“Horrow ain’t on coms no more. Certius is.”
FRAFRAFRAFRA
“Where the slag is Horrow?”
“Dead!”
“Bloodydamn! Certius get over here. You lilyshit bastard—knew I needed to call this shit up. Boyo, you gotta be nut to butt. Wait, where the bloodydamn is doc?! Doc!?”
“Oy.”
“Why the fuck are you so far forward?”
“I was plugging up Horrow.”
VrreeeeVRREEEEdunnnnng. FRA FRAFRAFRA.
“Berserkers!”
“Waste them!!! Next one. No next one right!! The fucker with the ham—”
“Norus! Norus!”
“His head’s off, man. Fire!”
“I’ll get him!”
“His head’s fucking off!”
“I got—agghhh.”
“Slag Norus. We need to fall back! See that water processor looking thing over there?!”
“That thing?”
“No that’s an incinerator, Carthus! That motherfucker! That toaster thing.”
“Yeah Yeah, registers.”
“Heavies give us cover and move move move—”
“Fuckfuckfuck Scarred! Scarred!”
“Anti-Scar up! Up!”
“Rocket green. Rocket away!”
Phhhhhhhoooozchhhh.
“Eat my cock goldilock! Nrrrrk.”
“Bring that tripod up! Where’s our heavy armor!? Is anyone fucking listening to me!? OVERWATCH??!?”
I answer: “I’m here. Heavy armor reinforcements en route and will flank from tunnel sixteen C. Hold your position at all costs.” And that was a veteran unit. I cycle to the next. Red Legion I bleeds and burns to plug the holes. Stomping over Praetorian carapaces leaking blood and machine oil, they rush forward to make bulwarks against the invaders. Tramways, gravLift shafts, subterranean agoras where commerce once thrived become slaughterhouses choked with smoke, fire, rent metal, and robotic screams echoing in helmets.
Sweat stings my eyes. Time disappears. Gone are the learned moralities that once differentiated me from my father. I force my ants in the path of the enemy worms. Then I isolate those worms. Swarm them. Kill them fast as we can. Plug the breaches, damn the cost. Create a grid around them with Haemanthus Legion and Hawk Legion. Constrict the grid. Squeeze the enemy out. It’s working well enough that every few minutes I can check on Kavax.
His Drachenjäger charge must have been a dreadful sight to Lysander’s Praetorians. Five wedges rolling in silence down the slopes of Bastion One. Under cover of the restored shield, they hit the enemy just as their troop carriers brought the second wave of House Lune Legions. By the time I checked back, Kavax had hurled the enemy off a third of their breaches and looked as if he might eradicate the Praetorian Guard by hour’s end.
