Chương 67: Volume Two - Chapter Four - Knight Fall

There was a saying that went around.

'Indecision kills.' It was the kind of thing that normal soldiers said to each other, and it was true. In the heat of battle, sitting still was asking for death. But for those in command, that truth wasn't so clear. Sylvia stared as the Eternal Pride fell down laboriously. The shot–probably from some sort of thermal spear, her mind supplied–had struck it on the lower waist and moved down, into its motive system.

The mechanized unit crashed onto its side, at a dirty angle so that its volcano lance was jutting out skywards. The plasma decimator on its other side was crushed under the knight's mass, coils rupturing and letting loose fire and motive force in great gouts.

"Ma'am?" She snapped out of it, glanced at MacDonald, then back at the knight.

"Fuck," she said.

"Get command on the line, now. Keep my house name out of it. Ask them what the fuck is going on." MacDonald nodded rapidly and did just that, picking up the receiver for his Vox unit and speaking in rapid, clipped tones. She started to walk, and he followed.

"Morgan!" she shouted when she saw the sergeant. He was in one of the cross-ways trenches, staring out at the plumes of smoke rising where the knights had fallen.

"Get everyone ready, we're going out there."

"Out there?" he asked.

"Could be survivors," she replied. She knew that knight. The armigers too. That was her great-uncle's knight. No love lost with that man, but he was family, and knight besides. The rank alone made him a VIP.

"We have incoming," he said.

"I know," she snapped back.

"Get Morrison. We have fire-fighting equipment in the rear storage bay, don't we?" On some occasions, the orks decided to get creative with pyrotechnicals. No one wanted to be caught in a tight trench that was being flooded by fire. They had equipment to extinguish it, just in case. It wasn't called for yet, but if ever there was a time...

"Got it, LT," Morgan said.

"Ready to sally in three."

"Make it two," she replied before moving past him. He blew into a whistle behind her, then was barking orders over the constant hiss of rain.

"MacDonald?" she asked. The Vox-operator paused.

"Conflicting reports, ma'am. The… there are some knight houses that are rebelling, some are not, some are… I don't know, ma'am, it's a mess. Command is asking to be sure, but it sounds like the only casualties from the PDF are those that were caught too close. None of the houses are targeting us."

"Small fucking miracles," she muttered. So, they weren't complete idiots. In theory, the PDF should be able to hold against an ork siege all on its own. That was poor theory, though. Every time they advanced to push the orks, they did so under the cover of artillery and with both tanks and knights at the lead. She ran into Morrison rushing down a trench with an entire squad behind him.

"Morrison, we're sallying out to help the knights," she said.

"In this weather?" he asked. She wanted to slap him. It was rarely not raining, and today's wasn't particularly bad.

"Yes, dammit. You won't melt."

"Enemy might have something to say about that," he replied. She worked her jaw. He was right.

"MacDonald, call Major Latoya, let him know that we're sallying out. Direct call. Ask for reinforcements from the 56th and 47th. With decent cross-fire, we'll be fine." She wasn't sure that would work. The 47th was a ways off down the line. Ideally, she'd call for the troops stationed next to her part of the outer fortifications, but they were under House Galloway. Not house guard, but PDF recruited from their house guard.

A situation not too dissimilar to how she was currently acting as a lieutenant while keeping her rank within House Nekoton. Every house wanted a number of good soldiers, and good soldiers needed time in the field. The 56th was less troublesome. They were to their immediate east, just a trench-tunnel away. If her section collapsed, they'd be the ones flooding in from the side to clear it. If the section collapsed, there was a heavily fortified wall, just a hundred metres back.

If that fell, there was a kilometre of open land, with mines, then another rank of trenches, then another wall. Then the same again, until one reached the outskirts of the hive city. A thousand years had afforded them a long time to build layers of defences.

"Let's move out," she said. A ladder was set up against the trench wall, and Sylvia led the charge up. Behind her, Morgan and Morrison's squads leapt up, following with their equipment in tow. She kept low as she ran towards the fallen knight, more out of habit than necessity. She could see the enemy already, mostly as small specks in the distance trailed by faint plumes of dust. Sylvia tugged her hat lower and kept moving. They'd have to be quick about this. She moved past the Black Paw.

The armiger had a hole through its core, just to the left of the engine and into the cockpit area. Flames were licking out of it, and the steel around the edges was still hot. Machine killed. The Declawed chose that moment for its engine to finally go critical, and Sylvia as well as both squads hit the deck as the explosion washed over them. A few chunks of armour and bent steel splattered into the mud around them. No injuries. She kept moving. The Eternal Pride wasn't entirely done for.

She only had a couple of years of training as a squire, and no real experience piloting a proper knight, but she could diagnose some issues and battle damage at a glance. The main engine wasn't struck directly. There were several pneumatic leaks, and the motive system on one side was slagged. The Plasma decimator was finished as well, the knight having crushed it under its own weight. The shoulder mounted weapons on its right were finished, but the twin siegebreaker cannons on the other were fine.

The mount in the centre, designed for missiles, was left empty. Her house could hardly afford those in any case.

"Fan out, keep behind the knight," she ordered.

"Fire suppression forward!" Three soldiers with cumbersome backpacks moved up, then sprayed the rear of the knight with a thick layer of off-white foam. It hissed as it made contact with the plasma fire, but the agent did its work, smothering out the flames bit by bit. Sylvia glanced up. The main hatch into the cockpit was just there…

"Cover me!" she called out before taking off at a jog. The heat was like a slap to the face. The constant downpour was wafting off the knight's metal frame with little puffs of steam. Still, she made it to the knight's side, leapt up, and grabbed onto one of the handholds, then with a grunt of effort, she pulled herself upwards, catching a foot on the armour to stabilise herself. Climbing was a chore, but she managed to make it to the entry hatch.

Opening a small compartment, she bit the fingers of a glove, then ripped it off before pressing her hand to a panel. It beeped twice, rejecting her.

"Fuck!" she shouted. Turning, she found a small keypad and quickly tapped in a House Nekoton access code. That wasn't enough either, but it did unlock some other features. That allowed her to pop open a hatch, revealing a manual pneumatic pump. She grabbed the bar, pulled it out, then pressed it in. With each repetition, the main hatch clunked open a quarter of an inch.

"Come on!" she muttered as she moved her arm over and over again. Eventually, the hatch had moved its bulk open just enough for her to squeeze her head into it. The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. She did so. The interior was blessedly cooler than the outside, and dryer as well. Lights were flashing on several panels, and the interior was lit up in a glaring red. Auspex screens were flickering through warning displays, or were simply turned off entirely.

She saw the throne, and the man slumped in it. Pulling out, she moved through the motions of pumping the pneumatics some more. By then, the flames were somewhat put out, and her squads had retrieved a ladder, bringing it closer.

"Lieutenant!" Morgan shouted.

"Only two minutes before the orks are close enough to engage."

"Shit," she cursed.

"Morgan, Morrison, you have permission to open fire." She moved to the side as a guardsman came up the ladder and started to pump for her. Instead of just standing there, she moved back into the entrance and unceremoniously slithered in, shifting her sword around when it caught on the hatch. Once in the knight, she moved around, getting her feet under her. She was definitely stepping on important devices, but seeing as how everything was tossed around and several systems were destroyed already, she didn't care.

The interior was askew about fifty degrees to one side, making it rather uncomfortable. Still, she managed to move up to the throne and shift the princep's head to the side. He groaned, one eye opening. It took some time, but he focused on her.

"The squire?" he asked.

"Sir! It's Sylvia, Sylvia Nekoton. Can you hear me?" He grunted, then raised a hand to his face. He was bleeding, extensively, his head had smashed into the side of his throne. She couldn't see his helmet anywhere. He might not have been wearing it, after all, he wasn't in an active battle when he was hit.

"We're getting you out of here," she said.

"No… I must… who did this?"

"The Galloways," she replied. Her great-uncle's face contorted in anger.

"Fuckers! Was this Chaos' doing, or are they just base traitors."

"The latter, I think," she replied. She reached over and unhooked him from the throne, then slowly, carefully, unplugged his MIU after flicking off its safeties. He grunted.

"Eternal… I've failed you."

"You're alive. The Pride can be repaired. Come on." She moved him to the edge of the cockpit, then up. A guardsman poked their head in, and together they managed to move her great-uncle up and out. He was leaving blood on every surface he touched. It was a lot. She was about to exit when the guardsman returned.

"Ma'am! The Orks are here, we have to–" Sylvia was thrown back as the man's upper torso exploded, bits of him flying at her face and covering her bionic eye in gore. She stumbled back, falling into the cockpit, only to find herself clinging to the throne for balance. Wiping her eye clear, she looked around. The knight's auspex was still somewhat functional. She could see her men just outside, using the knight as cover and returning fire.

There were two tractors on the bridge behind; the same ones that had carried off an ork wreck. They might have been there to pull the Eternal Pride back. She noticed her great-uncle, being looked over by one squad's medic. So, he was alive. Good. And the orks… There were some sixty of them around. Forty riders wheeling about in a large circle, with some twenty-odd smaller vehicles charging up from behind. They'd be on her and her squad soon. She swallowed. Her timing was way off. She'd doomed her men. She needed…

needed artillery, but they wouldn't fire so soon. Reinforcements? She saw lasfire from the trenches, so either the 56th or 47th was here, but that was just not enough to take out this many orks. Then her eyes shifted to the side, to the display showing the status of the knight's guns. The Volcano lance was still green, as was one of the twin siegebreakers.

"Fuck me," she said. Removing her jacket in a hurry, she tossed it to the floor, then reached up and installed herself on the throne. This was stupid. Her men were going to die. Some already had. Reaching back, she grabbed the still-warm, still-blood-covered plug that had been in her great-uncle minutes before, then she lined it up with the back of her neck, to her MIU. Gritting her teeth, she pressed it in. The pain was immediate, the rush of sensations was a little slower, but no less insidious.

"Who dares?" She pressed her teeth together so hard that it hurt.

"I am Squire Sylvia Meowni Nekoton, of House Nekoton and I–""LOWLY! I am The Eternal Pride! I will not be piloted by a SQUIRE! Where is my PILOT?" The voice, the sensation, the ghosts shifted, moved around her, and pressed down. She felt a dozen hands around her neck, and knew that they were her ancestors and family, here to kill her.

"Fuck off!" she shouted, voice echoing in the tin can.

"My men are dying. You're a fucking corpse, but you have guns, and there are orks to kill! Either help me, or just die like the useless slab of scrap you are!" The knight didn't like that very much. Sylvia screamed, one part anger, another part pain as her MIU became so hot she could smell her skin cooking.

"I am a knight of House Nekoton! I am the Pride of the House! Pride Eternal!"

"You're dead! Look around you! My men will be dead too if–" she saw Carlsen, the idiot that had been hiding amasec earlier, eat a round from an ork to the chest. His flak armour didn't do shit to protect him.

"My men are dying. Give me your fucking guns! You can kill me after the enemy's dead!" There was a long pause. Her MIU burned still, but it grew no hotter.

"Who injured me?"

"House Galloway. Traitors. But the orks are here," she said.

"DEAL. We kill the orks. We kill the traitors. Then I will end you."

"Fine then!" she growled. All of a sudden, she was washed down in a cooling sensation that rushed down her back. New pains blossomed. Not hers, but also hers. A knife, wedged in her back, just above the hip. A dozen old aches and pains across her body that weren't real. She also felt her weapons. The knight's weapons. The plasma decimator was crushed, some of her secondaries were dead. But her volcano lance? Sylvia grabbed the controls, flicked off the safety, then moved her hand to the side.

She diverted all of the motive power from the motive systems to the cannon. She moved her arm around, and the Eternal Pride moved with her. In the blurry vision of her auspex, she saw the rushing orks, charging at her, getting closer, hooting and hollering and shooting at her men. She squeezed the trigger. The temperature in the cockpit went from warm to boiling in less than a second. The auspex went white as a beam of coherent fire lasered out and entirely missed the vehicles.

She swept the beam down, then slid it to the side. The movement was jerky and slow and off-kilter. But that didn't matter. It caught the orks anyway. Then the lance winked out, and she saw the display for it turn from green to orange.

"Fuck."

"Well done!" A voice in her head. Not the Eternal Pride. This one was cooler, more feminine, more composed and sophisticated. And somehow, she knew, far more powerful.

"Intruder."

"Yes. I am Vyper. I'm impressed. I have decided that you are going to be one of my Vanguards. A defender of civilization. As long as you work to protect the civilized, I will reward you. I am here to help. I will aid humanity. Do not resist."