Across the vast grassland, a figure as fast as lightning raced over the ground, the roar of its powerful engine trailing behind it. Promethium exhaust streamed in its wake.
Freddy gripped the handlebars of his Assault Bike and sped across the plain. As he listened to the messages coming through his helmet communicator, he cross-referenced the coordinates provided by the aerial reconnaissance craft, darting in and out and circling around. Two Neophytes on Assault Bikes followed his lead, keeping formation behind him.
The Iron Warriors weren't known for rapid assaults, and back in the Legion, he'd never encountered a motorcycle despite being part of the Rapid Deployment Army. But Astartes learned at an astonishing rate. After the Forged Steel Lord acquired these nine Assault Bikes from the Daedalus Forge World, Freddy quickly learned to handle them with ease.
The first time he saw the bikes, he'd been astonished. He'd asked the Lord where they had come from, and the Lord told him they'd been traded for with the Dark Mechanicus—without handing over any resources. The deal was that the Dark Mechanicus would deduct some of the planet's output from the books over the next few years. Put simply, it was a zero-down-payment installment plan.
Freddy didn't mind. Having the bikes would make their upcoming operations go much more smoothly. He ordered the two Neophytes behind him to keep up, and the three vehicles charged forward in a triangular formation.
Soon, they drew near their target. More than five hundred people were crossing the grassland ahead, completely unaware of what was about to happen to them.
At Freddy's command, two bikes circled the crowd clockwise while the third went counterclockwise. The frightened people huddled together as they were surrounded, pointing their wooden spears and bows at the Space Marines.
As the bikes steadily tightened the circle, the crowd grew more and more compressed. A dozen or so warriors tried to rush forward with spears or arrows, but their weapons couldn't pierce Power Armour—not even Scout Armor. The warriors were quickly cut down by the twin bolters mounted on the front of the Assault Bikes.
The Neophytes soon threw Stasis Grenades and raised their launchers to fire Stasis Shells. As the pale green chemical gas drifted through the crowd, the weaker people quickly collapsed.
Freddy remained unmoved. Holding a Net Gun, he led the Neophytes in tightening the cordon. They could handle a small job like this. He needed to stay alert for greater threats.
A greater threat soon appeared. Just as only half the crowd remained standing, one of the Chaos Cultists—a figure dressed in blue feathers—raised a staff. Flames began to spout from it as he tried to threaten the Neophytes.
Seeing this, Freddy fired his Net Gun at the sorcerer with blinding speed. But the sorcerer seemed to sense it coming. He raised a hand, and the net—designed to deliver both anesthetic and electric shocks—was flung away.
When his first attack failed, Freddy squeezed the trigger on the handlebars. Bang, bang, bang! Several explosive rounds flew toward the sorcerer. The first three struck his psychic shield, but the fourth hit him directly, blasting his body in two.
Freddy didn't dare risk a second chance to capture a Psyker like this. If the first shot failed, he killed them immediately. Their potential was far too unpredictable. He'd personally seen a human Psyker twist a Space Marine into a knot.
After all, their mission was to help the Dark Mechanicus capture Servitor material. The Psykers were just a bonus. It was best if they could capture one, but it didn't matter if they couldn't.
Once the Neophytes had knocked almost everyone unconscious, Freddy immediately gave an order:
"Nine o'clock, thirty kilometers out. Around six hundred people."
The three bikes soon sped off in another direction.
The several hundred people lying on the ground fell fast asleep, unaware that they had already entered a dark future.
A dozen minutes later, several ordinary transport trucks pulled up. Dozens of soldiers wearing Flak Armour and carrying Laser Guns climbed out, along with several armed Servitors and a Dark Mechanicus Tech-Priest.
They efficiently chained and shackled the unconscious people, then dragged them like livestock into the steel cages built into the truck beds.
The Tech-Priest surveyed the people on the ground and spoke in a hoarse voice:
"Cargo overload. Transport trucks cannot bear the load. Forced transport will reduce speed to the temporary airfield by thirty-two percent."
The Tech-Priest turned to the Planetary Defense Force officer beside him and issued an order:
"Reduce the cargo by one hundred and seventy-two units."
"Understood," the Planetary Defense Force officer replied.
He quickly led his soldiers in shooting the people on the ground, killing the excess cargo. Once they had finished, they drove off in the trucks.
Meanwhile, on a hillside thirty kilometers from Quetzalcoatl's Pyramid, Peter and Anthony stood looking toward the city ahead—a place that hardly deserved to be called a city. Haphazard stone and wooden structures and tents crowded together in row upon row. The district looked as though it held a million people, but in fact it held fewer than three hundred thousand.
Curiously, a central avenue several hundred meters wide ran through the middle of the district. Peter didn't know how the Chaos Cultists had divided things up, but the Tzeentch and Khorne Cultists had indeed set aside their grudges for now, keeping their distance and living in peace.
The land surrounding the city was covered in forest after forest. The trees still bore green leaves; after all, this was the last place on the continent where it still rained. Unfortunately, even the last of the rain had stopped ten days ago.
Looking over the region, Peter saw that their encirclement had been steadily tightening, herding nearly all the Chaos Cultists on the continent into this trap of a city. A few might have slipped through, but that didn't matter. Five to ten years of planned drought would leave them as nothing but bones.
Beside him, Sacks reported to the Forged Steel Lord:
"My lord, the Auxiliary Army has begun gradually tightening the cordon around the perimeter. The woods here are just too dense, though, and they're causing us quite a bit of trouble."
Peter glanced down at the former prisoner. Now wearing Arbitrator Carapace Armor, with a pair of pistols and a ceremonial sword at his waist, Sacks was starting to look the part. A new insignia had been stamped on his chest as well: a red spear piercing a silver shield.
The insignia belonged to the War Band's Mortal Auxiliary. The force was called the Spear of Hector. At first, the Lasidream people and the soldiers from the other city-states had argued over what to name the army.
The Lasidream people wanted to call it "Ares' Sword," while the City-State of Nopé wanted "Miltiades." The other city-states each had their own ideas, too. In the end, after discussing it among themselves, they decided to search further back in history for a name that everyone could agree on.
They finally settled on "Hector," the name of an upright hero from local ancient legends, who lived before the God-Emperor's emissary arrived. That was enough to satisfy the allied forces of the city-states.
Anthony still stood beside the squad leader, Chainsword at his waist. After the leader explained things to him, he'd gradually relinquished command of the squad and become a bodyguard instead.
Peter replied to Sacks in an even tone:
"Don't worry. I'll take care of the forest. You just need to keep the Auxiliary Army in order."
"Remember, the army you lead will eventually be sent to fight in other star systems. If I find that they're all useless when the time comes, I'll put you in a Penitent Engine."
Sacks felt a chill run down his spine. He'd seen what happened to the people inside Penitent Engines; it was worse than death. He hurriedly replied:
"Of course, of course, my lord. The training over the past few years has already produced good results. Just give them a few more years, and they'll be a proper Astra Militarum force."
Peter kept looking toward the town and replied:
"They'd better be."
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