Editing 97th Conglomerate's Tyrannic War (section)

== Day 14 ==
=== Part 1 - Calm Before The Storm ===

''Well...'' Samson thought to himself. ''This has gone surprisingly well so far.'' He looked down to Natasha’s head resting on his bare chest, her lips just about touching the tip of the left wing of his aquila tattoo. While Samson remained wary of the lack of assault by the enemy, he and his sergeant had become very close. 

As the dull early morning twilight spilled into the quarters through the small window slits at the top of the walls, Samson couldn’t help but smirk. Natasha had worked out an agreement with Hanz and Grayson for them to vacate the bunk room in favour of another one every few nights. Grayson initially had protested until she had threatened to let slip that the Catachan had been sleeping with the Colonel’s daughter. So, he complied and now her and Samson had enjoyed 4 nights together alone. Samson turned slightly to look at the chronometer to see how off it was, as the day/night cycle of this world did not agree with the regiments 24-hour system. As he turned, Natasha roused somewhat. 

“What’s wrong, darling?” She lulled in her sleepy voice. Samson turned to look down at her again as she lazily rolled to straddle him. She turned her head upwards to rest her chin on his sternum, her tired blue eyes looking into his.

“Nothing.” He lied. He had been awake for a couple hours now and his mind had been asking more questions than he could find answers for. “I was just checking the time.”

“Why bover? You know it’s wrong anyway.” She pouted slightly with her lips as she nuzzled into his chest. Samson never thought he’d see his sergeant like this, but he also knew he’d never see her like he did before either. 

“Come on.” He said, moving the blanket off of them. “Let’s get ready for muster.”

It was around noon locally, and Cronus stood over the tacticarium table. The other company commanders stood around, a gathering of the 18 different companies of the 97th. All looked at Cronus, who was not only commander of the first company but also the regimental commander. The tacticarium table was lit up with 3-dimensional figures and runes denoting meaning to the information. All the officers scanned the data with their eyes, all made uncomfortable by what they saw. Samson and the rest of the squad sat in the corner on high stools around a high table, Grayson shifting with discomfort from the silence. 
The tacticarium room of the Sector 1 Command Bunker was almost cavernous, able to easily fit all of the company commanders plus some of their choice retinues. Cronus was the only one with full retinue, accompanied also by Lady Commissar Aurelia and his regimental advisors. 

“Just... It doesn’t...” Cronus pushed off the table, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “It makes no sense.”With the silence broken the company commanders milled about more comfortably. Some grabbed coffee from a table to the side, other stepped outside for a cigarette. Cronus grabbed his mug from the table and walked over to the squad in the corner, followed by the Lady Commissar.

“Alright, being honest, I wasn’t half paying attention so please,” Grayson said with a tone of sarcasm. “Enlighten me?”

“The swarm... they aren’t attacking.” Lady Commissar began with a glare at the Catachan. 

“What do you mean ‘not attacking’? I’ve had to pop shots off at whole platoon-sized formations poking to find a hole in the line.” Grayson responded, disbelieving. Aurelia shot him an extremely annoyed glance. She contemplated physically dragging him to the table and shoving his face into it, but she restrained herself. 

“You see that big red blob 100 kilometres out?” She pointed, talking to him like an idiot, her voice laced with disdain. She then crossed her arms and looked at the display suspiciously. “That’s the primary concentration of the Tyranid biomass. For whatever reason, they don’t feel like moving. They’re waiting for something.” 

“So how do we plan to deal with it?” Natasha butted in from the corner table, other company commanders have drawn their attention to the incredulous Commissar and Catachan. To this, Cronus replied. 

“We are sending out a bike-mounted scout detachment from 3rd Company, I believe.” He sipped his coffee thoughtfully. “They will be departing tomorrow morning. In the meantime, most of the companies will be redeploying to this side of the city due to the lack of enemy presence elsewhere. No activity has been reported at all on the western side of the city, and with the walls and guns behind us on the eastern side here we have a better chance of holding them. If we get lucky, the enemy will push soon and we can crush them through overwhelming firepower.”

“And if that doesn’t work?” Hanz spoke up for the first time all day. The gathering eyed the pallid Krieger uncomfortably, silence settling between the guardsmen.

None of the squad members stuck around for an answer. Samson was the first to stand and make for the door, Natasha close behind. Grayson walked away from the tacticarium and Hanz was slow to follow. As Samson stepped out into the dull light and almost immediately began to sweat through his fatigues. The air had become stuffy and hot over the past few days, the clouds slowly blushing to a sickly green hue. Samson hadn’t decided where he was walking to yet, he just knew he could no longer stand the high-collared officers and brass that filled the command bunker. He started in the direction of the forward Aegis Line to where PDF crews were digging trenches directly in front of the wall of metal. Grayson and Hanz broke away to go carry on with their own business while Natasha caught up to Samson’s brisk pace. She went to ask him a question, but he beat her to it.

“Okay, so this is going to seem random.” Samson began, slowing down to a more casual pace to accommodate for Natasha’s height. “Do you remember the night before we deployed that we - well, you - got drunk and I had to walk you to your personal quarters?”

“Vaaaaaguely...” Natasha replied, the details foggy in her head due to her drunkenness. 

“If those were your quarters that I walked you to, then why were you in the barracks my first morning on the ship?” At this, Natasha stopped dead and went wide-eyed with fright. “What?”

“Samson, you know how I have a reputation amongst the company?” She asked lightly, knowing it displeased him. 

“Who were you sleeping with?” He asked with a deep sigh.

“Does it matter?” She asked, wanting to avoid the subject. “We used the barracks to avoid prying eyes because, well, they were normally empty.”

“I guess that’s fair.” He concluded. 

As they walked, they both breathed in the stink on the air that filled the noses of everyone. Samson looked out at the vehicle pools briefly, watched as the scout bikers loaded their saddlebags for departure the next morning. To him, something felt off. This world was changing and there was nothing they could do to stop it.

=== Part 2 - Hull Breach ===

Captain Jarrus sat in the command throne of the mining vessel ''Rampart'', his aging eyes scanning the bridge around him. The ship was not extremely large, but aboard it were mountable trajectory thruster meant to move asteroids into new paths. He looked out the front viewport and found the prey of his hunt: an asteroid 70 km wide. 

“Helmsman, bring us into tethering range of that asteroid.” He commanded tiredly. 

He had been awake for hours now, at least since they’d reached the edge of the asteroid belt in this system. None of the pickings were particularly what he needed, as they were either too small to do enough damage to exact Exterminatus or too large to be tethered and moved by the ''Rampart''. 

“Aye sir.” The helmsman replied curtly, punching control runes into her console and they felt the ship’s momentum adjust to the new trajectory. 

“Sir...” One of the other bridge crew who manned the radar station chimed in from the other end of the bridge, off to the Captain’s right. 

“What is it, Dural?” Jarrus asked, annoyed that his train of thought had been interrupted. 

“I have a lot of motion, of our starboard side about 100 kilometres out to our 2 o’clock.” They replied meekly, a tone of worry in their voice. 

“Fine, get past the object blocking our view, and we’ll see what it is. That’ll continue us on our course to the target, correct?” Jarrus implied the question to his helmsman, who nodded in response. 

A few moments pass, half the bridge crew tense while Jarrus himself had tunnel vision on the asteroid. 20 seconds had passed and they finally passed the smaller asteroid blocking their view of the radar’s signatures. The sight shocked the bridge crew and a collective panic settled in.

“CONTACTS! WE HAVE ENEMY CONTACTS!” Captain Jarrus shouted at the top of his lungs, keying the shipwide vox as he did this. 

He leapt from his command throne down to the weapons and damage control stations to look over the shoulders of the operators. A hive ship and several smaller tyranid bioforms were gaining careening towards the mining vessel with surprising speed. Several small fighter-looking creatures were already almost within striking range of the ship, glowing acid visible through the membranes of their enormous necks. Jarrus keyed the nearest vox rune.

“All hands, battlestations!” He called, releasing the rune before yelling into the ears of the gunners next to him. “Fire all defensive laser batteries, don’t let them touch us!”

Red lines of light beamed from ball turrets on the ships exterior, cutting a disintegrating swath of heat across the nearest acid belching fighters. Their bodies boiled in the vacuum of space and glowing green acid exploded from them, the trajectory already making contact with the ship’s hull. An audible but not quite felt thud slapped the armour plating as a sizzling sound was heard somewhere. The larger ships had moved into range and long mandibles had opened to reveal monstrous maws, hungering for the vessel’s metal. 

“BRACE FOR IMPACT!” A crewman called as a set of mandibles clamped down. 

The groan of metal was deafening as the ship’s hull cracked and buckled under the immense force. The ''Rampart'' rocked and kicked, bridge crew thrown from their chairs and Jarrus tossed from his feet. His body crashed backwards and he landed at the foot of the steps up to the command throne, blood trailing from his temple. 

“HULL BREACH! HULL BREACH!” One of the bridge crew yelled out as they pulled themselves up to their console.

“NO SHIT!” Jarrus barked angrily as another bite was taken out of the ship, rocking everyone back to the ground. He clawed his way up to his throne and keyed the vox. “Abandon ship! All hands aban-” 

An explosion from midship ripped through the superstructure and the world seemed to explode into chaos and fire. Consoles exploded and wires snapped and crackled with electricity, sparks flying and flames blistering and popping. The front viewport glass cracked ever so slightly, and Jarrus held his breath. He knew what was coming. A second explosion rocked the vessel and an audible roar of pain came from the xeno abomination gutting its prey. The glass shattered and a sound like a hurricane ripped the bridge crew from their bridge. Many tried to grab onto their chairs and hold on for dear life, but their efforts were futile as they watched their captain fly past them, nothing in his reach to grab. His fingers brushed past the helmsman’s shoulder, screams and fire and terror filling his ears. 

He was sucked out of the bridge and all sound stopped. He felt his body breaking, wanting to explode outwards from the pressure. His lungs were on fire as the air was sucked from them. In his final moments he pleaded that the Emperor would forgive him for his failure, and then a flash of light caught his eye. Behind the Tyranid fleet, red ships, glorious in their size and gleaming as they exited the Warp. A gauntlet wreathed in flames was emblazoned on the high towers of the battle barge. The Emperor, God of Mankind, had heard his prayers and answered with righteous, flaming fury as torpedoes and macrocannons and lasers tore into the bioforms. He released his grip and closed his eyes. His body would never be found, and he was at peace with that.

=== Part 3 - Deliverance ===

“My Lord...” A tall, broad figure in dark red robes approached Chapter Master Vulcanus, or as the title was in the Infernal Guard, ''The Shepherd Of Fire'', from behind as he stood aboard the bridge of the flagship, ''Emperor’s Fire''. “What course of action shall we take?”

He had been watching as the Space Marine fleet dropped out of warp on the unsuspecting Tyranid bioships. How the creatures had not felt the warp presence before they dropped, he did not know. He assumed that their primary psykic bioforms were still planetside, accompanying the final stages of invasion. He stood for a moment, continuing to watch the ships burn before turning to regard the Captain of First Company, Septimus Vedrix. The men both stood at their full height, Lord Vulcanus at 2.6 metres still a bit taller than his Captain.

“Bring the fleet about and set course for Moranis IV.” He paused, turning back to look out the viewport across the bridge. “If we set full burn, plus a couple of pinpoint warp jumps with the help of Master Librarian Decius, we should be there in two or three days time.”

“As you wish, My Lord.” Septimus bowed his head a bit before continuing. “Should we notify the 97th?”

“No.” Vulcanus replied curtly. “We haven’t time to waste.”

The fleet of 5 ships angled and their sublight drives roared deeper towards the system’s sun, praying that they would arrive before it was too late.