The Second Battle for Epstost Major - Choosing the Battlespace
As the central star of Paradiso dipped beneath the horizon, the sky transformed into a breathtaking canvas of oranges and reds, gradually giving way to the deepening blue of encroaching night. The air cooled with the retreat of the day's warmth, and the avian chorus faded, replaced by the gentle crescendo of insectoid chirps rising from the grassy fields, their bioluminescent forms winking into life like scattered stars.
Paradiso's natural splendor was but a distant memory within the shadow of Fort Blue Sky. The planet's vibrant hues abruptly surrendered to the cold, unyielding presence of the base, a monolith of gray calcicrete and cobalt steel. Its colossal gun emplacements jutted outward like the claws of a predator, ever vigilant against any threat from the skies or land. Nearby, an industrial park sprawled across the landscape, the boon with which the CPC had convinced the ruler of the paradise world to assist the crusade. Rows upon rows of advanced manufactora and forges, stood alongside towering storage silos, warehouses, and an intricate web of logistical infrastructure. Thick, noxious plumes rose into the air, their toxic effluence seeping into the planet's water, all carefully concealed from the pampered eyes of the noble guests who basked in Paradiso's paradise. Even as night fell, the industrial complex buzzed with relentless activity, rail lines continuously ferrying raw materials and basic inputs from the Fort's protofabricators under the unblinking watch of twin T2 Triad Turrets, ever alert, ever prepared.
Fran, standing at the edge of the platform, cast a wary glance at a nearby DA1 anti-air turret. The weapon's machine spirit, ever alert, had already locked its twin railgun barrels onto an approaching target that remained beyond his sensoric reach.
"Thy honored guest, Magos Biologis Carnix, doth approach, esteemed Adept Johson," boomed the voice of Bondswoman Bowlten, her words resonating from the external vox of her towering Knight Arminger. The twelve-meter war machine moved with the practiced grace of ancient, well-maintained servos, stepping around the garrison's Stoic Heart Sisters with the care of a feline predator among allies. Its optics whirred, narrowing in on the outline of a UEF Courier transport, civilian version, cutting through the twilight.
"Is it wise to proceed with Project Symbiosis under these circumstances?" Sergeant Hunna's voice was low, her muscular form tense beneath her blue uniform, her arms crossed as she gave Fran a conflicted side eye.
Fran lit a Lho stick, the flare of the match briefly illuminating his features in the floodlights that bathed the landing platform. "Shepard has sanctioned my request," he replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke that swirled in the cool night air. "We must achieve mastery of the symbiont conversion process, regardless of the risks."
"I remember a time when the Cult of Mars was known for caution with advanced technologies," Hunna muttered, her gaze lifting to the Courier as it entered its vertical descent, the wash of the four massive engines ruffling Fran's robes.
"The UEF has long mastered symbiont technology," Fran countered, his fingers idly toying with the Lho stick. "I merely walk a path already paved. There is no cause for concern. I am confident in my course."
Hunna's only response was a grunt of annoyance, Courier touched down, its engines whining to a halt. Sororitas pilots disembarked with practiced efficiency, while power-armored Sisters directed lumbering cargo automata into position. Down the ramp of the lead Valkyrie strode Magos Carnix, a ghastly figure of pale flesh crisscrossed with surgical scars, his visage dominated by the cold, mechanical gaze of two bulging augmetic eyes. His acolytes followed in a silent procession, each one an exemplary product to the art of biological manipulation.
Fran met Carnix at the base of the ramp, the two exchanging curt greetings in the clipped staccato of binary, their voices merging with the background noise of unloading machinery. All the while, the imposing presence of Bondswoman Bowlten's Armiger loomed nearby, its optics scanning the surroundings with an almost sentient wariness.
Fran might have dismissed the Knight's watchfulness as routine, had it not been for the sudden, nervous twitch that rippled through the machine. The facemask jolted momentarily, its gaze snapping to something in the distance, as if detecting an unseen threat.
"Bondswoman Bowlten," Fran called, his attention shifting to the Knight. "Your Warglaive's machine spirit appears unsettled."
"Since our arrival on this world, mine Armiger hath been plagued by disturbances in its locomotion," Bowlten replied, her tone more annoyed than worried. "Methinks it mourns Holy Tet, and no Rite of Alignment hath eased its suffering."
"I shall tend to her myself, once my business with Magos Carnix is concluded," Fran promised. Together, the two Tech-Priests of Mars turned toward the fortress, arcane instruments transported in their wake as the Sisters and automata worked under the watchful, troubled gaze of the Arminger.
The idly roar of engines at Fort Pastor was deafening. Hundreds of civilian star lifters and courier air transports stood waiting on the Grand Assembly Square, awaiting takeoff clearance. Above them, Epstost Major's central star blazed, its searing heat baking the vast calcicrete expanse that stretched for ten kilometers in every direction. Yet, none of those gathered on the square felt the sun's wrath, shielded by the marvels of mass-manufactured air conditioning.
Sororitas clad in UEF-designed power armor moved with purpose, their disciplined march echoing like thunder across the flat terrain as they hurried towards their designated transports. The rumble of blocky UEF APCs added to the cacophony as they rolled beneath the waiting aircraft, ready to be hoisted into the skies by transport hooks. The Knights of Tet, having assembled and boarded their designated Star Lifters hours earlier, stood as towering symbols of war, their ancient steeds armed, refueled, and blessed by the conclave. Polished to perfection, their heraldry gleamed in the unforgiving sunlight, fluttering in the turbulence of nearby engines. All 820 Knight engines of the active standing force, Armingers, Questoris, and Ceratus-patterns alike, stood in a silent, imposing formation, awaiting the gaze of every Sororitas on the square. At the forefront, Absolom, the Knight Crusader of the revered Saint Saka, shone with gold-encrusted glory, the harsh light reflecting off its form like a divine aura.
In the air control tower, the atmosphere was tense yet professional. The ambient buzz of radio chatter mixed with the rhythmic clatter of boots on metal. 2nd Lieutenant Cecilia stood over a holotable, her gaze sharp and focused. Former Sororitas, now UEF soldiers, and Skitarii alike approached her with status updates, their movements quick and efficient. Skitarii operators, plugged into control and communication stations, strained under the weight of immense data processing. Data cables snaked from the ports at the back of their heads across the control room, feeding into whirring cogitator banks overseen by tech priests, who worked tirelessly to ease the computational burden placed upon them.
"Harkon Team, go," an aide reported, the corresponding aircrafts on the holotable lighting up with a symbol.
"Ekanto Team, go, Ma'am."
"Roger that, Nilus Team, go."
"Xiroq Team, go."
"Iesto Team, go."
"Paladin Team, go!"
A predatory smile spread across Cecilia's aging face as she acknowledged the readiness of the entire air armada. She ordered the Skitarii beside her to open a comm channel before speaking into her earpiece with UEF basic, a language all Sisters of the Stoic Heart knew by now.
"Morning, Ladies. Ready to make history?" Her voice was steady "You have your orders, and you understand the gravity of this mission. Today, you bear the finest arms and armor the UEF has to offer. This is your moment to prove to the General and the Emperor that you are worthy of the trust placed in you. Let these weapons be the instruments of His divine vengeance upon the vile greenskins. And with that," she paused, a fierce determination in her tone, "all air units cleared for takeoff. May the Emperor's light guide you, and let's kick some green ass everyone."
The cacophony of engines reached a crescendo, powerful enough to shatter the eardrums of an ordinary human. Turbines roared as they lifted tens of thousands of tons of war material into the air. The ground beneath them trembled as the aerial armada ascended, each unit following its designated flight path. The air was thick with the fury of war as they soared towards their destinations, intent on delivering the Sisters of the Stoic Heart to the soon to be embattled protohives. Below, the remaining Sororitas and Knights of the Fort Pastor Garrison cheered them on as they left, their voices and the warhorns of the Knight engines lost in the storm of engines. One unfortunate Sister, caught too close to a low-flying courier, was sent tumbling backward despite the heavy powered armor she wore, blown a dozen meters across the floor like she was a leaf caught in a gust of wind.
You are oblivious to the events unfolding on the assembly square, the advantage of having capable subordinates is that they handle the logistical nightmare of coordinating hundreds of thousands of soldiers and liaising with the EDF on your behalf. Your focus is on the present moment: you kneel in your ACU piloting suit, while Reverend Hardtmann stands over you, reciting blessing verses from memory. He meticulously anoints you with holy oils, drawing the shape of an aquila across your temple with practiced precision, his other hand holding an incense burner on a chain.
"Is there a prayer you wish to offer yourself?" he asks, his voice resonant and commanding..
You pause for a moment, then make the sign of the aquila with your hands, placing them firmly in front of your chest. "Mighty God Emperor, who reigns upon the Golden Throne on Terra, I seek not your favor for myself. I am confident in my skills and the capabilities of the war machine at my command. Instead, if you have wisdom and grace to spare, direct it towards those who need it more than I. Bless the defenders of this world, for they face a relentless alien threat with inadequate arms and armor. Protect the brave men and women of the EDF so they might return to their homes, and safeguard the Sisters of the Stoic Heart and the Astartes of the Halo Swords, allowing them to fight another day in these perilous times.
They speak of martyrdom and sacrifice, but metal is cheap, and human lives are a resource not to be squandered. Grant your guidance and blessing to Lieutenant Harkon and the Knights of Tet, as I depend on them to support me in this struggle. Alone, I cannot wage a planetary war. If you permit it, let us overcome the greenskin menace swiftly and decisively, restoring order to this world with all due speed as my oaths to the UEF command me."
Reverend Hardtmann's eyes, shadowed beneath his brow, flicker with solemnity. He nods slowly. "A practical supplication, indeed. May your confidence in your own strength and your concern for others guide you as you face the trials ahead. The Emperor's favor is not given lightly, but your words reflect tempered wisdom. Go forth with His blessings and rise to your feet, Lieutenant General Rebecca Shepard of the United Earth Federation."
You rise, towering over the Reverend as he concludes his ritual. With a final muttered prayer, he affixes a purity seal to your pilot suit's chest plate, the sacred wax quickly cooling against the metal. You ignore the sweet scent of molten wax, your gaze fixed solemnly ahead as you await the end of the formalities. With the formal blessings completed, you step back to stand beside the Canoness. She gives you a tight-lipped nod, her eyes narrowed but showing no sign of dissatisfaction with your prayer.
Eliza, clad in her own pilot suit, steps forward to undergo the same ecclesiastical rites. As she receives her blessings, verses of commitment, service, and loyalty are recited. The prayers focus on duty and restraint, urging her to wield her power for the greater good of Mankind and to temper her ambitions with humility. Finally, Eliza clasps her hands and murmurs a prayer which you very much expect from her.
"Holy God Emperor, who reigns supreme and watches over all Mankind from the Golden Throne, I, your devoted servant, beseech you for your divine guidance and blessings in the coming hours. As I prepare to lay waste to the vile xenos that dare assault my homeworld, grant me the strength and wisdom to perform my duties with the brilliance befitting your chosen. May my commands be swift and my strategies shrewd, reflecting a mere fraction of the tactical genius of your revered Generalship.
Bestow upon me the ability to manage mass and energy with precision, expanding my economy and demonstrating my worth beyond the expectations of EarthCOM and my superior officers. Let my actions be a testament to your glory, so that I may secure honor and prestige in their eyes, fulfilling my new oaths to spread order and unity across the galaxy. Shield me with your protective hand against those who might question my loyalty or challenge my faith. In your name, let me triumph over all adversaries and elevate me into the hall of heroes of the United Earth Federation."
Rosentree appears much more satisfied with Eliza's prayer, as the platinum blonde woman too rises, receiving her very own purity seal, ending the blessing ceremony for the two ACU commanders on the planet.
At last, you, Eliza, Katrisha, Rosentree, and the Astartes liaison, Lieutenant Linau, gather around the holotable for a final strategic meeting.
"The Armada has set sail to engage the Orks in battle," Linau remarks grimly. "I've received a directive from the Chapter Master: strategic atomics are to be avoided on a large scale. The planet's food situation is precarious, and deploying such weapons would introduce additional dust into the atmosphere, severely impacting agricultural output for years to come."
You nod in acknowledgment, your expression a mix of resignation and frustration. You then turn to Katrisha. "Lieutenant Sena, I formally transfer command of Fort Pastor to you. Ensure its safety while I'm away."
"In His name, I will not fail you, General," Katrisha replies, saluting with a determined glint in her golden eyes. "With all the resources at my disposal, I will defend these walls against any greenskin assault."
"I expected nothing less," you respond with a confident grin.
Eliza, though stripped of her usual regalia, stands with unwavering assurance. "My father has already dispatched elite Harkon Houseguard formations and several EDF regiments to bolster the garrison."
"Your support is greatly appreciated," Katrisha acknowledges, though her demeanor remains unenthusiastic. She turns to Rosentree. "Canoness, please coordinate with the commanders of the Houseguard and EDF units to integrate them into my defensive plans."
"As you command, Lieutenant," Rosentree responds with a flawless salute before swiftly departing.
Turning your attention back to the table, you outline your strategy. "My plan to deal with Killkrusha and its, admittedly poorly named, ship remains unchanged. I will use the remaining time to set up a convincing decoy base to draw its attention. Meanwhile, Commander Harkon will prepare a direct assault force at a safe distance, ready to strike as soon as the Orks land. The Knights will provide support her during this battle."
The Astartes Lieutenant nods, his tone matter-of-fact. "Have you selected a location for this engagement?"
"Yes," you sigh, "we decided on it when we finalized the lure broadcast. It's—"
(Vote for one)
[]The Frozen Expanse of Gentrice
Located two thousand kilometers north of Hive Harkon, the icy polar regions of Gentrice dominate the northernmost continent. This vast expanse of snow and ice is occasionally punctuated by towering hill and mountain ranges.
[]The Vast Southern Desert of Ilanus
In the southern reaches of Ilanus lies the Great Southern Desert, a sprawling and arid terrain of sand and rock. This dry expanse is marked by deep cliffs, rugged valleys, steep mountains, and sprawling canyons.
[]The Hive Spire Graveyard of Oria
At the heart of Oria lies the immense Hive Spire Graveyard. Here, the remnants of colossal hive spires, once used by the Tyranids for refueling during their desperate flight, are densely scattered across the landscape, their exoskeletal remains standing as silent testament to their invasion.
[]The Eree Island Chain
Six thousand kilometers west of Nerum, where you first arrived on this world, stretches the Eree Island Chain. This archipelago of seven large islands rises from the ocean, now overrun and overgrown with hostile Tyranid flora and fauna that have gone feral. Resources have yet to be allocated to cleanse these islands of their infestation.
