your insolence has consequences." I said in my most regal and deep mechanical voice."

"Victor I've seen you cry, puke your guts out, and fumble several women interested in you despite you being a mad tech-priest. any mystery or gravitas you had is as gone dead and buried."

He took a sip of his coffee and shook his head a faint smile on his face.

I leaned back in the spotter seat, letting the familiarity of the tank's interior wash over me. The hum of the engine was a comforting reminder of my past, and the smell of oil and metal mixed with Han's cigarette smoke created a uniquely nostalgic atmosphere. Han had always been more than just a commanding officer; he was a friend, someone who had seen me at my best and my worst.

"Alright, alright," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. "No need to bring up my less-than-glorious moments. But seriously, how's the 77th holding up?"

Han exhaled a cloud of smoke, his expression softening slightly. "We're managing. The new recruits are green as grass, but they'll learn. They always do." He paused, studying me. "And you? How's life among the cogboys treating you?"

I shrugged, leaning back. "Same old. You know how it is. Endless tinkering, deciphering ancient tech, and occasionally getting conscripted for fieldwork when someone needs a tech-adept who can also handle a lasgun."

Han chuckled. "Never thought you'd end up a Magos Dominus. Seems like just yesterday you were the awkward tech-adept trying to figure out which end of the spanner to hold, with a weird servitor cat at your side."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, well, life has a funny way of surprising us. Speaking of which, how's Spicy Dream holding up? Still running smooth?"

Han's eyes lit up with a mix of pride and affection. "Like a dream, as always. She's taken a beating, but we've managed to keep her in top shape. Wouldn't trade her for any other tank in the galaxy."

We fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the distant rumble of the engine and the occasional rustle of paperwork. It was moments like these that made the endless war bearable moments of quiet camaraderie and shared history.

Eventually, I broke the silence. "You know, it's good to be back. Even if it's just for a short while."

Han nodded, his gaze distant. "Yeah, it's good to have you back. Even if you're just here to doodle on my tank and annoy me."

I laughed, feeling a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the tank's internal temperature. "What can I say? Old habits die hard."

He glanced at me, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Just try not to get yourself killed out there, alright? We've lost too many good men already."

I nodded, the gravity of his words sinking in. "I'll do my best. You take care of yourself too, Han. And take care of Spicy Dream. She's a beauty."

With that, I pushed myself up from the seat, giving him a mock salute. "Until next time, Colonel."

Han returned the salute, his expression softening. "Until next time, Magos."

------------

I think I have to fix the formatting and do some editing well do that later thanks for reading

The first wave of editing is in progress, God help me why did I think uploading this early was a good idea? Note to self. edit stuff before you upload stuff to the internet.