Notes on the Andaran Operation
Letter I
Noble Thonicians,
Even when we leave Thonis we do so to protect it, for each world within the Imperium is made safe by the strength of its neighbours. Efforts to colonise the Iolan Reaches must succeed if we are to enjoy wider trade and greater security, and it was with this in my heart that I set out to the Andaras system aboard the strike cruiser Preceptor, accompanied by half of our Chapter's Third Company.
Andaras Prime is a new colony but a productive one for its size, primarily exporting timber and oil. With supplies being scarce in the Reaches, I dare say it is also a potential importer of Thonician goods, given a sufficiently fast or well-armed freighter.
The colonists are of Tokrazian heritage, and retain their mercantile culture. Where Thonicia's population varies considerably in dress and appearance, Tokrazians generally seem to have rich brown complexions and little patience for elaborate or impractical dress. Even their governor dresses conservatively, and seemed to verge on showing distaste towards my badges of office, from helm crest to cloak. Despite this, I found the Andarans to be gracious hosts even in the midst of the crisis they faced.
Their plea for aid stemmed from an ork ship that landed fifty miles south of Orm Nabak, the capital. Having found the city protected by orbital weaponry and void shielding, the avaricious greenskins decided to attack from the ground. As you can imagine, a new colony will usually lack the military strength to field serious numbers of ground troops, and despite the brave efforts of civilian militias, the orks penetrated the city and set about looting fuel, food, and even one of the city's six shield generators.
Upon our arrival the operational mark was struck the moment I ordered the Preceptor to open fire upon the ork ship on the surface. Orks are generally weak voidsmen and my hope was that, even through thick atmosphere, the Preceptor's cannons might be sufficient to destroy it and much of the greenskins' capabilities. Sadly it was not so. I was of course prepared for this eventuality, and had already dispatched a force under the command of Praetor Antigonus Nerva to aid Orm Nabak's beleaguered defenders. He came upon the beasts as they looted and pillaged the fruits of the Andarans' honest labour. With the militia's strength exhausted, the orks had the run of the outskirts. Nerva's initial combat drop was a success. His force routed the orks with ease, and our heavier equipment and support auxilia were already being brought planetside to aid the population and help restore basic amenities.
Upon landing I learned that Nerva’s engagement hadn’t been entirely without incident; he was forced to intervene when the enemy warlord made a foolhardy rush at our lines. Nerva’s intercession probably saved Squad Cassander, but his ruptured breastplate and cracked ribcage left him struggling to breathe. It seemed a worthwhile sacrifice, though, for we felt we had already turned the situation strongly to our favour, and I gave him leave to conclude the matter as he saw fit.
But then, dear Thonicians, the enemy revealed their true quality.
As Nerva's force pursued the foe through the streets of Orm Nabak, he followed the received wisdom when dealing with orks: to give them no quarter or time to recover. They arrive in waves, and like waves, they rush in, break, retreat, and rush in again. One must give them no time to regroup. Still injured, Nerva led his force to the very outskirts of the city, and it was here that it became apparent that the fleeing warlord wasn't merely running away from his pursuers, but towards a redoubt the orks had earlier prepared, with a reserve force lying in wait.
Such forward thinking is almost unheard of from their kind. We would later learn of their fondness for both aerial warfare and stealth tactics: an altogether unheard of combination. Some research in the archives reveals this to be indicative of a militaristic subculture, and while not without precedent, this band seemed to be the most organised specimens of that barbarous race I had ever encountered in my long years of service, both with the Ultramarines and the Cobalt Scions.
The regrouped orks forced us to reappraise the situation. These were not hooligans, but an organised military force, albeit small enough that we had the means to handle them. Nerva’s detachment was forced back, and while we waited for our heavier equipment to land, we spread out to form a cordon, watching for signs of renewed attack. Our priority, having ejected the orks from the city, was that they should not be allowed back into a population centre.
They returned, of course, and as misfortune would have it, poor Nerva was closest when they did. It was Sergeant Lytanus Cato who spotted the onrushing beasts, and Nerva—bringing reinforcements—sound found our numbers barely sufficient to keep them at bay. The orks were repelled, but at substantial cost. Here was the first time Cobalt Scions died on Andaran soil, but even as they fell, they never gave ground. Nerva himself faced their warlord a second time, and for a second time was injured for his efforts. I confess to you, son or daughter of Thonis, that my desire to avenge my Praetor’s privations vied with my desire to let him fight and win his own battles.
But I am proud to tell you that while every brother of Nerva’s force was left injured or dead by the encounter, the orks’ fury was spent not on civilians but on blue armour, and they withdrew to lick their wounds. Truly, that is what it means to be one of our phratry. I elevated Nerva from the ranks because I felt he understood the moral duty of a Cobalt Scion, and I am pleased to see him prove me right.
By this time we were in no condition to press the attack, much as it was tactically desirable. We hunkered down in Orm Nabak, and Apothecary Eudemus and his helix serfs set to returning our force to readiness with all haste, all while Kelsus and the Phratry Munitorus set to bolstering the city’s perimeter with automated weaponry, enabling us to operate further afield without risking our gains.
Nerva’s injuries gave me some concern, and I told him as much, but he was determined to take the fight back to the orks. I searched his face for signs of mindless vengeance. Such blood debts are to be taken methodically from an enemy, not through rash action. Truly, I believe his desire was to prove his utility. I was proud of his performance, and yet he felt his failure to best Guluk in personal combat undermined his right to the honorific of Praetor. With some misgivings, I gave him leave to infiltrate the ork lines and see if he could gather any intelligence that might tell us where the city’s stolen void shield generator could be found.
Meanwhile, we received a complaint from the Mechanicus that one of their outposts hundreds of miles to the north had fallen silent. We thought it a nonsense, with no other reports of ork activity in the area, but it was strange enough that I agreed to investigate, and dispatched a force under the watchful eye of Verus, our company’s chaplain.
While the two operations were underway I took time to discuss plans to bolster the city’s defensibility with the governor and our lead techmarine, Hadrios Kelsus. Matters such as this take time and planning, and we had barely gotten to the substance of it when Verus voxed back with his report.
Sure enough he saw no ork activity, but something altogether more unexpected: aeldari. And not just any aeldari, but the xenos witch Taliesin of Iybraesil. I’ve crossed swords with that pompous mystic before, and his presence here was unwelcome indeed. In typical manipulative fashion he fled from Verus’ force, and offered unsolicited information: that a terrorist cell led by a powerful psyker was lying dormant in the Andaran city of Kurand.
Shortly after that, Nerva voxed that his infiltration had been successful, and that it seemed the shield generator had been taken back to the orks’ ship, and possibly already installed. Unwelcome news, but unsurprising too. Retrieving the device would be impossible without comprehensively breaking the xenos, something we are all too happy to do, but which would take time.
In the short term, lest the meddlesome Taliesin also plan to warn the psyker’s cult of our presence (to offer us greater distraction), we acted on that. Cults being a lesser threat than organised orks, I ordered Nerva south to Kurand, whereupon he found and crushed the insurgents. They were ill prepared, but clearly expecting a fight. The aeldari witch’s doing, no doubt. We mistakenly thought that was the end of them. It can be this way sometimes; one really needs every branch of Imperial might. In this instance, the agents of the Inquisition are better suited to knowing when insurgents have been dealt with in full, and the ancient histories speak of the folly of any Astartes, even a primarch, who believes himself to be the solution to every problem.
Thinking we had dealt with the cult, and now knowing we needed to fully break the orks in a ground war (rather than forcing them to leave the planet and then simply destroying their ship in void combat - thus costing the city part of its shield network), we embarked upon the time-honoured tradition of cutting the head off the snake. As many a rebel and alien leader has learned, when you face the Astartes, you are in far more danger than your underlings. Such is the folly of resistance to Imperial Supremacy.
Nerva begged to be allowed to lead the operation. I confess by now I was eager to be among the enemy rather than engaging in further planning discussions with the governor, but I could see Nerva needed this, and against my better judgement, I gave him leave to prosecute our enemy’s ruin.
To his credit, he was partially successful. He cut deep into enemy territory, provoked a fight, and with the assistance of Sergeant Ladtratus’ gauntlets, delivered a sucking chest wound to Guluk. The coup de grace was tragically denied by the spirited defence raised by the orks, and Nerva was forced to withdraw to prevent losing too many men. He seemed far happier to have at least bested the ork in combat, and if simple vengeance be enough to steady the mind of my lieutenant, then I welcome it.
Of course the orks are rarely ones to sit down and accept their knocks, and they hounded Nerva all the way to our new staging post in Kurand. When Nerva returned, all bestial hell returned with him. I took up my sword, and admit I did so with some relish. As Nerva and the wounded filed past us, we took position on the high ground and awaited the enemy’s advance.
At which point, the unexpected occurred: Taliesin’s host appeared, pursued by a great number of cultists, along with packs of slavering alien hunting beasts. I was in a frustrating position: fight three forces equal to my own, or find a way to defeat them in sequence. With necessity having forced me to cooperate with Taliesin once before, I reluctantly offered terms: fight with us against the cult and the orks, then leave all Imperial assets alone henceforth or face immediate and terminal retribution. One cannot know the mind of the alien, but he appeared relieved to have his retreat assured. We remained suspicious of the aeldari, expecting them to turn on us if we should look vulnerable, but fortunately the strategy was effective. Seeing us presenting a somewhat united front, the cult turned their assault toward the orks, who responded in kind, and thereafter it was a simple matter of clearing away the dead. Our armies largely untouched, marine watched craftworlder for signs of betrayal. I calculated their force to be at only a slight disadvantage to ours; an engagement would be costly in the extreme, and we would lose all hope of further aiding the Andarans.
Slowly, and with guns trained upon each other, both parties remained true to their word. Taliesin has not interfered since, though I doubt his word will remain good in perpetuity.
This, then, is where things stand: the orks bloodied but as yet unbroken, their warlord injured but alive, and the cult larger than we initially believed. I remain optimistic that the colony will endure, but spare a thought for the citizens of the Reaches; their lives are more precarious than your own. When you next leave an offering at your family shrine, think of the Andarans, and the sons of Guilliman who died for them.
Until my next, With sincerity,
Martellus Lucullus, Third Consul, Cobalt Scions
Letter II
Noble Thonicians,
What is success? If we say it is achieving everything we would like, we will never reach such a goal, for humanity's hopes are infinite and its resources limited. No, real success lies in achieving the best theoretical result for the greatest number of people within the constraints of practicality.
Of course the coward may take refuge behind exaggerated claims of practical limits. I will do no such thing, for in this message I shall tell of a greater success containing a lesser failure.
When we arrived on Andaras Prime's capital Orm Nabak, we learned the orks had stolen one of the city's six shield generators, and I pledged my Scions would not only send the xenos running, but take that generator back in the process.
In the former, we were successful. The orks were driven first from the capital, then in an ever shrinking perimeter around their grounded vessel, unable to leave thanks to the Preceptor awaiting them in orbit. Shifting them in such a manner was hard work, and my Praetor Antigonus Nerva deserves much credit for our success.
With orbital supremacy and a shrinking cordon, we had time on our side, and success was inevitable.
Until, of course, a new constraint emerged. A squadron of ork vessels, thrice the threat we already fought to contain, was detected heading for Andaras' other colony: Ekrete.
Intercepting ork ships before they land, when possible, is always the best way. They are poor spacefarers but savage soldiers. The Preceptor had to depart within ninety minutes of hearing this news if we were to intercept the orks, and this less than compatible with the two or three days of careful preparatory work I originally envisaged we'd need to reach and board the Ork Royul.
But I had made a promise to the governor, and my vanity would not let me cast it aside. I deployed our full force, a demi-company of Astartes, against the orks' prepared defences. Without the time for a preliminary bombardment, we would be forced to carve a hole in their walls in the moment.
The desperate plan of a man with no time, I'm sure you'll agree, and one for which I'd chastise an officer of the Imperial Guard. But we are not Imperial Guard; we exist to attempt such things as would break a mortal human. The next fight would occur in the void, at range. If half my force spent a fleet engagement lying in the apothecarion's cots, it would make no difference. A dice worth rolling, I felt.
We advanced upon the xenos, assailed by their heavy armour and aircraft. They wisely hid from our guns until the last, then came out as a rusted, stinking mob: cleavers and axes and spittle-flecked maws. We received their charge as a single azure phalanx and repelled them, but it cost much of our strength and, crucially, much of our time. My command staff and I stood at the gates of their perimeter facing down one of their heavy tanks. Much of their force had routed, fleeing towards the great dark silhouette of the ship, but the distance was too great for the time we had left. Ultimately, our last-minute attempt had failed, and it was better to recognise that than to make a foolhardy go of rescuing the endeavour.
The naval engagement was far more decisive; we came up behind the orks quietly, shields down, reactor cool. They never saw us. We opened with the Preceptor's prow bombardment cannon, destroying the lead ship. As the other two peeled off to either side, trying to spot us, we flew between them. Each raider received a full broadside to their stern. The engagement lasted nine minutes, but to have it we had left Andaras Prime, and by the time we returned, the Ork Royul was long gone.
I may have failed to get that shield back, but as I write this the Phratry Munitorus are bolstering the automated ground defences of both the capital and the surrounding towns, leaving the survivors to rebuild in relative safety. Better still, Ekrete never knew the flames of war.
I must not feel guilty; we tried, hard. The governor understood. In military terms the Andaran affair was a success, even if we did not get everything we might have liked, and even if it was bought with that most ubiquitous of Imperial currencies: loyal blood.
Rest assured, that is the way of the chapter; to do as much as we can for the people of the Imperium until the last opportunity, but to recognise when our efforts are better spent on those that may yet be helped.
Until my next, With sincerity,
Martellus Lucullus, Third Consul, Cobalt Scions