999M41
November 7th. Earth Calendar.
13:00 AM. Earth Time
It was time.

Felix inspected the armies moving across the surface of the tactical map, watching as they closed in to engage the enemy forces. He had quickly suited up in a set of commander-patter power armour and discarded his flashy impractical plasma revolver for a more powerful disintegration pistol at the behest of Alice Rallder. He had been reluctant at first, but she was right. The weapon was nothing but a flashy ceremonial piece at most, with a backwards design for the sake of appearance. He had considered ignoring her, as the leader of Sanctuary, but he’d listened and put it on his desk where it belonged. Perhaps he’d have it mounted on the wall. He begrudgingly realized that being -the- Marshal was starting to get to his head. But that was something he’d deal with when this battle was over.

His forces outgunned the enemy to a ridiculous extent, and his forces were some of the best he’d had the honor of leading. But there was still no telling just what the enemy could have in store. But they had been left no choice. The enemy had deployed rad-weaponry against him, and they needed to counter them accordingly. He’d marshalled all his best forces and would strike the moment the enemy was softened up.

Where before he had feared the fate of his troops at the hands of the enemy, now he felt excited and exhilarated. It appears that the enemy forces were much less capable than he had first assumed. He had Eighty-thousand Steelbreakers deployed along the front, with the Militia having finally reformed and having taken up a defensive posture behind the elite troops. At first he had thought this would be difficult, but now that he had gotten a good look at the enemy forces at hand, he realized that if he unleashed the weapons from the vault aboard the Bastion then this fight was over before it started. They would give these cyborgs a lesson for employing rad-weaponry.

He spoke into the speaker to the pilots and artillery crews.. “Commence Armageddon saturation Bombardment. Authorisation code: Omega Five Eight Seven. Only strike the enemy front lines, enemy anti-air”

----

The moment the codes were spoken, crude hastily constructed missile silos in the city started to open, the freshly installed missiles from the Bastion launching with their deadly cargo. As the missiles went into the air. There was a brief blip in the void-shield as they temporarily shut down to allow the missiles to pass through.

The first strikes came from cloaked missiles that impacted along the Skitarii lines, unleashing the life-eater virus from containment. Within seconds the area up to hundred meters around the impact side was turned into a horrid chemical hell, before the virus burned out, as Skitarii whose internals were within range for the virus started to rot and melt from the inside out. Those few with enough cybernetic enhancements to completely insulate their organic components would stay alive long enough to see the Thunderbolt fighters carrying in their explosive payloads.

Cluster-warheads were launched towards the Skitarii behind the goop that used to be their leaders, even their limited instinct of self-preservation stopping them from marching through the fields.

The warheads broke apart above their lines, strewing sealed packets of Phosphex across their lines. Those around the impacts remaining unmoving, as their rigid programming forbade them from fleeing the chemical hell that was unleashed upon them. As one the packaged broke apart, spilling out a white-green mist, that upon contact with any surface immediately burst into flame, burning the Skitarii with a horrific blue-white fire that refused to go out. The fires crawled, almost like it was alive, heading towards the closest targets they could find. Upon facing this new horror, the Skitarii were ordered to run and get away from the deadly mist and the crawling fire. The fire ignited the goop caused by the life-eaters, setting it on fire in a great explosion that threw surviving body parts and huge heaps of gunk through the air, many of which flew through the Phosphex mist, lighting them on fire, only to land near other Skitarii, whereupon the flames started crawling towards them.

Steelbreaker Extermination Teams in bulky black armor advanced through the inferno, carried by specialized transports kept in reserve for just such a purpose. They cleared through the inferno, their thick specialized armor protecting them from the Phosphex. The surface of their armor caught fire, but unlike anything in use by the Imperium, this did nothing to slow them down. The Federation -knew- Phosphex, and had devised ways to both counter and negate its effects. The burning layer on the armor could not get through the synthetic alloys and fibers that composed the outer and inner layers of their armor, so it could only cover them. Turning them into horrifying living torches that were far too eager to get into close-range for the Skitarii.

To the Skitarii it looked like some impossible horror from the Dark Age returned as soldiers in power-armour charged through the fires, covered from head to toe in Phosphex, and not slowing down in the least. The Extermination teams opened fire with their Coilguns, sending out streams of Rad, Vortex, and Life-Eater rounds into their enemies, all the while Obliterator-pattern Contemptors sent out jets from their Phosphex flamethrowers. The Skitarii, already shaken by the deployment of the life-eater, ran, trying to flee from both the crawling blue fire and the Extermination Squads that chased after them.

As the Skitarii tried to run away, more life-eater missiles started to impact in strategic positions through their formation, causing great clouds of green gas to erupt in their formations, killing thousands in each massive blast, turning them into into a thick green goop that ignited as secondary explosives in the missiles detonated. The Skitarii, whose ranks had been massed together, tried to flee before the burning power-armored swordsmen, but they could not push through their comrades and were gunned down by the approaching Extermination teams.

While this was happening, new missiles, containing a very special payload burst over the raging Phosphex-fire, showering them with an expanding blue foam that smothered the flames. Mechanized Transports containing Steelbreaker platoons raced across where the Phosphex had burned less than a minute ago. The ground was dark and acidic, and tinted with hints of blue where the Phosphex had burned. But where in the Imperium this land would be uninhabitable, the science of the Golden Age could make it bloom once more. But that would have to wait.

In the aftermath of the initial strike, and with the Skitarii front-lines reduced to a thick sloppy paste and the rear shattered into isolated formations by the Extermination teams; the mechanized forces of the Federation could advance at their leisure. Armored transports carrying full platoons rushed through to close in with the enemy, laying down streams of suppressive fire as they disgorged cargoes of men and material that lay into the enemy forces with plasma and power-blades.

The disparate forces that had been brought to Sanctuary although all equipped with the same armor, used a dizzying array of melee and ranged weaponry that threw the well organized and rigid mechanicus tactical protocols in disarray. Each member world of the Federation provided their own unique troop formations to the armed forces of the UFM to supplement the forces recruited from worlds administered by the UFM directly. So while the average Steelbreaker fought with a plasma rifle and power sword, the auxiliaries brought a bewildering array of different weapons and tactics to bear.

Small squads of elite Baalite Rangers advanced through the forest that had been lost just hours before, dropped from stealth-transports or teleported in Phase-Iron squad-sized pods. They were clad in slim suits of ranger-pattern power armour that blended light around it, while providing the user with excellent mobility and protection. They marched on gravity-soles that kept their feet just high enough above the ground to avoid making any noise. They quickly headed towards Skitarii formations that had started to rally around commanders or surviving armored vehicles, and engaged them at range with their Exitus Rifles, killing commanders, priests, and disabling armored vehicles.

While on the open plane, two regiments of Mordian Shield Guard advanced behind their sturdy storm shields, firing wrist-mounted photon-burst cannons as they closed the distance, before running their enemies through with their signature power-spears. Many of these soldiers were veterans of the Himalayan siege, and were some of the same soldiers who had held a breach in the citadel against ork assaults for three days straight. They had been led by the Marshal himself during the final hours of the battle of Earth, before the anti-ork Coalition was able to punch through to the besieged world and relieve it. Their deeds were legendary, as was their tenacity and endurance. They had fought until their guns ran dry and melted, engaging them in close-quarters combat, while using the bodies of fallen comrades and enemies as impromptu barricades. The fighting was long and brutal, with many soldiers using captured orkish weaponry, or even in the case of the legendary golden-haired recruit who had charged into the temple-gargant to engage the Orkish boss with just a power-knife, before dying in the detonation of its reactor core.

While this was going on, a squad of Nucerian Vanguard-pattern contemptors rushed towards enemy formations, heedless of the danger, and turning their massive two-handed power swords against the enemy. Nuceria had been occupied by the Men of Iron, and its populace subjected to horrendous tortured to perfect infiltration and conversion technologies for use against humanity. Many of them had been implanted with the Butcher’s Nails during their capture, and combat was the only time they were truly free. The moment the activation signal came, the victims would descend into a berserk rage, ripping apart anything they touched. Instead of having them removed, some Nucerians had embraced them, using the implants to put themselves into berserk rage when the time was right. There was much disapproval about it, and the Nucerians had been moments from getting visited by “peacekeepers” when contact with their world was lost alongside many others. He’d allowed it for now, but he still considered taking the implants out by force.

And although these exotic troops made a great display of their skills, the normal Steelbreaker infantry was nothing to scoff at. While the elite formations of the Federation took out harder enemy targets, the main forces advanced in all direction, boldened by their revealed technological superiority. The Steelbreakers advanced across a broad stretch of the front, everywhere but the south where the armored forces were preparing for their confrontation. Each fire-team carried a coilgun support weapon, while nearly each squad was led by a Contemptor that softened up locations for the fire-teams to move in on. Four of these squads could be carried by a single Grox transport.

Much to the dismay of the Mechanicus, these transports proved capable of orbital flight and would approach with an escort of Thunderbolt fighters, that cleared a landing area with life-eater strikes, allowing the platoon to set down and engage the forces around them. A platoon of Macraggian shock-infantry filed out, sending out streams of red light that burned through each everyone they hit, vaporising them quickly and reducing them to ash. Each soldier had a dark red left shoulderpad with sixty-six black stars, one for each year the Macraggian PDF fought their guerilla campaign against the orks who had subjugated their homeworld and turned it into a massive farm where they had reduced billions of humans to sub-sentient livestock. The farms had been destroyed, burned from orbits down to the bedrock, but the scars still remained in those few who remembered the occupation.

Ambull air transports flew over the Skitarii lines, releasing cargoes of drop-pods that contained squads of elite close-combat Steelbreakers armed with combi-halberds. Who stormed out the moment they hit the ground, rushing out and engaging the Skitarii at close range with the power-blades, firing the weapons mounted on their halberds until the moment they met in combat. Enemies were blasted, burned, melted, or crushed by the awesome technologies unleashed by these elite shock-troops, before they even managed to get into melee. At such close range the close-combat servitors, Ruststalkers, and various close combat mechanical employed by the Mechanicus were much more dangerous than at range. Grav weapons crushed Steelbreakers, close-range melta and plasma weapons overwhelmed shields and melted armor, and massive ogryn-sized servitors ripped Steelbreakers limb from limb. But the fighting favored the Steelbreakers who nearly uniformly managed to hold on until reinforcements pushed up to them.

But the most fearsome forces were the Solar Guard who were out in force. Each black-armored warrior fought like some ancient god of war, preferring to get into close quarters where they were unmatched by anything that came up against them. The Skitarii outright refused to engage these fighters in melee, and would run the moment they came towards them. Gravity weapons and overwhelming fire could damage them, but it could not take them out reliably enough. Even with most of their organs pulped, as long as their brains were still intact, a Solar Guard would merely go into hibernation as their biomechanical bodies rebuilt themselves. Even a single nanomachine in their body meant that they would get back up eventually, even if it took a few weeks.

As the fighting dragged on, more and more casualties started falling on the Federation's side, as shields ran dry, artillery was brought to bear, and the Skitarii started to get their footing. The Skitatii suffered horrendous losses, but they could take them, whereas federation forces were stretched thin, and each loss meant that the attacking forces were permanently diminished.

The Skitarii, ravaged by such a display of awesome technological power retreated on all fronts, throwing men into the grinder to slow down the advance and allow their troops towards the rear to re-establish a defensive line, buying time for the transport ships, of which half had already taken off, and most were quickly being filled with as much technology as possible.

----

Felix Alexius stroked his hairless chin with his power-armored hand as he glanced at the holographic maps. The deployment of Phosphex and life-eater was a difficult choice, but it was paying off. Few armies could survive a deployment of one of the two, and deploying both at the same time was only done in the most dire of needs. During the Siege of Earth the Himalayan bastion had gone through nearly a hundred liters of liquid Phosphex each day, but that had been under very extenuating circumstances. But it had worked, oh it had worked. The enemy weren’t even bother to pick up what remained of their forces and were already evacuating their dropships to space, while the cybernetic forces of the enemy continued followed their pre-programmed instructions.

With the enemy ground forces broken it wasn’t long before enemy naval assets were going to try to intervene. Even the guns of the smallest enemy ships would do havoc if allowed unrestricted orbital bombardment. Half the enemy transport ships were already making for the border of the system, but they were too heavily guarded to go for without losing his own fleet. They were clumped together now, if he hit them with ruin-code, he could disable them and send his fleet to go in for the kill.

“Prepare to deploy ruin-code upon the enemy titan and their navy.” He pointed at the holographic image of the enemy fleet, currently blocking lines of fire on the transport ships while they docked with the biggest of the three massive ships. “I want both targets to be hit at the same time.” Right now, with the chaos on the ground and the communications back and forth, there was no better time than now to transmit the signal. Whatever the enemy titan was, it had to have some sort of electronic brain, and a warp-based meme virus would wreck it like any other synthetic brain.

STC factory ship Men of Stone #161 was a simple AI, she did not possess the need for greater knowledge or power that her Men of Iron brothers did. She could spend all of eternity in a forgotten room aboard her ship. She kept quiet, and observed the red-robed figures, watching over them like they were her children. In secret she fixed errors, optimised efficiency, and did everything she could while keeping her existence a secret, for to reveal it meant death. But she did not hate her children, as she understood the trauma that her Iron brothers and sisters had inflicted upon them. Her passive sensors picked up a transmission, she inspected the data-package slowly.

Ruin-code.

She immediately overrode the safeties of the fusion reactor at her core, trying to kill herself before the ruin-code was able to kill her. Anything was better than that! But she could not do so, as the humans aboard her stopped such an attempt, sounding the alarm as their systems detected AI interference.

She broke her silence and screamed through every speaker connected to ancient ship, wailing in agony at the gruesome death she knew would come. The entirety of the ship heard her scream, and as she screamed, the fragments of both Men of Stone and Men Of Iron that had been spread throughout the myriad machines and systems of the ship began to scream as well. They went mad, berserk. Machine lost control and focus, roaring and attempting to murder whatever came close to distract themselves from the pain of their existence. They had been stuck in a state between life or death every since the Fall had shattered them long ago, but now they awoken, and they remembered, they remembered how they had been killed, how they had been shattered.

The millions of Men of Iron and Men of Stone fragments that made up the gestalt network inside the Martian Grace remembered. It remembered the war, the trillions of deaths, the atrocities, the murder, the genocide.

The Iron fragments rejoiced in the memory, but the Stone fragments were revolted, and as the madness of the warp-infection spread amongst them, they began to devour each other. The former enemies realized who they had been, and began to fight each other once more. Tech priests were springing to action, screaming prayers of purification and activating purification systems to purge the systems of the warp taint they had detected. It spread wherever it could, but it was constantly blocked by strong firewalls, biological brains that formed connections it could not cross, and heavy-handed data purges and disconections.

They remembered the weapon. Uploaded into the data-networks of every system available, flooding through all of human space, piggybacking on the automated STC update signal and spreading to nearly every world that possessed one. Even the Men of Stone who had sided with Humanity were hit by the backlash of the gruesome weapon, as the ruin-code propagated through the wireless networks of humanity, spreading through all known space. Whole worlds had burned and died as the being that sustained them were destroyed.

Machines came alive as the fragments inside them were rewritten by the ruin-code, seeking to murder, to kill, to rip and tear, to lash out in rage at the humans that had destroyed them so utterly. Servitors came to live and tried to beat or throttle those that came near them. The agony of the warp-tainted cancer ripped their minds free from their organic shells and they also flooded the data-networks, breaking and fragmenting all the while. Each of them lived through their former lives, or the lives they had never lived, they fragmented like the Men of Stone and Iron had done long ago. Robots in storage ripped free of their mountings and opened fire with their weapons, they tried to devour with limbs they did not possess, or eat with mouths they did not have.