In the Image of His Father (40K)

[Imperial Overlord]

Drop pods burned through atmosphere. They drew green glowing tracks on the radar screens of the ground defence stations that had survived the murderous lance bombardment. Batteries of missles opened up and bright contrails lit the night.

The pods were swift moving and equipped with counter measures. A dozen were shattered by the missle wave. More came. More missle and railgun batteries opened up. Death rained back down as the Imperial cruisers fired back. Mushroom clouds rose slowly into the sky as false dawns burst over Althen's surface.

The surviving pods hit the dirt, mostly near defence bases, air strips, and sensor arrays. Only a few of the early pods had survived. Armoured cowlings on all sides of the conical pods blew off to reveal rocket launchers. They began to fire in rapid succession, empting the ammunition stores that made up most of the their volume.

As the Death Blossom pods hammered the landing zones in a half minute orgy of high explosive violence, the pods filled with actual troops neared the landing sites. A third of them had been destroyed in the air and another two suffered mechanical failures which lead them to smash into the earth. The surviving ones grounded and began disgorging troops.

One in three pods had a top mounted autocannon to provide covering fire. As the guns began to deploy, conscript troops began to poor out of the pods before enemy weaponry obliterated them. They wore bulky plate armour and were armed with autoguns and a scattering of support weapons. They were malcontents and political unreliables of the near penal Striker Regiment. Now they had to win or die.

As the Strikers fought and died, Lightning fighters spearheaded the assault boats descent. Cannons and missles fired upon suspected weapons batteries and strong points. Four Lightning tumbled from the sky, blazing wrecks, as the enemy fought back. They had done their job though. They had guided the assault boats down to the space port and mega city of Minios and only lost one of their charges.

Fire blossomed from a score of fires burning freely. Minios was home to thirty million people and the heart of Althen's space industry. Half the drop pods had been sent here. Secure it and the surrounding region and the Imperium could pour in countless numbers of troops while denying the Althenians their primary manufacturer of planetary defence weapons.

The blocky assault ships cruised over their targets. Bublous turrets swung dual autocannons to bear on anything that appeared to be an enemy target and hosed them with fire. Small arms fire and light support weapons bounced off their thick hulls. The retalitory fire was devestating.

Doors opened in the sides of the drop ships. Figures wearing dark grey descended through shimmering air on grav chutes. They wore the motled grey of Delta Purgia's standard pattern urban camouflage. Carapace armour cuirasses and helmets augmented their flak cloth uniforms. Their faces were hidden behind photo shielded blast visors and respirator units. Their gloved hands held hellguns.

They were firing even as they hit the ground. Drum fed man portable grenade launchers and the tempermental plasma guns plasted enemy strong points as they charged forward. Bullets flew back. Fragmentation weapons burst around them.

Their carapace armour absorbed most hits with results no worse than bruising. A few were cut or slashed through their flak armour and a few were unlucky enough to have caugh a bullet in the throat or were struck down with a heavy weapon.

The rest killed. The high energy laser weapons blew through the Althenian's armour like it wasn't there and blew flesh apart. Building walls failed under mass volleys. Strong points were raked by autocannons from above or burst open with plasma beams or krak grenades. Poison gas was used indescriminitely against hold outs in a city that had only half evacuated into shelters. They stormtroopers did not hesitate or stop. They killed everything in their path. They were ferocious, they were swift, and they were synchronized.

In Liberty Park, the statues commemerating those who had lost their lives fighting the Ork raiders were shot to pieces. The soldier and the police defending the park were gun downed without mercy. A dull roar came from over head as an assault boat, two engines smashed by missle fire, nosed in to the ground just beyond the Avenue of the Victors.

Captain Jerick Lynn signaled his vox caster trooper to patch him in to the fleet net. "Area three secured. You can begin additional landings in this area." The storm troopers didn't possess the heavy weapons or the numbers to take the city. They didn't have to. They just had to secure the landing zones for rest of the troops waiting in orbit. And that was preceeding a mere four minutes behind schedule.

[Shroom Man 777]

Wonderful. I wonder though, what do Stormtroopers look like? Will we see Space Marines? And goddamn the Guard rocks!

[PeZook]

I'm rooting for the Althenians, though. They fought Space Orks on their own, dammit! They deserve to live, or at least show the Guard how Hell looks like before going down in flames!

[Ford Prefect]

I love it when the guard goes to town on planets like this.

[Imperial Overlord]

Wonderful. I wonder though, what do Stormtroopers look like?

They wore the motled grey of Delta Purgia's standard pattern urban camouflage. Carapace armour cuirasses and helmets augmented their flak cloth uniforms. Their faces were hidden behind photo shielded blast visors and respirator units. Their gloved hands held hellguns.

If there had been Marines, they would have made their presence known by now and their probably would have been at least a Strike Cruiser with the fleet.

[Shroom Man 777]

Errr, I meant I wanted a pic or something - I mean, visors and respirators and armor could have all sorts of design and stuff, and I don't know what a Delta Purgia something-something looks like. But nevermind, I just searched and found what I was looking for.

[Imperial Overlord]

Landing boats began to drop from the troopships in high orbit. Landing beacons on the surface planted by Strikers and stormtroopers glowed on repeater screens as pilots guided their craft down on a hell ride into the atmosphere while evading sporadic fire from the ground. The Althenians hadn't given up control of their skies yet.

Most of the landing boats made it down entact. Doors slid open and gates slammed down. Imperial Guardsmen began to pour out, moving forward to secure the perimeter. Just behind the first waves were the heavy weapons team dragging autocannons, heavy stubbers, and rocket launchers. Once they got into place the Imperials would be able to hold against enemy armour.

More troops and specialists came next. Teams with large scale vox sets and auspex arrays marched out to set them up. Storm coated commissars with death heads gleaming on their caps motioned troops forward for the glory of the Emperor. Officers with ceramite breastplates took reports and handed out orders. Shaven head Sanctioned Psykers trailed the heels of officers like attack dogs waiting for the word to strike.

On the now muddy fields of Liberty Park, Captain Lynn came to a halt and saluted. "Jerick Lynn, Captain, 7th Company, 2ndt Battalion, 2nd Regiment, Imperial Stormtroopers reporting."

The gaunt and scarfaced major looked over at him. "Come on, the general's waiting." He took Lynn through the circle of aides and bodyguards that made up General Nayanna's bodyguard. The dark skinned woman topped Jerick Lynn's height by at least ten centimeters and she was as lean as a whip. Her uniform was devoid of decoration except for a dark insignia of rank and the skull and aquilla design on her breastplate.

"Sir," said Lynn, saluting and clicking his heels. A blind man would know to snipe at this group of men, he wasn't giving anything away. Of course, there should be anyone alive to do any sniping if everyone had done their job.

"Good," replied Nayanna. "Your evaluation of the locals?"

"Tough. Well trained." Better than most Guard regiments Lynn had encountered, but the general probably didn't want to hear that. Or maybe she did. They seemed to spend the lives of soldiers like water. "Equipment's decent, not quite up to Guard quality." Which wasn't that high in this poor and backward sector. "Determined. They'll fight hard and won't quit."

The general smiled showing lots of white teeth. "That's what intel said. For once they are right." She paused. "Your men?"

"Withdrawn from the perimeter and replaced with Guard regulars."

"Ahh, so they are ready for additional duties."

How did Jerick know that was coming. "Yes ma'am."

"Good. Stay ready."

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A low rumble swept over the perimeter at the north end of Liberty Park's defences. Soldiers gripped their lases and autoguns tighty. Most of them were fresh conscripts with three months of training seperating them from the fields or the slums of their birth. Half of them came from worlds where a blackpowder musket was high technology or outright sorcery. Veteran corporals and sergeants barked orders.

A strong wind blew. Lightning flashed in the cloudless sky. A makeshift barricade flew up into the air. Lightning flashed among a heavy stubber crew. The twitched horribly and a moment latter their ammunition cooked off. Three men were suddenly covered in frost and ice, dead on their feet. Psyker hell had been unleashed.

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Several more dropships landed as the Sanctioned Psykers devoted their energies to resisting the growing psi storm. From one of them emerged a hierarch with his attendants and thirty powered armoured soldiers of the Adeptus Sororitas as guards. From another emerged the red sheened, black power armour of Maladar.

The Inquisitor stomped across the field toward the Ecclesiarch. The massed ranks of Sororitas hesitated and then gave way. "Hierarch," Maladar commanded. "Make your way to the south side. It will be safer there."

The hawk faced man considered arguing and then nodded in acknowledgement. Which meant that his ridiculous thirty Sororitas bodyguard would actual do something useful by helping securing the south end instead of wasting their time keeping the hierarch's skinny ass safe in the rear.

Maladar stomped north. Time to end all this psyker nonsense and get the invasion back on schedule.

[Ford Prefect]

Well, with any luck, the Battle Sisters will pull off a couple of actual miracles, as well as crushing any and all who stand in their way.

[Imperial Overlord]

Maladar stomped past the Sanctioned Psykers, eight Inquisitional armsmen and a half dozen servitors trailing. "You," he said point at the psykers, "with me." He headed north.

The five men and women followed him. Another barricade flipped up into the air of the witch storm. Three Guardsmen were sent screaming a hundred meters into the sky. "Kill the witch storm," he ordered. He extended his mind forward.

The winds shifted and weakened as the psykers engaged it. Maladar's perceptions shifted to the warp and the streams of energy feeding the storm. The Sanctioned Psykers were blocking the power streams, trying to choke of the storm's power. Maladar's warp perceptions flew past that. There. A distant bunker. A dozen minds pitted against the might of the Imperium. And they were winning.

The Sanctioned Psykers weren't strong enough to hold them for long. Then the storm's fury would be turned against the landing zones. Lightning, tornadoes, and fist sized chunks of hail would be unleashed against the troops massed there. And once they were finished here another landing zone would be next. And then another and another. Unless Maladar killed them.

They were burrowed in to deep for available artillery or air strikes and he did not trust orbital fire to be descriminate enough. Maladar reached out with a lance of deadly power. Mind shields crumpled and fell away. The psyker jerked and spasmed as Maladar bore into his mind. With a savage push he burned out the psyker's brain stem.

As their comrade twitched and died the others became aware of Maladar's presence. The storm faltered and their attention shifted. Maladar struck again. A psi hammer knocked a psyker out of his trance and sent him lolling around stunned. A brutal blast shook the room and another burst into flames.

The others began to mob him. Maladar's shield's buckled under multiple counter strikes. He unleashed a pyschic shock which staggered three psykers. He pulled back, moving his mind back towards his body. Four persued.

Maladar smiled. The storm was dying now. The psykers were coming towards him, weakening as the projected their power over distance. "Kill them," Maladar ordered the Sanctioned Psykers. They struck as the Althenians closed.

The Sanctioned Psykers clashed with the Althenians. Ball lightning flared and witchfire crawled over barricades and men. The air crackled and spat. Frost touched the trampled grass. The Althenians howled and clashed against the disciplined and driven minds of the Imperials.

Four Althenians retreated, beaten back by the Sanctioned Psykers. The tattered pieces of one shredded soul drifted through the warp. The air was still. Maladar walked back towards the mass of officers.

"Give me a company of stormtroopers. I'll finish the psykers."

General Nayanna nodded. "Captain Lynn take your company and go with the inquisitor."

The stormtrooper saluted. "Your will, inquisitor."

"Three kilometers north there is a bunker," Maladar. "Target is within. Move out." Maladar turned on his heel and started towards the bunker, his retinue trailing in his wake.

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The white haired man looked every inch an aristocrat in his dark suit. He addressed the table. "How goes the war gentlemen?"

The generals shifted. They were not young men and many bore the scars of the Ork War. The wore dark green field uniforms, not dress uniforms. The Executor did not believe in standing on formality while the planet was fighting for its life. A slight man in his early forties spoke. "Executor, Madame Chairwoman, the situation is grave."

He continued. "The enemy has managed to secure landing zones and holds the high ground. Intelligence from our bypassed outposts indicates that they have recalled two of their cruisers and half their escorts back to Imperial space. Unfortunately, that still leaves them with an overwhelming advantage."

"Can we raid their transports with our surviving ships?" asked the grandmotherly Chairwoman of the Assembly. The previous Chairman had committed suicide two nights ago upon learning that the last of his children had been killed. No one who ever met Alys Cardan believed she wasn't up for the job.

"Unfortunately, a lightly armed Imperial transport carries cruiser grade weapons and shields. Their ships are also faster. Attempting to raid would be a waste of our resources."

"What is the current situation?" the Executor asked.

"The Special Directorate lead a counter attack on their landing zones. It managed to wreck on zone, damage another, and was completely beaten back at a third. Overall, they did better than I expected. The Imperials have secured access to our world?"

"Any chance of dislodging them?"

"None in the forseable future," answered a grey haired one-eyed man. "They dug in and secured the area immediately. There is some good news to report. They sent an armour thrust over the Korbi Plains and we counter attacked and crushed it. The Imperials lost fifty one fighting vehicles."

The young general answered. "Probably overconfidence on there part. A colonel or general trying to push ahead and grab glory. They'll hit us hard next time."

"What is the overall picture?"

The young general answered. "Our surface to space weapons are been severely depleted and we have no prospect for gaining substantial numbers in the near future. We cannot dislodged the Imperials from our space and they own their landing zones. Two thirds of our airbases were hit from orbit. We can expect the Imperials to have air superiority and to hit us with a major offensive within the next two weeks."

"How do you rate our chances?"

"Poor sir. And if we win the Imperials will hit us again. A day doesn't go by that more troops are shipped to the surface."

"Guerilla activity?" asked the Chairwoman.

The one-eyed general shook his head. "The Imperium will supress it brutally. Mass executions are already occuring. They are murderous fanatics. They are willing to rule over a graveyard if necessary."

[Imperial Overlord]

The juggernaut trundled forward on four massive treads. A green shimmering umbrella of active void shields covered the mobile fortress-command center. Over the last two weeks the Imperials had hammered the Althenians with air and space power and then hit them with armoured spearheads. They had broken through three times. Twice the Althenians had closed with tactical nuclear weapons. The third time their lines broke.

Maladar looked out over the ruined fields from the armour plast windows of the juggernaut. The skies were slate gray and dribbled rain over the mud. Two thousand armoured vehicles and two hundred thousand fighting men surged forward over the muck and the dead. The Althenians had lost but continued to fight. Maladar could see the spires of their capital of Sophia in the distance.

Kyra had once asked him what drove him the most. He had lied to her because as hard as she was she still wanted him to care. So he had fed her a lie about wanting to protect families from the horrors of the galaxy. His family hadn't saved him. Only power mattered. He had learned that the hard way at the foot Haradin's throne.

As a human he had no choice but the Imperium or the mad whims of the Chaos Gods. And the latter was no choice. So he was loyal to the Imperium because there was no other choice. Not for him. Rule and conquer. An inquisitor's power was vast and he would crush and kill and maim and destroy. He would grow stronger all the time, growing stronger until he fell. Fell victorious on a mound of enemy dead.

A young captain came up to him and saluted. He was smooth faced and gorgious in a dress uniform of navy blue and scarlett. "My Lord Inquisitior, the Lord Militant requests your presence."

Maladar followed him across the command deck past a row of techpriests plugged into a bank of instruements. The Lord Militant Evander Draang was surrounded by a small host of officers that Maladar was sure hadn't seen a day of real combat. The popinjays part before Maladar's awful presence. He grinned.

Evander Draang was a tall stout man, but he didn't possess Maladar's height or mass even when the inquisitor wasn't wearing powered armour. "My Lord Inquistor."

"Lord Draang."

"We appear to be nearing the end of the campaign."

"You appear to have broken the back of their military forces."

"Yes. The next stage will rely more on others. The Adeptus Arbites, the Ecclesiarchy, and of course your holy office." Ah, so this was it.

"Yes," replied Maladar. Draang wanted a favor. Let him ask.

"There may be considerable work for you in the time to come." That was an understatement. The Special Directorate alone was going to be a problem, not to mention the locals ridiculous concepts of freedoms and rights.

"It may be advantageous to you to make a strong impression early."

"To you as well," Maladar responded.

"I was thinking alternatively that the Imperial Commander," which would be him, "should appear to be merciful. The carrot as oppossed to the stick."

Fool, Maladar thought. Strength is what you need to project. Odds are I'll be putting a bolt in your brain within three years. "You want me to take care of the local's high officials."

"They will need to fear the Imperium and the Inquisition."

"I'll take care of it," said Maladar. He had learned a long time ago what needed to be done in cases like this.

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The one-eyed general looked over at the Executor. "The Imperials will be in the city within forty-eight hours. Probably twenty-four."

"Is there any hope?"

"For victory by strength of arms? No." The general looked around. "Your Excellency, our best and brightest are mostly dead. The Imperials have lost at least a half a million men. They haven't slowed. They've just poured more men."

"Guerrilla warfare?" asked the Executor. He looked around the mostly empty room. The palace guard had been sent to the front line a week ago, only a small skeleton crew had been left behind. They could defend the Executor better from the front line.

"No," said the general. "It won't dislodge them. They will kill and torture as many people as it takes to terrorize the populace into submission or exterminate the resistance."

"Is there any hope?"

"Of winning? Now? No. If we preserve enough of our population and culture our descendents may be able to dislodge them some time in the future when they are weakened by another foe."

"So you counsel surrender?"

"We're dead, but our people have a chance to live. If we act to preserve all we can."

[Shroom Man 777]

...poor guys. Poor guys.

Can we see some Marine action?

[Imperial Overlord]

The Imperial column rumbled down Sophia's man avenue in silence. The defeated Althenians mostly stayed in doors, occassionally peaking out to view their conquerers. Mud splattered tanks pushed through puddles and splashed the side walks as they headed toward the White Palace. Behind them came troop carriers full of tired and dirty soldiers.

They advanced down the avenue toward the Concourse of State. The tanks and fighting vehicles began to take up positions around it. Soldiers disembarked to take up positions. A vanguard of auspex equiped stormtroopers marched ahead, clearing the way for the higher ups.

The hatches of two Rhinos swung open. Bolter armed Sororitas in royal blue power armour embossed in gold emerged to escort Hierarch Marcus Stiles of the Ecclesiarchy. Rich sable lined robes of crimson silk shot through with cloth of gold added bulk to the withered man's frame. His carriage was straight and his eyes blazed with fire.

From the other emerged burgundy clad Inquisitional armsmen with large calibre autoguns and heavy armour. Maladar followed them out of the Rhino and across the Concourse. The Ecclesiarch and his bodyguards trailed in his wake.

Maladar doffed his helmet and handed it to one of his armsmen. He knew what he was going to do. It was the way of the universe and he had learned it long ago. Taught to him in much of the same manner, as a matter of fact.

The formal address area was large. Here the Executor and other government leaders could address the populace and the press and be held accountable. Six hundred years of democratic tradition were tied to this place and here it would end.

Stormtroopers lined the room. Cyber skulls equiped with recorders hovered at the peripherary of the room. The ceremonial guards had been disarmed. Among them stood the Leaders of the Assembly, the Executor, the Chairwoman, and the Chief Magistrate of the High Court. They stood in a semicircle around a lecturn topped with armour glass. Inside was an ancient, yellowed document. The Founding Principles. Their oldest and highest law.

The Executor was trembling as he stepped forward. "We, the people of Althen, surrender to the representatives of the Imperium of Man. We ask for mercy for our people and that you honour the principles of brotherhood that you profess."

Maladar stepped forward and looked directly into the Executor's eyes. The old man did not flinch from the horror that confronted him. "You surrender is accepted. You people will be guided to the proper path of reverence and obediance to the God-Emperor of Mankind." Maladar raised his fist and Executor took an involuntary step back.

The armour glass case shattered. The Founding Principles went up in a flash of golden warp fire. A gasp went through the Althenians. One of the guards attempted to rush forward and save the document. An armsmen put a long burst through his chest and a stormtrooper blew his head apart with a hellgun blast. He dropped, a piece of shredded meat that had once been a human being. Two of the armsman's bullets went all the way through to strike the man behind him. He fell as well, blood pouring from a mangled lung. The Althenians looked on in horror of the scene.

"The government of this world has heretically resisted the servant of the Master of Mankind. For their crimes and sins those who are physically suitable will be handed over to the Ecclesiarchy for arcoflagellation. Those to infirm will become servitors of the Priests of Mars." Maladar doubted they really understood what that meant. There were only looks of dismay and stoic acceptence. Well, they would learn the nature of their fates soon enough.

"But not for you Executor. Your heresy is too insidious to be redeemed by involuntary servitude." Maladar drew his bolt pistol. One shot range out. Blood and brains splattered the Chairwoman. "All heretics must be purged. Take them away." He gestured for the skulls to be cut. The lights showing active recording went dark.

Maladar was not by nature an introspective man. He observed, planned, and acted. Simple and direct. But he was not stupid either. He whispered softly. "Some ties are stronger than blood. A man carries with him the ghost of his father."

A mocking smile touched the lips of his face-mask. Two truths terrible enought to make a mother weep. But she was a long long time dead and her son now belonged to the murderers of her husband, body and soul.

"Have any of their young children or grand children taken to the Schola Progium. Let them serve the Emperor in battle against His enemies." It had worked well enough with him, after all.

[Shroom Man 777]

My god...

[Coalition]

Wow, just got finished reading so far. Very good story, very dark as well. I linked to this, from the Hive Mind thread. Will there be Tyranids in here soon?

That would be a good way to take out an Inquisitor, without using an assassin. Just dump several trillion Tyranids on the planet, and wait a few months.

[GeneralTacticus]

A question just occurred to me about one of the earlier chapters - the one where Maladar fights a Thousand Sons Sorceror. He wins by shooting holes in the Sorceror's armour and then pouring acid in.The problem is: aren't Thousand Sons Marines basically dust inside animate suits of Power Armour? Would pouring acid in even affect them overly? Given that they already have no bodies, I wouldn't have thought so. Or have I missed something fundamental here?

[Ford Prefect]

A question just occurred to me about one of the earlier chapters - the one where Maladar fights a Thousand Sons Sorceror. He wins by shooting holes in the Sorceror's armour and then pouring acid in.The problem is: aren't Thousand Sons Marines basically dust inside animate suits of Power Armour? Would pouring acid in even affect them overly? Given that they already have no bodies, I wouldn't have thought so. Or have I missed something fundamental here?

That's normal Battle Brothers, sorcerors are not dust in their armour.

[GeneralTacticus]

Ah. Well, that would certainly qualify as "something fundamental". How did that happen? IIRC, the Thousand Sons ended up that way because Ahriman tried to keep their bodies from being twisted by Chaos, and ended up depriving them of their bodies altogether; were the Sorcerors exempt from that or something?

[Ford Prefect]

Ah. Well, that would certainly qualify as "something fundamental". How did that happen? IIRC, the Thousand Sons ended up that way because Ahriman tried to keep their bodies from being twisted by Chaos, and ended up depriving them of their bodies altogether; were the Sorcerors exempt from that or something?

They were indeed. As I recall, the Rubric did not affect any of the sorcerors, because of their closer connections to the Warp. They were more stable than the normal Sons. It was also Ahriman and a cabal of Thousand Sons sorcerors.

[GeneralTacticus]

I see. Thanks for clearing that up

[Ford Prefect]

I'm just your friendly neibouroughood Thousand Son.

Oh, and IO, I just caught up. Masterful destruction of democracy there.

[technomage]

Wow, just got finished reading so far. Very good story, very dark as well. I linked to this, from the Hive Mind thread. Will there be Tyranids in here soon?

That would be a good way to take out an Inquisitor, without using an assassin. Just dump several trillion Tyranids on the planet, and wait a few months.

I doubt that there will be any Tyranids. If I'm not mistaken, this story's completed. Maladar's come full circle.

[Imperial Overlord]

This story is done. I do have the possible seeds of another Maladar story germinating in my brain, so this may not be the last one sees of Maladar. He will also continue to make appearances in In Memoria.