C. Goto - Dawn of War

Again, the crystal clear tones of the Astronomican started to slip and scrape, like claws dragging desperately for purchase as they fell from an elevated promontory. Gabriel could see his own fall in the screams of the desperate, melting faces that seemed to reach out for him, dragging him down into hell. But he did not try to hide from the accusations of the dead-they knew what he had done as well as he did. In some ways, their hideous taunts were more apposite and honest than the soaring magnificence of the Astronomican itself.

“Farseer. It appears that the humans may deal with the greenskins for us,” said the ranger, stooped into submission before the unmoving figure of the farseer. “I have seen them fight, and they are strong, if clumsy.”

“Yes, Flaetriu, the new humans will be able to see off the orks, but they are not entirely our allies,” said Macha, her gaze focussed in some unseen place elsewhere. “We should not forget that they are treacherous creatures.”

The shade of the trees played in eddying patterns across the green and white armour of the Biel-Tan eldar. Their temporary camp was buried deep in the forest, at the end of pathways that seemed to lead nowhere. The camp itself hardly broke the rhythm of the trees, as the eldar structures flaunted a perfect match in colour and structure with the local foliage. A number of orks had already passed through the camp, utterly oblivious to its existence, until a rain of fire from shuriken catapults shredded them into mush.

The rangers had been roaming the woods for days now, monitoring the movements of the vile greenskins and plotting ways for the small Biel-Tan force to eradicate the space-vermin. Flaetriu could not even bear the smell of the creatures-their very existence seemed to offend his sense of reality. He and his fellow rangers had already dispatched large numbers of the disgusting creatures, and part of him was loathe to let the stupid humans enjoy the rest. Then again, pest control was not really a profession appropriate for an eldar-such mundane matters could be left to the more mundane races.

“Their arrival was well timed, farseer,” said Flaetriu.

“They were bound to come,” replied Macha, still gazing into the invisible distance. “Their fates are inextricably bound to this place, although they have forgotten this already. The humans have such pathetically short memories. It is this, rather than the darkness in their souls, that makes them so dangerous.”

“When does the Swordwind arrive?” asked Flaetriu, looking into the sky, as though searching for signs of the rest of the Biel-Tan’s army.

“They will be here in time, now that the orks are no longer our concern. For now, Flaetriu, go and see whether the humans require any assistance with the greenskin vermin.”

“Yes, farseer,” said the ranger, bowing his head with something like eagerness. Then, with a couple of long, bounding strides, he had vanished into the trees, keen to add some more kills to his day’s tally.

The first shell exploded against the walls of the city with a screeching boom, sending a rain of rubble tumbling to the ground. The sound brought everyone in Magna Bonum to a standstill, as they realised that the dawn of war had finally come.

The first shell was followed by a second, this time clearing the great walls and smashing into the smattering of hab-units that sheltered in their shadow. The explosion sent groups of civilians running from their homes and sparked fires across three blocks.

But these were just ranging shots, and the real barrage was yet to come. A spasm of artillery fire erupted from the wilds in front of the city walls, raining shells down into the buildings and the crowded streets of Magna Bonum. Pandemonium was loosed on the city, as civilians recovered from their shock and started to run in all directions at once, seeking the flimsy shelter of buildings and make-shift bunkers. Guardsmen ran through the crowds, trying to calm the people as they dashed towards the gun emplacements built into the walls.

Outside the cathedral a great mass of people had gathered, hoping that the immense building would provide them with shelter. But a squad of Blood Ravens stood across the towering doors and blocked their path, their red armour glinting gloriously in the morning sun. Guardsmen and Space Marines darted in and out of the cathedral, slipping between the huge sentries with nods and salutes. Two Whirlwind tanks had rolled into the plaza in front of the cathedral, emblazoned with the insignia of the Blood Ravens. Open-topped transports carrying clutches of Marines accompanied them. The missile batteries of the tanks rotated slowly to face out over the city to the south, ready for the orks to come into range as they approached the city walls.

A Rhino transport roared into the plaza, sending civilians scattering out of its path as it skidded to a halt at the bottom of the steps to the cathedral. As it stopped, a hatch folded out of its stern and a squad of Blood Ravens came pounding down the cathedral steps to leap inside. Just as the last Marine cleared the hatch, the doors slammed shut and the vehicle’s tracks spun into life once again, thrusting the Rhino back out across the plaza and off towards the squad’s defensive assignment.

Inside the cathedral was a throng of activity. Gabriel was receiving a short line of sergeants, dispatching them with well-rehearsed protocols and precise orders. Pushing his way to the front of the crowd, with a small knot of Guardsmen around him, came Colonel Brom.

“Captain Angelos. Librarian Akios,” said Brom, nodding his greetings to Gabriel and Isador. “I have taken the liberty of stationing Tartaran squads around key facilities in the city, especially the power plant. We are also standing guard over the spaceport.” Brom was standing crisply to attention and trying to communicate an efficient air of confidence.

“Ah, Colonel Brom, good of you to join us,” said Gabriel, deflating Brom immediately. “Your initiative is admirable, colonel, but I need you to pull your men out of the spaceport and to man the defences of the city walls.”

“But, captain, if we abandon the spaceport-” started Brom, visibly exasperated.

“-the spaceport cannot be held by the Tartarans, colonel, and the Blood Ravens cannot spare any Marines for the defence of suboptimal positions at this time. Our priority has to be to maximise our defences in one location to assure victory. You should not mistake the orks’ simple manner for stupidity, Colonel Brom. They are more cunning than they might seem, and splitting our defences would play straight into their hands.”

“I’m sure that you know best,” said Brom, biting down on his lower lip.

“Thank you, colonel. Now go. I have much to attend to,” replied Gabriel, turning sharply to address one of the waiting Space Marines. “Brother Matiel, take your assault squad to cover the set of buildings opposite the market sector. And Brother Tanthius, take the Terminators down to the east gate.” Gabriel looked around. “Corallis? Send word to the Litany that we may need aerial support before the day is over.”

Colonel Brom paused for a moment and pulled his cape more securely over his shoulders. Then he straightened his tunic and turned with affected dignity, making his way out of the cathedral with his subordinates in tow.

“I am not sure that I agree with this course of action, Gabriel,” said Isador, watching Brom disappear into the crowd. “Why should we sit here within the city walls and wait for the orks to attack? Why not carry the fight to them?”

“Brother Isador, would you have us go out and meet the orks on open ground as they roll forward in full strength? That would be madness. You and I both know better than to try and engage the orks on their terms. Far better to let their charge break against the walls of Magna Bonum, and then to meet them on our terms. The Codex calls for a defensive action in these circumstances, Isador, and a defensive action is what we shall launch, no matter what the preferences of Colonel Brom.”