Two Terras

Landers

Castius scrolled through data feeds, He stared at the holo map lazily floating in front of him. The entire globe was slowly spinning in tandem with the designations of his fleet. "Bloody puzzle this is." Castius muttered, the augur idents of high xenos concentration were colored in bright red. This was uniform for most Imperial instruments, the problem was not that however, it was that the entire planet was covered in massive splotches of red. Any locations capable of housing the massive fat bellies of the Imperial Guard Landers were coated in red. "Problem sir?" Peggi said from her station and Castius nodded. "Contact the Tempestor, I'm going to need her advice." He said, still fixated on the holo map. Peggi nodded and set about it, then froze. "Uh, my lord?" Castius looked over, uncharacteristic of Peggi to call him lord. "Yes?" She nodded to the massive bulkhead behind them. "The Tempestor is currently outside." Castius laughed. "Well, let her in commodore." The bulkhead slid open and revealed the ceramite armored militant commander of the Tempestus Scions. She strode in, greatcoat sweeping behind her. She soon stood below the Piercing Verdict's command throne, green lenses staring into Castius's eyes. 

"Admiral." She said simply and Castius nodded. He dismissed the holomap, and stood up, walking down from the throne. He made it a habit not to sit on that thing, His chirurgeon had advised that the throne would soon wear on his spine. So he came down its steps and moved past the Prime, they soon stood around the holomap table placed on a platform above the dozens of bridge crew. "As you can see the planet is covered in xenos. Most, if not all potential landing sites are brewing disasters." The Prime nodded, bringing a hand into the map and moving it around. "What is needed of me, my lord." She said, after surveying the map for a few seconds. "Your troops are the most experienced with void to surface combat drops, I need your regiment to hit hard and fast. Clear out the landing sites or draw the xenos away, it is your decision." The Prime nodded. "Suggestion. Orbitally bombard the landing zones, flatten them for the landers." Castius shook his head. "The population of this world is human, I doubt the natives would appreciate us orbitally bombarding their planet." The Prime was silent before a muted click rang out in her helmet. Castius knew what it was, his clearance allowed him to read the vox message through a cerebral implant. She had just ordered preparation for a full combat drop. "I take it you agree?" Castius prodded and the Prime gave him an affirmative. 

"Question."

"Go." 

"Will I have Astartes support?" 

Castius sighed. "The White Watch are a chapter bound to my command only by the order of the Lord Commander. Lets just say that the Chapter Master will listen, but I cannot guarantee their support. You will however have Thunderbolt, Avenger, and Marauder cover." The Prime cocked her head. "Air Superiority Fighters non possible?" Castius shook his head again, once the Scions reached atmosphere a secondary assault would be launched. One to maintain the skies.

Wing Commander Estevan slid the hatch of his Thunderbolt fighter closed, the catapult in the Heaven Shrike closed its prongs around his machine's wheels. Estevan looked to his left and right, the masked faces of his squadron faced him back. A simple thumbs up was all they needed. He closed his leather gloves around the throttle and stick, the aged material squeaked slightly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 5...4...3...2...1...Release. With a massive thrum his engines roared to life and strained against the catapult, the roaring fury of promethium jets echoed in Estevan's ears. The catapult then launched, pneumatics hissed and screeched as the fighter was launched out of its hold. Estevan took the reigns and brought his craft in a low dive. The fire of atmospheric re-entry licked at his cockpit, he ignored the rising heat. The g-forces slammed him with impetus. Estevan laughed, this was what he lived for. The altimeter ticked as he plummeted in a controlled fall. Then when it reached acceptable levels he pulled his stick up. The Thunderbolt shook violently but responded, and its nose climbed. Soon Estevan was flying above mountain ranges and flattened forests. His squad was all around in loose formation. A small peek and he saw the black shapes of the several dozen other squadrons sent in. He spied the long shapes of Marauder Destroyers and Obero Heavy Bombers. The small sleek shapes of Lightning Fighters swam around them like minnows, angular wings filled with racks of missiles.