Work Text:
It had been less than a month, and Subdomina Khepra was already sick of the Tomb of Ekropis. Chambers decaying from age functioned as a death trap for her troops, and seemed to do nothing to hinder the mobility of the foe. Arcane xenos mechanisms went off without warning, turning rooms that seemed safe- or at least seemed like the only way through -into abattoirs. Communications with Skitarii further in the tomb were unreliable at best, and rarely promising when they did come in. When they didn't end in a sudden scream, or worse, a terrible silence. And all that was without the enemy forces constantly being disgorged from their coffins.
She reviewed the map on the holotable. It was, as always, an unpleasant review. The Skitarii continued to hold the territory at the entrance of the tomb, if barely. The Necrons harried every potential weakness along the perimeter, but so far, her forces stood firm. She found herself falling back on familiar tactical assessments and combat protocols. She'd gone over these logic chains so many times that they would have been worn smooth, if such a thing were possible.
Rangers to pick off vulnerable troops. The collapsed areas of the Tomb were both blessing and curse, allowing Rangers to shatter foes that had already been put down, but areas with that kind of damage were crawling with Necron constructs. Scarab swarms attempted to corral Rangers into killing zones, if they didn't devour them alive in the process. In turn, Rangers could pick off the swarms before they got too close… if they spotted them in time.
Sicarians for removing critical units. The Necron leaders seemed disinclined to come out onto the battlefield to let her Skitarii shoot at them. At this point, any dead Necron was a bonus. Their slowness, both to rouse and to move, worked in her favor. The basic Necron warform was slow to react in melee, and the Sicarians were fast indeed. Carefully choreographed ambushes could relieve pressure for entire chambers. Conversely, any flaw could result in the whole squad getting stuck in a pitched battle that they couldn't hope to win.
Vanguards to wreak havoc on the front lines. At least that part was easy. The whole damned tomb was fundamentally a Necron front line. The Vanguards could go wherever they pleased and find something to kill. The trick was to keep the front lines dead after the Vanguards had come and gone, and without taking unreasonable casualties in the process. Which was where the Ranger and Sicarian cadres came in.
Their troubles didn't stop with the enemy dead, or as dead as a Necron could get. Holding territory in any of the tomb complexes was a struggle. Too often the enemy took back territory over the corpses of the Skitarii attempting to keep it. There were engagements where the best any of the Skitarii could do was converge on enemy forces and attempt to kill as many as possible before leaving, and try to come back alive in the process. And then they'd have to do it again with the next section of the front line that pushed forwards, and hope that at some point they would bleed the Necrons dry. Bleed them dry? Did the Necrons actually have blood?
Questions. The last thing she needed was more questions, especially not ones she might have to ask the Tech-Acquisitor to get the answers to. Stick to the practicalities. The firepower disparity? Unfixable, at least for now. The defensive disparity? The perimeter could be more heavily fortified, if Quartermaster Rho permitted. Not impossible, with the right argument, but difficult. Or. Or, perhaps the Quartermaster's endless supply issues could be circumvented. There were ways to construct killzones within the enemy's own territory, with the proper application of tech-lore. And high explosives.
First, assess the situation. The Tomb of Ekropis was crumbling, every tomb complex on the planet was. If there was one thing the Skitarii had gotten from their many engagements in the tomb, it was data on its structural integrity. A quick data-scrape would highlight which locations were the most likely. In the meantime, process and execute. Personally setting eyes on some of the candidate locations wouldn't hurt.
The current team was Sicarians only. They needed to collect information, move fast, and get the hell out. She, personally, would lead. Her Galvanic Rifle had the range and firing speed, and her Omnissian Bardiche had never failed her. She correlated the noospheric coordinates with her internal GPS. All correct; her starting position was located in the Tomb of Ekropis, chamber Alpha-Tertium. Entry was in T-minus two… one… Now.
The foe may have been mechanical, but they did not fight with the perfection of the Machine. The metal ranks moved as one, but with nearly-imperceptible shivers of lag. Instead of well-oiled fluidity, they faintly jerked with each movement. It gave the troops faint openings for sustained fire. Any advantage was to be seized, especially when the enemy took that much fire to put down.
Green gauss blasts met a hail of flechette fire. One or two of the enemy fell, but the ranks moved up and closed the gaps as soon as they formed, trampling over the bodies of their own before they teleported away. Khepra planted her Omnissian Bardiche, using it as a rest for her rad-rifle. A rest was not strictly necessary, but useful to have. The rad-rifle seemed to more reliably keep them from getting back up, as long as she aimed correctly. She dropped one with a shot through the chest.
The sound of metal hitting stone was lost in the clattering shriek of the flechette blasters. Skitarii screamed, briefly, before their cries were cut short by their discorporation. Or they didn't scream at all. The Necrons certainly didn't. Under battlefield conditions, the only things that could be heard from them were footfalls. Even their weapons were nearly-silent, each green bolt barely more than the ripping of a torn seam as it passed you. Or didn't.
The Sicarians were mobile, but one hit from a gauss flayer was enough to dissolve them. They put up a good fight nonetheless, firing back into the enemy line. More of the enemy fell, but even more of her troops disintegrated around her in a flash of burning hair and charring flesh. If this scouting mission worked out, it would be worth it. She hoped.
Time to close. Khepra reshouldered her rifle, snatching up the bardiche. The Necron warrior stared straight ahead, dumbly uncomprehending as she lashed out and hooked its gun out from its grip. Its rigid face maintained that look of flat incomprehension as she brought the edge of her weapon down on its metal skull, splitting it in two and dissolving it into green light. Ruststalkers followed in her wake, cutting at the warriors.
Lunge and slash. Lunge and spear. Khepra dodged the bladed edge of a gauss flayer and hooked the cabling out from under the ribcage of the foe in front, kicking it to the ground in a rotten-metal spray of green gunk. A Ruststalker behind her administered the coupe-de-grace. She looked around for the next opponent.
Nothing. Aside from her troops putting down a few stray corpses until they vanished, this room was cleared. She sent noospheric commands, expecting full data-analyses of every part of the area, and moved to the far corridor. They held this area for now. There were still more to scout.
And the foe wouldn't let them stay here for long.