They slipped like drops of golden ink, silently, into the gray-green ocean of the Imperial Guard, and vanished.
A campaign of "sting operations" spanning all of Dal'yth Prime had begun.
In a narrow gorge leading to the frontline positions at Spine Ridge Heights, an Imperial convoy of more than a dozen Minotaur transports lumbered along. The convoy looked lax and exhausted. Its guards leaned against the vehicles in twos and threes, some even dozing.
High above, a raiding squad of several dozen Vespids had been circling for some time. Their compound eyes gleamed with greed, and their wings vibrated rapidly with excitement, giving off a buzzing hum.
"Target confirmed. Supply convoy, lightly guarded." The squad leader issued orders over the comms in the piercing hiss peculiar to their species. "Prepare to dive! For the Greater Good, harvest these gue'la!"
Dozens of Vespids plunged from the sky like black lightning. The Neutron Blasters in their hands were already charging, ready to reduce the pitiful convoy, soldiers and vehicles alike, to ash.
But at the exact moment they entered optimal firing range...
Everything changed.
The tarpaulins covering the transports were suddenly ripped away with tremendous force!
Beneath them were not mountains of supply crates, but row upon row of menacing, dark gun barrels, already trained on their targets!
Bolters! Sixty Boltguns in all!
The supposedly drowsy guards straightened at the same instant. They pulled back their hoods, revealing not the weary or frightened faces of mortals, but the cold faces of Astartes, resolute as granite!
"Fire." An icy voice rang out from the convoy.
A second later, the reaper's scythe fell.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!!
Sixty Boltguns roared in unison, weaving an impenetrable barrage of death that instantly engulfed the stretch of sky through which the attackers were diving.
The mobility the Vespids took such