We cannot save them; they are already dead or dying. What they would know after this is not life. It is better we hasten their fate, Vaia. Lupus told her. He was as reluctant as her to do it, but they had no choice. It would be a mercy, of sorts.
When the legionnaires’ guns ran empty and the Gore Prince seemed ready to attack again, they threw the plasma grenades and withdrew from the room, unwilling to join the doom of the Phantom. Seconds later, the remaining columns were brought down in explosive fashion, destabilising the immense roof they once sustained. Lupus dared to stay a moment longer, witnessing the rage of the Gore Prince as it began to realise its peril.
“I am not the only one!” It screamed at him. “There are hundreds more waiting to feed on the flesh of your precious human sheep! We will devour you all, Apostle!”
With one last look as the roof began to collapse on the Gore Prince, Lupus felt nothing but vile hatred.
The Underrealm awaits you, Phantom. That is something even your kind fear.
Then he left, leaving the monster to its deathly fate. As he joined the legionnaires outside, he saw the ruined city in its whole for the first time. There were more dead Guardians than his heart could accept, but he knew they hadn’t died in vain. As parts of the command echelon joined up with him, he felt a part of him grow wiser, stronger and warier.
The Purge Crusades were finally over, but the learning curve had just taken its steepest rise yet.
SCIPIO FOCUSSED ON bringing his senses back to his control as the banging against the Warhound’s access hatch faded suddenly away. He heard the sound of a dozen whispers of pain, as if they were really screams carried over a hundred miles.
His instincts told him not to put his rifle down and though the hatch began to ease open, the way it was designed to and without force, he felt safer to still be grasping it in his hands. Had his discipline been any less than it was, he would have unloaded everything in his clip into the leering, shadowy face that came into his view. Nero and Vorlo were equally prepared to kill.
“Hold your fire” a familiar voice ordered them.
Scipio couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved or exasperated.
“Commander,” he panted. “We could have shot you apart”.
Aspasian, commander of the 21st, jumped down into the crew compartment of the Warhound and sat down next to him.
“I wouldn’t suggest you do that, Scipio, there’s no-one else smart enough in the 21st to replace me” he smiled.
The three of them looked at each other tentatively; their nerves were highly sprung, expecting to meet their ends at the end of a paradigm and golem horde, but they’d been met with salvation from their own. They broke into nervous laughter and sat back in their seats, a flood of stress flowing off them like water.
“Thank you, Sir, for saving us” Nero breathed.
Aspasian took out a small flask and a black cigar. Drinking deep, he passed it round to his legionnaires. He kept the nicotine to himself.
“You know I’d do anything for the 21st, fools as you all may be. You’re just lucky my platoon was nearby to drag you out of this mess” he replied. “Anyway, while we were dallying around with this stupid ambush, word from the front is that it’s all over. The Lion found the Phantom chief, they say. Abhorrent beast, apparently. Arcadius of the 617th claims we wouldn’t believe what it was”.
Though happy for his friend’s share of the glory, Scipio was disappointed in himself. In truth, they all were. They had wanted to be a part of the last assault just as much as he did, but they had all fallen into an obvious trap. They should have known better.
“But we lost more men. Too many, I’d say. In a war of attrition – and make no mistake, that’s what this is – we can’t afford to have the fewer numbers. I think the Lion’s finally realised that, though. Olympus said he’d never seen the Apostle look so aghast before”.
The legionnaires said nothing, surprised to hear the effects that the final confrontation had on the Lion. He’d been human himself once of course, but the Blessing was supposed to have changed that. He was a demi-god now, so it was said. Yet, maybe he did still have a trace of his birth race in him after all.
“Well…isn’t there any good news anymore?” Vorlo asked in jest.
“Isn’t the end of the Purge Crusades enough for you, Vorlo?” Scipio laughed.
Aspasian looked at them and grinned. “Actually, there’s more”.
The legionnaires looked at him expectantly.
“Rumour has it, gentlemen, that the other Apostles have been found”. Aspasian held each of their gazes in turn. “We’re going to the Aurora Sector. We’re finally going to unite with them and our brother legions”.
His only answer was their stunned silence.
Chapter 7
WHEN LUPUS ORDERED the legions under his command to withdraw from Dystopian, he did so with a heavy heart. They had suffered at the hands of the Phantoms, a legion almost made extinct, and yet…an excited part of him urged to be heard. He found it hard to choose one emotion over the over, but as his Stormfalcon approached and docked with the Luminon, he could no longer resist the overwhelming anticipation of finally meeting the other Apostles.
Still, as the transport touched down on the deck of the hangar bay, he had to know something. The Gore Prince had been a surprise both to him and the Guardians that were with him. “The Phantom archetype that I faced down there…” he said to Sabre. “Why didn’t the legionnaires with me recognise it?”
Arcadius had been on the surface of Colossi when they last fought the war against the Great Enemy, surely he must have known what it was, but it was as unknown to him as Lupus.
The commander had obviously given that some thought since they emerged from the ruined building in the capital and shared what they had found. “Perhaps the Phantoms found a way to mutate themselves” he suggested.
“This Dimension changed them, more like” Olympus contended. “It wouldn’t be a doubtful bet to say they sensed the carnage the Empire was built on. Fear and death are energies of their own, my Lord, and they can change a creature into something…worse”.
At the time Lupus had to accept the explanation because there was nothing better, but now he began to truly believe in what Olympus had said. The thing had torn through the squad with mocking ease. Despite the clawing visions swimming through his mind of an enemy now unknown and unpredictable, he fought to put his concerns aside, though one nagging question remained. What else don’t the legions know?
Nevertheless, he knew now was not the time to pursue such issues and to dwell on the dead. He would mourn for those he had lost, as he always did, but now he had to be strong again. His legions had to see that he was focussed on the present.
Lupus received the news of the discovery not long after leaving the ruined city hall of Paroxia. Despite how trusting and overjoyed he should have felt, the Crusades had taught him nothing if not caution and his first direction was to clarify the authenticity of the claim. He’d gone over ten years without any trace of his brothers and sisters; it seemed odd that only now they should be found, right when the first taste of war was at its end.
“My Lord, we cannot be mistaken,” Valerian had insisted down on the surface of Dystopian. The Recon Master had regrouped with the Apostle after scouring the city for the last of the enemy presence, but there was very little game to it. “There is a massive, irrefutably psychic beacon resonating from the Aurora Sector. It’s calling to it all the legions and Apostles, to every corner of the Empire. There is no error in our interpretation of the energy source, my Lord; your brethren have been found”.
Lupus had never found a reason to distrust Valerian, nor any of his legionnaires, but it didn’t seem to add up. “Is it not possible that this a trick played by the Great Enemy? We scanned that Sector years before Valerian; aside from three scarcely Gothican-populated worlds, there was nothing but barren rocks. Even then, the humans seemed eager to leave; it is a cursed place, my friend” Lupus replie
d. He wanted to be certain that this wasn’t just another ploy of the enemy, even though reason told him he had just slain the last of the free Phantoms only hours ago.
“My Lord, the enemy has never possessed psychic power on this scale. The Auranair did. She must have passed that aspect onto an Apostle” Valerian reasoned.
Waiting patiently, but sensing it was the right time for his input, Sabre spoke up at Valerian’s side. “My Lord, you’ve seen the forms of all the Twelve; is this ability too unfamiliar to belong to one of the other Chosen?”
Lupus closed his eyes and rubbed his head uncertainly. “I have vague perceptions of them, Sabre, little more. But this beacon, whatever it is calling to us…it does feel familiar”.
Despite his trepidation Lupus had decided to pursue the beacon for better or worse. He reasoned that even if this was some kind of ruse, a way of bringing as many Guardians that would hear it to one place, he had twenty battle-hardened legions at his back to confront them. There were dozens more that had made themselves known to the 617th, and hundreds more still to appear. Whether friendly or hostile, the messenger would be met with a force unseen for many years.
Now that they were back on the bridge of the Luminon, Lupus felt the expectation of his legionnaires hang heavy in the air. He wasn’t the only one that would naturally feel excited; if they were indeed about to meet his brethren, they would be equally in awe of them, even if they couldn’t ever attain the same bond with the Chosen as he could. If the psychic beacon was genuine, it not only meant finding at least one of the Apostles, but there would surely be scores more legions with them under their command.
Captain Orion orchestrated the reformation of the fleet, a process that required dogmatic attention and meticulous communication with the other captains. The Gothicans would have called him an Admiral, Lupus was sure, but the Guardians knew no such rank. Perhaps one would have to be made. Orion arranged the fleet into a spearhead cluster from which they could defend themselves if the whole thing proved to be a deadly ambush.
The twenty-legion strong fleet consisted once again from the replenished forces of the 212th, what little of them remained at least. Fewer than five hundred of those legionnaires had survived the Purge Crusades, but they were determined to re-join the fight and Lupus had no reason to deny them that honour.
There were now several dozen ships in the amalgamated fleet. The Luminon remained as the only Blackstar class and there was yet no adequate replacement of the Heaven’s Lament, despite the need for her in the last decade of fighting, but the forces arrayed were still formidable and self-sustained. At least a third of the fleet were the destroyer class, another third frigates and light cruisers. The frigates more often than not had filled the role of medical class ships, the massive void left by the 237th legion’s absence too crucial to neglect. The remaining vessels were carriers with vast squadrons of Voidhawk fighters, Earthbreaker bombers and infantry units at their disposal.
Inside the Primary Tactical Hall, Lupus waited with the command echelon of the 617th. It had naturally flown that the legion was at the top of the chain, though others had noble enough claims to join that honour. But now, at the end of the Crusades and the beginning of a new era, Lupus wanted only the 617th with him; the commanders of the remaining nineteen legions were needed with their troops. He had no doubt that should a quick deployment be necessary, it was better the officers were already with their troops than not.
Upon evident completion of the fleet organisation, something the massive holo-table of the PTH showed them, Lupus thumbed a comms device nearby and spoke to Orion. “Do we have a lock on the beacon?”
“Yes, my Lord. The fleet stands ready to jump” Orion replied, no sign of mental exertion in his voice despite having had no sleep for days.
Lupus regarded the commanders around him with restrained eagerness. Sabre met his gaze and nodded his agreement. Olympus copied the gesture along with Valerian; this chance had to be taken and they all knew it. Lupus thumbed the communicator on the top of the holo-table again and spoke the words that would change the state of the legions forever.
“Take us in, Orion”.
LUPUS COULD SENSE the field of energy that wrapped itself around the Luminon as it jumped away from the Abodian Sector and toward the Aurora. He couldn’t admit to knowing how it worked, exactly; ultimately, no-one but the gods who had created the legions’ fleets at the very beginning, could understand it. It saddened him to know that the only reason the legions didn’t have a grasp over much of their own technology was simply because the war against the Great Enemy was supposed to end at Colossi. Coming to the Gothican Dimension had been a disastrous accident, Sabre had told him ruefully.
In the most basic explanation, a cloak would cover the ship from head to tail, appearing as only another glimmering layer of shielding. When the ship’s main engines fired, the energy streamlined the vessel, allowing it to be propelled through normal space a thousand times more quickly. If enough power was diverted from the ship systems to the engines, jumps between sectors could be made in a matter of hours. This was what made jumping to another Sector so easy for them; redeployment took days at the most, if security and defence were a concern, rather than the months or even years that human vessels would need. It was a fearsome level of technology, one that the legionnaires were better off hiding from the Empire.
Lupus had insisted that on this trip there was little need for caution. He commanded Orion to force the fleet into its fastest transit ever, every ship draining its systems and feeding the power back into their engines. The jump between the Abodian and Aurora Sectors should have taken them days. Instead, it took them less than an hour. Of course, there had been objections. It was to be expected. But he had a feeling in his gut by then; this was no trap, and they could afford to arrive with their defences down. Surrounded by their allies and long lost brethren, they would have all the time in the world to regenerate their systems if it proved to be a trap.
There was a tangible snap of force, as if the energy coat recoiled from the sheer speed it forced the Blackstar through space, when the Luminon slowed down and completed its jump. The journey may have been short, but in that time Lupus had discussed potential strategies and tactics to employ if they were really being led into a trap. They decided that if he was wrong, despite the eerie tendency for his instincts to be proven right, the armour of the fleet could withstand enemy fire long enough to jump away again. At least, the majority of ships could. It was a price worth paying.
As the Luminon entered normal space again, there was a painfully slow moment of anticipation as Lupus and the legionnaires waited for the ship’s systems to recover, start receiving data, process it and project it through the holo-table in the PTH.
“We have returned to normspace, my Lord” Orion announced on their arrival. He kept the communication channel open, but his voice was distant as if he was sharing part of his attention with someone else on the bridge.
“Valerian confirms it,” the captain continued. “We have arrived in the Aurora Sector near the planet the psychic beacon emanates from. It seems the entire fleet was pulled towards it; we have arrived in perfect formation”. The Guardians were pretty accurate with their jump translations, but rarely did ships arrive in exactly the same positions as they departed.
As Orion spoke to them a three-dimensional picture of the world he mentioned appeared above the holo-table. Gradually dots began to show up alongside it. Some seemed to orbit the planet on patrol, while others were in defensive clusters further afield.
“Valerian, identify those ships” Lupus ordered through the channel to the bridge. The Recon Master had moved to the bridge during the jump from the Abodian Sector to better understand what the Luminon’s sensors were showing them.
It took a few minutes before his task could be completed, but the dots soon resolved distinctly into vessels of various shapes and sizes.
“Identity confirmed, my Lord. They are legion ships, it seems. All of them. No huma
n or Phantom presence detected” Valerian declared.
There were hundreds of them, easily ten times the size of Lupus’ forces when combined. Several dozen Blackstars appeared, more than any of the legionnaires beside him had seen since the Battle of Colossi. There were whole squadrons of destroyers, several scores of frigates and a huge collection of carriers all pregnant with Voidhawks, Earthbreakers and Stormfalcons.
There was no doubt that at least a hundred legions were present, if not more. Lupus knew that this was the biggest gathered fleet in Guardian history since the time-lock had been activated and he didn’t need any more evidence to tell him that the beacon was what they had hoped it to be; the other Apostles were here, that much was obvious. His fleet was quickly approaching those vessels surrounding the planet and he pre-empted the inevitable.
“Captain, redirect all ship-to-ship communications to the PTH” Lupus said.
“As you wish, my Lord” Orion acquiesced, a hint of disappointment in his voice that he would not be the first to speak with the newfound legions.
The holo-table began to crackle as it received a signal, casting a hazy image of a legionnaire before Lupus and his command echelon. The hologram seemed to wobble and distort for a second before settling down and becoming cohesive, revealing a female legionnaire. She was beautiful with thick black hair flowing to just past her shoulders. She wore armour that was more ornate than any legionnaire of the 617th. Where Sabre’s plating was simple, hers rounded off into shapes of flame and fire. Where Olympus wore purple stripes to mark his allegiance, she was wreathed in orange.
“My name is Commander Akurei of the 77th Fireblades Legion, under the leadership of the Apostle Phoenix. Identify yourselves, lest we declare you our enemy” she demanded, hands clasped behind her back calmly.
Lupus couldn’t help but smile. He completely ignored the commander’s disrespect and ignorance. He cared about only one thing that she had confirmed for him; it was clear beyond all doubt that his brethren were here.
The Deian War: Vermillion's Apostles Page 20