Overwatch

No glories would be sung of these battles. There would be no grand sagas of honor and sacrifice, no rousing tales told to fresh faced Neophytes hanging on the every word of their Veterans. There would be none, for there would be no witnesses.

Unseen, yet utterly vital to the success of the Kill Team, the conflict raged. The scope of the engagement was vast, all combatants involved being pushed to their utmost limits in dizzying displays of skill and stubborn determination. Defensive lines across the entire Industrial Sector were breached, then brutally retaken; only to be abandoned as the fight moved on at a breakneck pace. No quarter was given, none received. Within such a frantic maelstrom Buteo found himself perfectly suited.

For two planetary rotations the Raven Guard marine had glided silently through the hive's underbelly. During that time he had driven a number Inquisitorial data-spikes into communication lines throughout the city, focusing mainly on the sections of industrial spires the team knew they would be drawn into. In addition, more than a few of the lines were rigged for demolition.

Now drawing upon his years of peerless expertise, Buteo was in his element. With his armor directly linked to the communications array, all was laid bare before him. The battle for control of the Sector's information flow was not to be fought with bolter and blade, but across the airwaves and hard-lines at superhuman speeds. He dove into the vox channels, data lines, and command relays. Though the enemy clearly had multiple operators working against him, they had never dealt with an Astartes before, much less one as steeped in communications warfare as a son of Corvus Corax.

A predator amongst a flock of prey items, he set about his business with a practiced efficiency. He brute-forced open spoor packets and deciphered their contents before terminating inbuilt safety protocols, then allowing the messages to flow uninhibited, though tagged. False data requests were sent down the most heavily trafficked lines to clog and impede information flow. Voice patterns stored, code phrases cataloged, primary and secondary relay nodes identified. Security responses were scrambled, breaking down trust in the chain of command. Importantly, the locations of several compromised anti-aircraft emplacements were revealed, including two that had remained dormant during the ambush on their Thunderhawk. A combination of blown det-charges along key lines and high-order termination codes then bottle necked and locked each battery of guns in turn.

By the time the Thunderhawk's shattered wreckage careened into one of the great hive spires, a mere three minutes since the wall guns had opened fire, Buteo had a new measure of the enemy the team now faced. Certainly not amateurs nor disorganized rabble. The sector-wide jamming of the airwaves was evidence enough of that. There was xeno tech at play, of Tau origin if his suspicions were correct. The subsonic crystal arrays the blueskins were known to employ were ideal for interference across large areas. Additionally, such devices would operate with power supplies and data links disconnected from the main hive infrastructure, meaning they would have to be rooted out and destroyed one by one. That level of integration, coupled with the number and efficiency of the operators deployed against him, also indicated the cult was much more established than a simple worker uprising led by promises of liberation at the hands of benevolent aliens.

Disturbingly, while a number of the logged voice patterns were that of the insidious Tau, there had been no mention of the oft-touted "Greater Good" that was the hallmark of those devious xeno's expansionist propaganda. Neither had any diplomatic channels been opened to the Planetary Governor by their enigmatic Water Caste. Such deviations from the protocols set forth by their so-called Ethereals were nearly unheard of, and suggested deeper forces at play than even the Hereticus Inquisitor had intuited. Unfortunately, the questions could not be pursued with the mission in such a precarious state.

Securing code packets and voice logs to the databank in his suit, Buteo discretely withdrew from the communication battles and prepared for the next phase of his war. The team's hasty evacuation from the stricken transport had seen them scattered across the breadth of the sector. The efforts being poured into jamming so large an area were clearly intended to slow or stop any survivors from mounting a cohesive response to the ambush, while also allowing the cult to establish control of the narrative as to why the hive's anti-air defenses had been activated. Confident his actions thus far would hamper the cult in those efforts, he now moved to the aid of his battle brothers.

Disrupting the coordination of the Astartes might have worked on a more bullish chapter, on less seasoned marines, or simply those lacking deeply specialized Deathwatch wargear. The Ordo Xenos was another organization entirely, drawing upon thousands of years of experience combating innumerable alien species the width and breadth of the galaxy. As such, any transponders and locator beacons they installed within the armor of their Kill Teams were of robust and esoteric design. Crafted from incredibly rare materials sourced in secret from the Cult Mechanicus, and keyed to resonances known only to the Inquisition, it was through these ingenious devices that Buteo aimed to regain mission stability for the Team.

He could see them upon the data-auger's screen; nine points of light, islands amongst the darkened sea of affected hive. The first three to be tagged burned the brightest, as was expected. Tarkhan, moving at speed, his suit connected to the mighty power plant thrumming within his assault bike. Diocledes, ensconced within that veritable fortress of adamantium, complete with enhanced communication and sensory arrays for just such occasions. Finally Mortimer, their Tech Marine, whose nearly eighty-six percent mechanical body and bulky servo-harness demanded a monstrous amount of energy, provided by the Marine's formidable bio-support systems and integrated nuclear generators.

Buteo's hearts froze.

Mortimer's beacon was not alone broadcasting from that location. The transponder of Captain Esteban glowed with unusual intensity at nearly the exact same coordinates. Buteo read what little information could be transmitted through the locators. The Captain appeared to have suffered a severe amount of structural damage to his armor, to such a degree that a large amount of power in his suit was actually being supplied by Mortimer via forced connection as the Tech Marine enacted emergency field repairs. It was clear from even limited data that more drastic measures would be needed. Shifting priorities, Buteo now scanned the augers for one signature above all; Desmond, their Apothecary. Stabilizing Captain Esteban would not be possible without his peerless knowledge of Astartes biology and suite of chirurgeonry equipment.

Locating the Hospitaller marine's ident-marker two point six kilometers from the downed Captain's location, Buteo prepared his next actions, a cold fury beginning to seep into him at the sheer cowardice of the xenos arrayed before them.

The cult had failed in their attempt to destroy the Kill Team in a single, decisive blow.

Buteo would be the start to their education in the lessons of regret.