Horus Heresy - 30x The Devine Word by Warhammer 40 000

Author:Warhammer 40,000
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2013-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

The bridge of the Contemptuous buzzed with comm-net feeds and the vox-chatter of Marcus's subordinates. Every minute or so the main cannon fired, causing the Capitol Imperialis to shudder, the deafening boom muffled by audio dampeners.

Marcus concentrated on the main display, which had been divided into seven sub-screens showing the battle-telemetry across the five-kilometre-long front. One display was hooked into a live-feed from the recon craft in the upper atmosphere above the city, showing the pulverised defences below. The fire of the Capricorns continued to rain down, shells and missiles concentrating on the pillboxes and weapons batteries.

Five more were schematics of the Pioneers' and Therions' advance into the outskirts of Milvian. Infantry brigades moved swiftly from building to building, covered by Warhound Titans of the Legio Vindictus. Progress was swift, and it seemed the bulk of the enemy had been withdrawn to the wall as Marcus had expected. Even so, the attack was methodical and thorough, leaving nothing to fortune.

A kilometre behind the infantry came the tanks and assault guns of Therion and Capricorn. In long columns they crawled forwards along the main boulevards and avenues, accompanied by more infantry to ensure they were not ambushed.

The remaining screen was a pict-feed around the headquarters transport, the vista of smoke-shrouded streets slightly blurred by the six banks of void shields protecting the massive command vehicle. A flicker of las-fire, blossoms of explosions and columns of smoke painted the scene. The blur of artillery sped across the cloudy sky and plumes of dust from collapsing buildings billowed along streets. From a across the comm, a constant background to innumerably reports and conversations, the chatter and whine of small, arms fire was punctuated by louder detonations, men and women exchanged terse reports, swore and cursed, reeled off target grids and barked the names of subordinates.

It felt quite distant, a step removed from Marcus as he listened and watched. He would catch a snippet of a sergeant berating his squad for falling back and then the sonorous chant of a Mechanicum servitor churning out scan vectors, broken by the crackle of static and hiss of cipher dampening There were shouts, cries of pain, and on the screens tiny symbols would flash or disappear as the battle ebbed and flowed. Minuscule markings wormed their way along back alleys and were baulked at enemy-held junctions. Arrows of projected advances, triangles of tertiary objectives seized and circles denoting cannon fire zones covered the screens in a seemingly anarchic pattern.

Marcus did not try to comprehend it all. Now and then he would ask for clarification from one of his tribunes, but it was not his part to manage every detail of the conflict. His eye was on the broad sweep, and in this regard all was progressing as he had hoped.

Now and then his attention was drawn to the last subscreen, over which scrolled the casualty listing of the eighteen phalanxes of the Therions. Two thousand and thirty men had fallen in the first attack - not all

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