Warp Rift #17 Supplement - Tyranid War - part II.pdf - Warp Rift - trzeci

Horizon

Warp Rift

Presents

Reg Steiner

A Tyranid War

Chapters 5 & 6

Cover Model: Giulio Taverna, Cover Photoshop Claudio Sansone

Internal Art: Stugmeister, Juddski

Chapter 5

A Trap, and A Warlord

I.______

A year was spent gathering and analyzing the data. Six months to choose the site. Four years to build the

factories and recruit. And through it all, the old warrior marked the progress of his enemies. His one good eye

needed artificial enhancement a lot of the time now, but it was hardly noticed. There was too much to do.

The brotherhood had been rebuilt. Not with just recruits, but with the new androids from the new factories.

Each of the one thousand warriors in the brotherhood had one hundred androids to command.

The old warrior had insisted that all be outfitted in the same armor, even the androids. The old warrior had

plans for one hundred and one thousand fighters in jet black armor, yes.

The old warrior had enjoyed watching the progress of his enemies. The steady advance of the Tyranids. The

nearly futile attempts by the human empire, and other races, to stem the tide of the Tyranid advance. There was

grim satisfaction in watching his two enemies waste themselves. It had been no surprise that the hated Emperor

had massed his fleets, and attacked the Tyranids. Or even that portions of other race's fleets had joined in the

attack. What the old warrior was expecting was for the Emperor's fleets to get the same rough treatment as had the

renegade fleet. The surprise was the way the Tyranids reacted.

The Tyranid fleet had continued to expand through the Eastern segment of the galaxy, and so were less

concentrated when the Imperial fleets showed up. How the old warrior would have liked to see that battle that took

place. For two years, the two sides slashed and smashed each other, bringing more and more forces to bear. But,

all the old warrior could do was read the intercepted message and intel traffic about that grand fight.

Then the big surprise.

The Tyranid Hive fleet had broken up into thousands of separate fleets - and each had taken off in its own

direction. It was as if a bomb had gone off, with each piece rocketing off in its own direction. This had changed the

way the war would go, forever. This had changed the way the old warrior would plan his revenge. If he could not

destroy all the invaders, he could certainly destroy any part of them that came his way, now.

The old warrior got up, and turned his back on the endless displays of reports, data, and other unimportant time

wasting static. He walked over to the arch that looked out, his new power armor humming pleasingly. He stopped

and stared out from under the arch.

From his fortress on the ridgeline, the old warrior looked down on the broad plains.

Some of the "buffalo" were just visible. The giant slugs were as big as that ancient animal. Best of all, they

were powerfully psychic. Not intelligent, just enormously powerful psychic transmitters. The Tyranid enemy

seemed to be irresistibly drawn to any source of psychic power. Bait for the old warrior's trap. This planet was

doubly important. The plant life here almost all manufactured an oil that was vital to the renegade war machine.

The old warrior could have anything he wanted for this planet's defense.

From this vantage point, the old warrior could see that a lot of work was in progress, as well. The brotherhood,

the androids, and the insane mutant slaves were all busy with the preparations to greet the Tyranids.

The old warrior had learned much about this alien enemy, during the years of preparations and years of

watching. The old warrior went back to his panels of displays. One had said a large Tyranid hive cell was headed

toward this place he defended. They would arrive soon. He and his forces would be ready.

II._____

The Tyranid hive mind had a migraine headache. The pain of so much separation, so many "cells" of the mind

were lost, that a wicked hang over is the nearest comparison to the pain. The hive mind could not concentrate so

well, could not evaluate on so many levels as before. But at least it was alive, still able to plot and plan.

The assault by the thousands and thousands of warships, from several races, had been unprofitable to the

Tyranids. The Tyranid hive fleets had not been concentrated to meet so many enemies at once, instead, they were

spread over a wide region, trying to convert enough Biomass to regain the strength lost on the long journey. The

losses from the lengthy battle were too great, with too little gained in return. The Tyranids could not concentrate

fast enough, with enough ships, to defeat the enemy fleets. The need to feed came first. So, a different course was

chosen. Hive brood ships, with attendant warcraft, set out in thousands of directions, away from the battle. One

such segment, the largest, made of hundreds of brood ships, and thousands of warcraft, headed for the galactic core.

This was the heart of the hive mind. It would survive. The other segments might grow into a hive mind too. It was

a risk that had to be taken. The hive mind sensed a single will behind its enemies resistance. This dangerous threat

must be found, its source eliminated.

III.____

Lynx tried to ignore the four tone signal as it rang again and again. She would have to speak to this comm

officer for being so insistent. Plainly, Lynx did not want to answer. Pen was planet side, waiting to escort the

planet's governor out to the cruiser. He knew he was under suspicion, and so was reluctant. Pen would find a way.

She had gotten quite good. But, Pen could not help now. Lynx was at the mercy of the demands and interruptions

that Pen normally screened.

Lynx gave a sigh of resignation in unison with the eighth series of tones, and answered.

"I gave orders not to be disturbed - for any reason," she growled menacingly, "this had better be good."

The young comm officer was taken aback, she had not been warned to hold traffic meant for the Inquisitor.

Her predecessor had claimed she was exhausted, and so hurried away. The Inquisitor was waiting, her complexion

darkening.

"I was not told to hold your messages, Inquisitor," she said, as evenly as she could manage, "but I would have

rang you for this anyway. We are receiving a series of top priority videos, you have always ordered them flashed

straight to you in the past." The young lieutenant at the comm station waited for the ax to fall.

Lynx stared at the comm officer for a moment. The mystery of where in the galaxy all the mutants were going,

and why, would never be solved with all these interruptions. Millions of beings had to be going somewhere. As an

investigator for the Tribunal of Magistrates, Lynx was becoming a dismal failure. All these distractions only made

an already sour mood worse. Lynx decided not to vent her frustration on this officer any further.

"Send the messages to screen system two," Lynx said only a little less gruffly, "and notify the ship captain to

put the ship on standby alert. These videos may require immediate departure." Lynx disconnected with a snap.

Twenty minutes later the alarms throughout the cruiser signaled imminent emergency departure. The cruiser's

shuttle that had been on the planet screamed back into space, less the planetary governor it had been sent for. The

Inquisitor wanted her aide back, now , by the stars!

The shuttle hanger doors had not even started to close, when the great cruiser shuddered from being forced into

emergency acceleration. Pen recognized the signs. It had been two years, but it could only mean that this ship

would again be dealing with the Tyranids. Pen struggled to hurry to the Inquisitor's chambers against the rising

acceleration. The "G" force compensators always seemed just a little behind, and could not completely cancel out

acceleration or maneuver caused "G" forces.

Pen entered the familiar room, and stopped dead in her tracks. Lynx was staring straight at her. The burning

glare was almost physical. There was also a young man in the room. The gray jumper, and striped black and

yellow left shoulder, identified him as aide to an Inquisitor!

"Pen, I no longer require your services as an aide." Lynx said flatly. "I believe you are ready for new duties."

The arrowhead shaped cruiser hit the jump point with such velocity that an energy flash resulted, and a ripple in

real space that would cause minor earthquakes back on the governor's planet.

IV._____

The video screens and holos were full. Every view showed the approach of the vast hive fleet. The

commander felt he would burst from satisfaction, his red and black armor unable to hold it in.

The commander spoke his acknowledgments into the voice channel. The renegade fleet would make its

appearance as scheduled, after the fight on the planet will have been on for some time. The lack of a space defense

was necessary to draw in the enemy, and besides, it was also necessary to the personal ambitions of the

commander. To take a personal hand in the slaughter of Tyranid warriors was the commander's driving ambition.

Through those efforts the commander had just been promoted to Warlord.

The Warlord shifted and changed the views. All was in readiness. The millions and millions of mutants that

had been drawn here were armed and ready in their slum towns. The robot defenses were active and tracking the

enemy. The warriors of the brotherhood, his marines, and the androids were waiting in their underground bunkers,

waiting for the signal to burst forth and begin the retribution. The Warlord had studied every detail on how the

Tyranids would fight and try to consume this planet. He could not be more ready. His one good eye gleamed with

anticipation.

V.______

The Hive Mind of the Tyranids felt driven for the first time. Driven by hunger. Driven by the need to find the

source of the will behind the Tyranid's enemies. Now the hive mind thought it could satisfy both hungers at once.

The planet before it emanated a powerfully strong psychic presence. And the logic of being so near the galactic

center was not lost on the hive mind. The psychic senses of the Tyranids told the hive mind that the planet had

many minds, was rich in Biomass, and that there was a consuming hate of the Tyranids there. It was decided. This

planet must die. Thousands and thousands of ships, and uncounted millions of warriors set about the tasks that

would bring about that end.

VI._____

The Warlord stood on the ramparts of his fortress. The battle now underway did not need his personal

direction, it was now in the hands of each of the fighters and local commanders.

The enemy was landing all over the planet. They were slaughtering the big slugs grazing on the plains. The

Tyranids were driving against the lines of mutants outside their towns. Whole formations and masses of Tyranid

warriors were rampaging across the landscape.

Just before stepping out onto the ramparts, the Warlord had checked the progress of his enemies. He noted one

consistent trend in the Tyranid way of war, during his studies. Wherever there was resistance, there the Tyranids

would concentrate. The Tyranids were behaving that way now. It was the one thing the Warlord was counting on,

if his trap was to work.

The Warlord's train of thought was interrupted by the sudden volley fire from the remotely controlled weapons

turrets above him. Then the enemy had broken through the mutant lines at the mouth of the valley. Good. His one

good eye strained as the helmet receptors magnified the images. The Warlord could see that masses of ten foot tall

Tyranid warriors were swarming toward the fortress. There must be a million of them. Too bad for them. The

cold hate felt like a cold knife in the heart.

The Warlord went in and down to the courtyard. Ten thousand androids and a hundred picked brother warriors

were waiting in the courtyard, and in the emplacements around the fortress. Through the open gateway they

watched the Tyranid horde swarm up the valley, watched as the energy canon tore holes in the packed ranks of the

Tyranids. But nothing would stop the momentum of the Tyranid charge. The enemy was almost to the fortress.

The Warlord raised the transmitter in his hand, pressed a button. Immediately, a whole series of brilliant

flashes rippled down both sides of the valley. The Tyranid swarms were hit on both sides from hidden gun

positions. Then hundreds of openings appeared and disgorged a hundred thousand androids and warriors in black

armor. It was a black tide that swept down from both sides of the valley. The fifteen foot tall renegade war striders

emerged from hiding, and began to blaze away with all their weapons. The Tyranid warriors turned and charged to

meet the oncoming black wave of renegades. Then clouds of smoke and dust obscured everything, illuminated

redly from explosions within.

The Warlord had waited long enough, he stepped to the front of his personal guard and gave the signal.

Without a sound, the packed ranks of black and red armored warriors advanced.

The Warlord roared his battle cry as his marines engaged the forefront of the Tyranid host. Rage filled his very

being as he came into close combat with the source of his most virulent hatred. Satisfaction, that bordered on

orgasmic, flashed through what was left of the Warlord's body, as he saw Tyranid warrior after warrior go down

before his weapons.

Then, of a sudden, the old warrior was in a clear space, there were no enemy or friendly warriors near. He had

emerged behind the line of enemy warriors. He looked all around him. Over there, a big war strider is half covered

with Tyranid fighters, their weapons blasting and slashing through the armor. On the other side, the Tyranids are

no longer stopped, but are pushing back his brother marines! For the first time, the Warlord notices that there are

piles of bodies in black armor mixed in with the red of the big Tyranid warriors, and amongst the blue of the nearly

human sized Tyranid fighters. Too many of the black armored bodies.

The Warlord turned back toward his fortress, determined to fight his way through again. Coming from behind

the Tyranids, the smoke, dust and confusion masking his sudden attacks from behind, the old warrior easily broke

through again. His warriors were retreating, backing toward the fortress under the relentless onslaught of Tyranid

ferocity. Sometimes a big, red Tyranid monstrosity would strike down two or three brother marines, before being

blasted to pieces itself. Sometimes a marine would roast four, five, or more enemies before being struck down.

The warlord reached the wall of his fortress, turned, leaned his back to the wall, and started blasting away with

determined precision.

Warp Rift #17 Supplement - Tyranid War - part II.pdf

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