Chương 77: Chapter Twenty-Five: Rust and Ruin (Part VII)
Article Ten
Dated: (129) 894.M30
Past the walls of Green-Forge-beta was a colossal hive-complex of machinery twisted together in an impossible Xeno-nest dedicated to simple industry. The sprawl of arcane mad xenotech went on for hundreds of kilometers. Building up towards the center in a humongous tumor of metal. Some primal part of my brain was reminded of a cyst. Each Greenskin forge-complex a massive bulging zit on the face of Rust, with piles of dead flaking metal forming its border. At the very peak of the mound was a point of crackling green lighting. The point of eruption, where this mountain of foul life and twisted machinery would finally burst out into the galaxy. Before we could even attempt to climb this summit, the Imperium needed to deal with two lesser hives near the destroyed scrap-wall.
Twin hive-spires, each the size of a small mountain, and just as bulbous stuck out of the mechanical wasteland. Unlike the rest of the area they did not belch smoke, spit sparks or scream with tearing metal. They did not move, nor make a noise until they awoke. At first, I did not understand what I was seeing. At first, I thought some Titan missiles had smashed into the hives. As layers of gantries, wiring, tubing, and scaffolding were ripped away. With growing horror I watched as two cities began to move, ripping free of cocoons of infrastructure. An arm larger than a Capital Titan burst from the scaffold wrappings. Shaped into the form of a monolithic three-fingered claw it reached up and tore away what covered the hive-machines face. Revealing a pair of glowing red balls of hate for eyes, and a colossal mouth filled with scrap-metal teeth. Soon both hive-machines were free, treads large enough to flatten Knight-Walkers like bugs pushed the monstrosities forward.
Have you ever seen a city move? No, I don't mean a walking building like a Titan or Voidship holding tens of thousands? I mean an actual city. Part of a sprawling urban landscape, detaching from its surroundings and trying to kill you? I have, and I will never forget every detail of it. Even through borrowed eyes kilometers away from my own flesh, I had never felt such fear. As I watched the insane battle unfolding I kept telling myself over and over the "Giga-Gargants" were machines. Just overgrown ramshackle alien contraptions. That would soon fall to the Imperiums might. Yet no matter how many times I told myself, I could not shake the feeling they were something far greater and more terrible. Every flicker in those hateful red eyes seemed a sign of a malicious power beyond comprehension. My reading on the Orks informed me the Xenos crafted mega-machines as idols to their gods. Seeking to build larger and more terrible false-Titans to capture the essence of their twin gods. As grinding metal and roaring engines came together to sound like bestial laughter. I started to wonder if some terrible element of truth powered that belief.
The fear I felt was not shared by the Angels of Death or God-Machines. They did not even falter when the Giga-Gargants broke free of their scrap-chrysalis'. All my attention and that of the entire assault of Green-Forge-Beta was focused on the nightmarish idols before us, we did not even realize the next threat had arrived. The Xeno cyst had finally erupted. From its glowing emerald peak, a blast of green lighting flew up towards the heavens. A lance of Orkish malice born of some "Mekboy'z" insanity struck the Thunderhead. The Gloriana-Class Flagship hung in low orbit and seemed to writhe with pain when the lance hit. It took me a moment to realize it actually was writhing, the kilometer-long ship thrashed about. Horror chilled my soul as it became apparent what was happening. An Orkish gravity weapon the likes never before seen had speared Thunderhead. The flagship was doing all it could to resist being pulled from orbit.
No time to process this incoming disaster was to be had. My attention was pulled back to the clash of Gargant and Titan. The Orkish war-idols were slow, lumbering brutes that killed anything they hit. Literal waves of lead and plasma poured from hundreds of guns haphazardly mounted to the beasts. Turning Land Raiders and Battle Titans alike into smoking piles of ash. The battle once so surely in our favor rapidly shifted against us as new waves of Orkish attack-craft spilled from the industrial wastes. Joining the battle in the plasma-born crater. Thankfully we were still getting reinforcements, not from the Thunderhead of course but some of the other large Crusader ships had broken through the Orkish orbital defenses and deployed alongside us. Entire Clans of Astartes and elements from three Titan Legions joined the fight.
Almost on cue to crush morale the Thunderhead suffered another devastating blow. Another lance of green lighting struck into, coming from somewhere else on Rust. Another harpoon in the belly of the leviathan, working to drag the ship to her doom. Soon a third and a fourth gravity skewer hit the Flagship. The works of Green-Forge Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta I was guessing. For a few terrible moments, I wondered if I would witness a Primarchs star-throne fall. Such grim worries were interrupted by a broad-signal vox-cast. A simple message to every human in the Rust system spoke by a familiar voice of a legend. Primarch Culian MakTursan roared his son's cadence across the vox: "STRENGTH OF MEN!"
Which called forth a Legion to respond in unison to their father: "STRENGTHENED BY METAL!"
Before the full-throated cry of the Stormbringers could fade from the Vox, the Stormlord arrived. A bolt of lightning cut through the skies of Rust again. This time it was not sickly green but the white-hot electricity of distant Terra. This time it came from the Thunderhead, not aimed at it. This time it brought not death born of mad genius, but salvation created by immortal wisdom. The Primarch and his chariot arrived. Teleporting right to the top of Green-Forge-Beta with an honor guard of Land Raiders and Predators. Primarch Culian rode inside a behemoth of a Tank. Known as the Ríastrad-un-Laeg, A naming translating from old western Brittionese as "Chariot of Stormy Fury." An apt name for the vehicle. Its form resembled both Baneblade and Land Raider to some degree. Then magnified in size to tower over its parent-vehicles like a Primarch looms over Astartes. Supposedly in his youth, Culian had traveled to Mars to petition the Fabricator-General themself to create this hybrid weapon of doom. The young Primarch is said to have traveled into the dark catacombs of the Red Planet armed with nothing but a spear of adamantium and a robe of red. Returning weeks later with secrets thought lost forever in Old Night and permission to create his perfect chariot.
Watching even from a distance the Riastrad-un-Laeg unleash its wrath I could fully believe those legends. Even only catching glimpses of the Primarch's Chariot challenging the peak of Green-Forge-Beta, its might was evident. Lances of Starfire drawn from the Dyson-Bottle flew from the Riastrad's main gun. Culian Stormking challenged the Orkish warlord called "Wyattboss Zakga" in the Xenos lair. In a duel of battle-tested steel and exotic energy. White-hot Starfire and sickly-green lighting clashed, blasting Titan-sized holes in Green-Forge-Beta with every missed shot. I did not witness the Primarchs fight but later learned what he faced. The Wyattboss was truly mad, even by the standards of the Orkish tech-caste. Having wired himself into Green-Forge-Beta and by extension all of Rust. Becoming some nightmarish hybrid of Ork and Abominable Intelligence. A digitized beast ruling a kingdom of machines and malice. Culain fought the monster in its sanctum, the core of Rust's industrial machine. A great nightmarish nexus of Orkish psitech, half-finished apocalyptic weapons, and puppeteered Cybork Elites.
The Primarch faced his own challenges and would not be able to help us. The assault on the Giga-Gargants would be the duty of humans and transhumans. Leaving the Hero-King of Thunder to slay his Monster Lord. The Titans and Astartes fought well and died well. Every death the Orks inflicted was paid back many fold. Auxilia armor took the lead fighting the Orkish Tanks and Trukks. Baneblades and Borealis Tanks dueled swarms of patchwork scrap-craft. Crushing Orkish bikes and lost infantry under tread. While blasting Gargants and Battlefortresses with powerful guns. Some Astartes Land Raiders and Rhinos joined the fight, but most of the deployed Stormbringers were needed alongside the Titans to fight the Giga-Gargants.
Packs of Scout Titans danced around the massive Orkish war-idols. Slipping into the monster-machines blindspots and attacking its treads. Titanic hunting hounds flushing the great beast for their masters to strike. The Capital and Battle Titan sustained fire against the Giga-Gargants, never ceasing a barrage of laser, plasma, and missile detonations. The Capital Titans were slower than the Orkish moving-hives but more agile. Their lumbering frames capable of dodging city-crushing charges. Eventually, a misstep in this clash of Titans happened. Damage from the earlier Orkish assault had caught up to Nuada. Stress fractures in its Adamantium bones finally split open and its left leg cracked under the Titan's own weight. Using its main weapon-arm to stabilize itself, Nuada tried to stay standing. The first Giga-Gargant, a red-painted beast the Greenskins called the Gorkmonsta, noticed this weakness. Revving engines strong enough to power a Battle Cruiser the gravity-defying city-on-treads barreled towards Nuada. Before the Gorkmonsta, the Capital Titan seemed a child about to be run over by a rogue landcar. Nothing could be done, the Titan would meet its end beneath the crushing bulk of the Orkish war-idol.
The Princep of Nuada understood this, but she also understood her enemy. The Greentide cannot stop once it is started, it will hurtle forward crushing everything in its wake. Stopping only when this irresistible force met an immovable object. The Princep lacked such a thing, but she had the next best option at her disposal. A force powerful enough to disrupt the Greentide. With her last thoughts, the Princep diverted every drop of power into the weapon her Titan used to prop itself up. The Titan Nuada and its crew greeted death with a roar of triumph as the Gorkamonsta crushed them under itself. An act of destruction that not just destroyed the Nuada utterly, but broke open its overcharged Plasma Annihilator inside the Giga-Gargants shields.
Plasma fire erupted right under the Gorkamonsta. The same power that had reduced the jagged gate to ash and slag now punched into the War-Idol's undercarriage. Ripping a hole right through the Gorkamonsta and up through the city-weapons ``chest" In a testament to Orkish engineering and Gravity technology much of the force was redirected. Launching the front half of the Gorkamonsta into the air. Pushed up on its back treads the War-Idol hung there for a moment before true Gravity asserted itself. Like some feral steed rearing up and thrashing hooves, the War-Idol came crashing down. The impact was not kind to it and its massive red eye-lumens flickered out. The Gorkamonsta had come to a stop, having met an equally irresistible force in mankind's determination.
The Stormbringers wasted no time, a quartet of Mastodon Heavy Assault Transport barreled towards the wounded Giga-Gargant. Punching into the torn open machinery of the War-Idols front and releasing squads of Breachers and Assault squads from the Sixth and Eighth Wings of the Legiones Formations. Fast-acting boarders punching into the disabled Gorkamonsta. Carving a path of destruction through the Beast-machine's innards. All while feeding a steady stream of tactical data to the broader Assault. The Astartes of the X Legion had mastered the art of Armored Warfare, but they were still Space Marines, and boarding an enemy vessel was the purest form of their duties. Like some fast-acting Virus, the Stormbringers homed in on critical systems and ripped them to shreds. Shields fell, weapons went silent, Orkish crew died, and bit by bit the Gorkamonsta collapsed. Rhinos, Thunderhawks, and other transports swarmed the disabled behemoth. Releasing more than two Clans worth of Astartes into its bulk. The Gorkamonsta died a slow ugly death of a million cuts.
While this brutal fate claimed the Gorkamonsta, its twin the blue splattered Morkamonsta dueled the surviving Titans. The Talos Adamants fighting bolt and blade to avenge the fallen Nuada. Scans of the Gorkamonsta innards were added to the Titans tactical assessment. No two Orkish creations were identical but having a sense of where weak points *might* be proved useful. Morkamonsta was less aggressive than its twin, not charging headlong into a fight, content to use its overwhelming firepower, and thick armor to grind down Imperial Titans.
Literally, thousands of Titan class weapons festooned the War-Idol, and its Capital Titan-sized arms were armed with tools of destruction more suited for a Battleship. Its left arm was equipped with a dreadful Xeno combiweapon, part Gatling cannon, part gravity whip. The Gatling-cannon would shred apart a Titan's shield leaving it open for a lash of green energy to attach to it. With a flick of the Morkamonsta's bulk, it could send a bound Titan flying, using God-Machines as wrecking balls. A sight I had the misfortune of witnessing as a Battle Titan known as the Ur-Lomond was dragged through a battleline of its siblings before tossed up into the air and brought smashing down on an unlucky squad of Boralais Tanks. When the Morkamonsta got bored tossing Titans about it would drag them close, bringing them into range of the Voidship cutting chain-sword and army melting flamespewer on its other arm. Half a dozen titans met their fate to this combined assault. Forming a trail of molten metal and shredded scrap around the Morkamonsta.
Petty spiteful cruelty is a long known trait of the Greenskins. Something this Morkamonsta embodied in its vicious assault on the Titan Legions. Falling into a pattern of "playing" with human lives like the legendary Gigants of Aegean mythos. Yet much like those beasts of myth, engaging in simple savagery is predictable. A weakness exploited by the now legendary Wolfhound Class Scout Titan known as the Celtchar-Rex. To those unfamiliar with titanlore, the Wolfhound Class is designed for close quarter crippling strikes. Built to move faster than its cousins and hit harder than them as well, at the cost of durability. Only the bravest or maddest Princeps dared bond with these Titans. A description quite apt for Princep Primus Toole-74. Who pulled off one of the most daring feats during the Battle of Rust.
Toole-74 directed her Titan to leap in front of a gravity-whip meant for a damaged Capital Titan. The Celtchar-Rex was pulled forward towards the Morkamonsta with a terrifying force. Far more than was necessary for the Scout Titan. Instead of being pulled off balance or dragged as a Capital Titan would be by such strength. Celtchar-Rex was launched into the air and towards the Morkamonsta. Mico jets designed for balance and low-G maneuvering aimed the Scout-Titan at the hive-sized skull structure of its foe. A carefully timed surge from Celtchar-Rex's shields severed the Gravity Whip and let the Titan strike true. Moving faster than the Morkamonsta's crew could react but slow enough to bypass its shields, the Warhound Scout Titan struck the War-Idol's face. A Powerlance rammed right into the super-lumen eye of the Greenskin weapon shattering the glowing red sphere.
The Lance's power field did its work and started to cut through the Morkamonsta's eye and eventually its hide as Celtchar-Rex dragged down its face. All while firing wildly with the Titans mega-bolter. Leaving a scar of shredded metal and trail of pockmarks. Falling and cutting its way down the War-Idol's form the Scout Titan did little actual damage but proved a severe nuisance for the Orkish weapon. In her later memoirs, Toole-74 revealed that was her goal in the first place, to buy the other Titans time to regroup and prepare to strike back. She had no idea what was about to happen and how her act of suicidal bravery helped turn the tide of battle. Despite layers of psycho-organic augmentation, incredibly advanced mechanical knowledge, and a natural skill for war, the Orks are at their core angry stupid beasts. Requiring the rare cruel genius of Warbosses and similar to reach their full dark potential. It is because of this that Orks sometimes make incredibly idiotic decisions.
For example, the decision to try and swat away Celtchar-Rex decided by some unknown Ork attempting to sate its bloodlust and do its duty, in the most foolish possible way. Morkamonsta's massive chainsword arm flew up towards its face, hoping to squash the attacking Scout Titan. Celtchar-Rex barely slid underneath the leviathan-weapon as it smashed into the War-Idol's head. Tearing metal screamed louder than any warhorn as Morkamonsta started to decapitate itself by complete accident. Utter chaos ensued as wires and signal relays were severed. The chainsword cut deeper and deeper, its Knight-Walker-sized teeth digging into the Morkamonsta's mechanical flesh. Severing key connections and disabling entire systems, including its primary shields. Celtchar-Rex barely had enough time to get free of the Xeno city-monster before the assembled Titans opened fire. Inflicting cunning and brutal death for both War-Idols of the Orks.
When Gorkamonsta and Morkamonsta were reduced to smoldering mountains of slag, the Titans and Astartes joined the Auxilia and pushed back against the Orkish hordes. Casualties were bad on both sides but we were winning. The Stormbringers had fulfilled their name and would not stop until the Storm of fire and iron had cleaned the Orkish stain from this world. Under orders of my Chieftain, Shadrak Smyth the Stormbingers and other Imperial forces did not push deeper into the industrial-nest of Green-Forge-Beta. Instead butchering any Ork who dared get close to the gap in the walls, while turning said gap into a veritable fortress. Any Ork that exited the vast mechanical sprawl into the flatlands where the jagged gate had once been, died. I did not know the reason for not pushing forward the offense, but I trusted Shadrak completely, A feeling I know was shared across the entire assaulting force.
This trust paid off approximately fourteen hours after the destruction of the jagged gate. An explosion of green lighting erupted from the peak of Green-Forge-Beta and the massive Gravity-harpoon flickered out of existence, along with the feral green glow from the peak. Moments later the other Gravity-Harpoons shut off, Thunderhead was saved, she was damaged but nothing the Mechancium adepts could not fix. Then a strange broadcast filled the vox-frequencies. It addressed both Imperial and Ork communications alike. Something sounding like the mixture of a Machine-Spirit dying and a wild swine being speared echoed across the Vox. Lasting an uncomfortably long time before finally ending with a wet crunch. The vox went silent for a moment before the familiar lilting growl of the Tenth Primarch started.
"That was the sound of Wyattboss Zakga dying. I ripped the shriveled husk of his body from the main computation node and burned him till his thrashing broke his own atrophied neck. His skull is so malformed it won't even make a good trophy, I guess I'll have to look for one elsewhere. The Storm of reckoning has arrived, run fast Xeno-scum for nothing will stop it. Children of Sol! Kill every last Xenobreed and burn the carcasses."
I do not know how much of the message the Orks could understand, but enough to know their leader was dead and they were next. A sudden shift spread across the Greenskins, manic excitement and bloodlust became sheer animal-panic. They were afraid, and the psychic network uniting them broke with the Wyattboss's death. Billions of Orks all across Rust dropped whatever they were doing and turned to run. Storms of shoddy ships rocketed into the void, joining the nearly concluded battle in orbit. Becoming easy prey for Imperial ships, I hear some talented fighter pilots doubled their kill count cutting through the Orkish stampede into Space. The situation back on the surface was not much different, Chieftain Shadrak had expected this moment. The panicked Greentide poured down in the millions to where the jagged gate once stood. Right into the overlapping fire of Titans, Tanks, Artillery, Auxillia, and Astartes.
This was no longer a battle, this was extermination. Cleansing of this world of the monsters who had coveted it. I do not know what biological or psychic flaw makes the Orks devolve into such cowardly beasts once the local leader dies. I know some Adepts theorize it is the equivalent of the great network of Greenskin souls short-circuiting. Misfiring of the spiritual energy grid connecting the Orks and momentarily reducing them back to their most basic form. Until a new beast could dominate enough of its kind to complete the now broken circuit. Such matters fall to the Genetor and their kind, my duty is not to explain the collapse but record it.
It took several months to hack and blast through the literally billions of Orks on Rust. Many times the Greenskins attempted to rally together and fight back but these resurgent groups just as likely fought each other as us. The Warlairds of the Stormbringers had each led an assault on a different Forge site. Eliminating all of the Wyattbosses lieutenants while their Genefather dealt with the Xeno leader himself. Leaving the Orks without clear leadership and easy pickings for the Imperium. Great pyres of burning Ork bodies blotted out the Sun of Rust for days on end and a million Orkish skulls were collected from the best specimens. Enough trophies for X Crusader Fleet and eventually hundreds of museums across the galaxy.
For his actions during the battle Chieftain Shadrak was commended and put into consideration for promotion to Warlaird. A title he would finally gain approximately two decades later during some of the worst fighting of the Beast Wars. I would be right alongside him the whole time, doing my part to document him and his legion. As my shuttle left the surface of Rust to return to the Crusader Fleet I found myself feeling strangely hopeful and worried at the same time. I had seen what the Imperium could do facing the wrath of the Orks and it was incredible. While I had also seen the nightmarish power of the Xenos. X Crusader Fleet would now be journeying deeper into the Golgothan Wastes, Rust had been a factory world for the unfathomable Orkish empire waiting for us. Where weapons were designed and created in the billions. Somewhere in the Wastes awaited armies those weapons had been meant for, and I had to suppress a shudder as my mind replayed the sound of Orkish fury echoing through the stars. "WAAAGH!!!"
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