Editing The Tales of the Emperasque: Part Fourteen (section)

==6-111-001-M42==
Tyranids are not of our worlds. They crawl and fly, from beyond the outermost edges of the Galaxy of Man, pulled towards us by gravity and hunger alike. Some of the Archmagos Biologus of the Mechanicum speculate them to be an unthinkably powerful alien bioweapon, perhaps unleashed as an act of desperation in another galaxy and spread beyond control. Others think them to be a form of gestalt community, with “clans” exchanging biomass and genes as they congregate in galaxy after galaxy, drifting around the Local Group, devouring all in their path.<br>
Whatever their origin, they are as alien as anything in this galaxy untainted by Change. Their minds are a gestalt, as alien and vast as their very species, and as immune to the powers of the Warp as anything that lives can be.<br>
The Emperor found this to be, at most, a mild inconvenience.<br>
The massive, scaly Lord of Man stood on the edge of a ragged cliff, staring out at a massive battlefield. The ground was ringed with small semicircles of sandbags and concrete blocks, lined with shallow trenches, and coated in dead fleshborers. Heaps of dead Guardsmen and PDF dotted the field, as the Rippers and Hormagaunts dragged corpses together for digestion. Shrapnel and shot sent up tiny puffs of dust wherever they landed, or gouged flesh where they found their mark. The Guard and PDF were clearly putting up a good fight, but they were never going to hold out until Elysius and Lokris arrived.

The horrible shriek of a Manticore missile salvo broke through the din and clamor of battle. A mushroom of red flame erupted at the edge of the battlefield, incinerating the growing digestor pool, even as the last few lines of Guardsmen fell back before the encroaching waves of chitin.<br>
“WELL, THAT’S QUITE ENOUGH,” the Emperor said, cricking his neck and bracing against the rock wall. With a minute effort, he sent a ravening beam of purple energy cascading over the battlefield. The first several groups of Tyranids evaporated, even as the Hive Mind awoke to the threat on its flank. A few Guard survivors noticed what was going on, and screamed orders and coordinates into their voxes, presumably retargeting those Manticores. The Emperor wasn’t greatly concerned, shifting his aim away from them, into the packed hordes of Tyranid creatures.

The bioforms reacted instantly, throwing themselves at the Emperor, with several dozen Vultures and Gargoyles swooping down from above. The Emperor swept his gigantic arm above his head, swatting the flying beasts with clear disdain. “BEGONE, BEASTS.” The rearmost creature – no less than a carnifex – spat an orb of bioplasma forth, splattering over the ground at the Emperor’s feet. In response, he shifted his baleful gaze in its direction, sending it staggering from a wave of psychic energy.<br>
The Guardsmen below gaped at the carnage. “What…a daemon? Firing on Tyranids? What’s happening?” one of them managed, watching in awed terror as the battle played out.<br>
“Don’t be distracted, soldier!” their Commissar barked. “Keep firing on the ‘Nids, we’ll use the Deathstrike on the Daemon. It’s the only way to be sure.”<br>
“…But, sir, we’re less than two hundred meters from that daemon,” the soldier responded slowly.<br>
“And taking a Greater Daemon with us will be worth it!” the political officer roared, firing his laspistol at the horde of Rippers that had kept up the assault on the Imperial position. “We can go before the Throne with heads held high knowing we bested that thing! Now FIGHT!”<br>
The Emperor finished off the pack of Tyranids nearest him, nodding in satisfaction. “A GOOD START.” Abruptly, he noted the sound of the lasgun fire from the Imperial position had ended, as the last of the Rippers fell to concentrated lasgun fire.

Immediately, the Guardsmen switched their fire to the Emperor, scattering lasbolts over him. He sighed irritably. “STOP IT. DON’T YOU GUYS WATCH THE NEWS?”<br>
“Ignore his wiles, men! Turn your thoughts to victory!” the Commissar cried, flourishing his chainsword overhead.<br>
“I MEAN IT.” The Emperor glanced upwards, wondering if maybe the regional commanders would be more reasonable. His eyes widened in astonishment as a distant metal pinprick resolved itself overhead. “…YOU CALLED IN A NUKE ON YOUR OWN POSITION? WHAT THE FUCK?” He stared at the Guardsmen, still apparently quite willing to die to take him down. “OK, MAYBE I SHOULD HAVE CALLED AHEAD.” He tilted his head back to point at the missile, firing his energy beam once more, vaporizing the Deathstrike before it could come in range. Deciding to leave before they could get off another salvo, he opened a rift and moved through, the Guardsmen still firing in his wake.<br>
Floating through the Warp towards the Imperial command post, the Emperor reflected that maybe he should have identified himself BEFORE joining the fight, and resolved to do so as soon as he arrived.