Myen'Tal - The Fire of One
Bork’an’Shas’O’Y’Suam bellowed over the wailing klaxons, the image feeds linked to his crisis suit only picking up the flash of spinning lights inside the Manta Hangar Bay. “Shas’la, my most trusted friends out of all of the fire caste! What we accomplish this night will determine the final fate of a colony!”
The Manta Gunship trembled with enough force to throw the fire caste commander from his chair had his harness not been set in place. Over the channels, the screams of the ground infantry overwhelmed everything save the personal communications as the hangar quickly filled with stoked flames. The ship was going down, but to fall from the atmosphere of a world took a long time. Time enough for Y’Suam to gather his surviving warriors, his bond mates and most trusted elite of the Crisis Suit teams, and then finish what had been started.
Y’Suam continued. “My brothers, the alien race of the Necrontyr have called you to battle in a fortnight. They arise from their underground tombs for one purpose and one only: the purge of our Ya’noi! These Necrons – they give a good show of overwhelming firepower and intimidation through their silence. Do not be dissuaded from your purpose, Shas’la, because I assure you, when they meet our guns, they will cry out in silence, and crawl back into the hell that spat them out.
“I have led you through approximately fifty nine aerial deployments.” He earned a few laughs at that. “Half of those were inside enemy territory. Place your faith in me, my warriors of fire and we shall see this through. Jump!”
The pod bay holding Y’Suam’s Crisis Suit popped open, revealing a violet hewed night sky and a planet under siege. The unforeseen moon, a terraformed colony perilously close to making planet fall on her neighbor. Her wilderness were untamed boreal forests and her settlements were writhing with sickly green flames. One such city directly beneath him was overran with a marching phalanx of warriors crafted from living metal, supported by all kinds of monstrosities that killed with abandon.
“Follow my lead, warriors of Sa’cea!” He called again before he drove his XV8 Suit off of the flame wreathed wreck.
The inertia drove him into a momentary limbo as the jet pack thrusters slowed his rapid descent. Y’Suam pulled on his controls so that he stared upward toward the destroyed Manta gunship and the dozens of small lights following him out of it. Massive, whip-like gauss blasts immediately beset them by the dozen. There were no screams, but a handful of small explosions streaked across the stary sky.
The blue hexagonal grid of his suit’s shield generator flashed on and off again as gauss fire grazed against the surface. Y’Suam erected his suit and instantly half a dozen targets blipped onto his image feed. A small red icon flashed again and again in the corner of his screen. He veered the XV8 to the left in a strafe, avoiding fire from a Triach Stalker crawling over the a shattered ruin.
Y’Suam’s connected nervous system and brain link instantly picked up the desired target, the crosshairs of his two fusion guns and missile pod instantly flashed green. “Team Shadow Sword, engage my target!”
Y’Saum slammed feet first into the earth, creating a charred crater on impact, and then launched through the air again through a storm of small arms fire. He checked the life signatures of his teammates, they were following close behind. His missile pod unleashed a salvo on a dense formation of Necron machines that he swept over. Living metal and alien energies blossomed in a sapphire tinted storm of fire, the rest of his team followed, ensuring their devastation.
As Team Shadow Sword flew towards the Triach Stalker, Y’Saum caught images of Shas’la and civilians either fleeing or fighting. In either case, he could not help but flinch as they wore atomized in the blink of an eye. If the Tau were to succeed here, the end results of this battle would be anything but satisfactory. There were thousands of half atomized corpses intermingled with shattered Necron husks. It was shameful that the Tau were forced to bleed this much to repel their enemy.
Y’Suam’s teeth glinted in a knife cut grin, the Stalker rapidly coming into sight, blind sighted. The payload from the fusion blasters instantly vaporized against the quantum shielding, leaving a white hot trail from where the attack connected. As he glided past the Stalker, the fire trails left by the other teams made a mark against the approaching phalanx. Plasma rifles cut through individual infantry by the score. Missiles rained down and plunged their formations into further disorder. Flamethrowers rushed into the thick of their disorganized ranks, wreathing the remainder of the enemy in a torrent of fire.
Nothing stopped the inevitable from coming true. Hordes of scarabs latched onto suit after suit that landed but for a moment. The Necron Elite easily dashed apart those reckless enough to fly into range of their ranks. The remaining Broadsides continued to pound the opposition with their missile salvos wherever Y’Suam’s warriors left their marks. Not even the Triach lasted long under the XV88’s attention, blasted apart by distant rail gun attacks.
In less than an hour, the tide had turned momentarily in the favor of the Tau. But Aun’Kais’ reports of the diminished population left any thought of victory hollow. The inevitable had happened, there was no longer a population worth defending on this planet anymore.
Y’Suam landed his suit a top a catacomb spider, placed his fusion gun onto the head, and obliterated the brain of the machine in one blinding flash of light. As the carcass skidded into the earth, a massive vessel, weapons alight from all directions, fired a blast that landed just behind his suit. His own team’s life signatures abruptly went dead, before the fallout of the blast crumpled his suit like toy. The last thing he ever heard was his own defiant scream.
“Shas’O’Y’Suam. He won a pyrrhic victory against the Necrontyr protecting one of Sa’cea’s second sphere colonies. Eighty percent of the colony’s population were killed in action. An awkward achievement to say the least.”
“Though the Empire is shamed by his lack of preservation for the common civilian. A victory against the Necrontyr isn’t something we can just disregard. End the simulation. Revive him from Cryostasis, now that he is up to speed. We can use a Commander like him. A disgraced general can go far to find redemption.”