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Virgil nods. I shall do my best. When me loose men, I want it to be because of the enemy, not because of us. He immidiately files an emergency addendum to his other requests to add chem and biotox resistant clothing and either full hazmat suits (added as critical for the scouts) or rebreather masks (for everyone else) to their kit.
For Virgil, the calm before the storm of battle is his most trying time. Immediately after the meeting, before specific orders are even given, he schedules seventeen different meetings with various regimental quartermasters and Forge Logisticae. The gears of industry and logistics start turning even faster than they were before.
He then leaves the machine to do its work, only intervening when something goes truly (and in one instance literally) off the rails.
As an aferthought, Virgil puts in a request to the Hive scrap yards. He interfaces with the Logisticae there and requests reinforced shields for the Ogryn so they can better weather the small-medium arms fire the squads were about to storm into. He also asks about outfitting each and every chimera with a nice, thick dozer blade for clearing wire, obstacles, and as extra ablative armor for the front of the APC's.
This amount of launchers should mean one for each squad with standard ammo pack including 6 Frag, 4 Krak, 1 Incendiary, 1 Smoke.
Inloading response to requests...
Indeed. We are being given the support of a God Engine, Praise Him, but it is not one Warhound that will win this fight. I wonder if they will see that and have faith that we can succeed if we are properly equipped to deal with a very much hardened enemy.
Now coordinating with the Magos Logisticae of Hive Central Supply. I am attempting to request an increase per trooper of heavy ordinance. Each trooper should be carrying several det packs, smoke grenades, and krak grenades to break remaining hard points in the outer lines. Any missile or other demo-trained trooper should have double the ordinance. Any Artillery should be at least similarly equipped, if not more. Ogryn mortar troops should have plentiful ammo. Coordinating requests...
We also need some intel on the resident miners. If they are resisting the foe in their underground networks, then they may be an asset. If they have joined the foe then having that number of underground specialist beneath the feet of any advance could render the entire advance wasted.
Virgil nods. This is true. My latest data is from before the data-sequestration of the hives was initiated, so 10 years, approximately.
A small subset of the data whirlwind surrounding Virgil breaks off as he reports, The Rockworks is a venerable mining outpost and is still operational in spite of its advanced age. The surface area of the mining complex is small compared to open air strip mining operations consisting of a central loading/unloading bay for cargo trucks, a single comparatively small manufactorum doubling as chapel to the Omnissiah, a small watch station and an Administratum enclave complete with three hab blocks for its scribes.
Numbers and forms being filled out automatically still swirl around Virgil as he chimes in. Such a location will also, as a matter of neccecity, likely serve as a supply dump for local forces. This location is an excellent target for any offensive actions.
Virgil does so and reflexively makes the sign of the Aquilla. Numbers start to fly like a flurry of snow around his noospheric junctions Soldiers need to eat ration items at regular intervals, every four-six hours they’re awake. They should eat 0.7 grams protein/day/.45kg of body weight and take in up to 200 mg of caffeine, redosing every three to four hours (not to exceed 800 mg).
Virgil immediately calls up every single supply requisition he's drafting and quintuples the numbers.
After a few seconds of lighting up the local Noosphere with data, Virgil gives a worried report, Current supply situation good for two weeks if we maintain a tight rotation schedule. Material is not an issue. We have an entire forge at our backs. Our biggest challenge will be personnel with proper food and medical supplies a close second and thrid. The AdMech in the area only offers "nutritional packs" and no medical to speak of that doesn't end in either an augmentic or servitor conversion. I have no idea how these other off-world regiments are getting their replacement troopers, but we certainly aren't getting any that would be trainable in two weeks. The only force that I see is fully reinforceable from the forge is the local skitarii detachments. Supplies are stretched thin across the board here, as is to be expected after well over three centuries of constant conflict.
Virgil examines the map carefully to make sure it aligns with his own expectations. As it does, he starts running numbers in the background for resupply, reinforcement rates, attrition numbers, average morale deterioration, supply reserves, and a hundred other things. The numbers weren't good.
In any case, we have neither the resources nor the authority to order such a thing, unless I have been grossly misinformed. he says like he's trying a vile curse. For now or orders are to win. What can you each tell us about our immaterial foe that might help us actually pull this off?
Virgil knows a fair bit more about this than he should probably let on with a Sister of Battle (even if she's a Hospitaller) sitting right there. He's managed to read a couple Inquisitorial AAR's over the years. Yes, it's probably Bloodletter of Khorne. The lack of slaughter anywhere other than the gun implies that they were summoned. But instead of saying all that out loud, he decides to share what he knows in a more oblique way.
Virgil rises first. As head Munitorum scribe his reports usually inform the others. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Karakathonia, Minkara Sector, Ultima Segmentum. It took me a tremendous amount of effort to get unrestricted, or at least less restricted, access to the local Adeptus Mechanicus Data stacks and cold archives. What I have found is concerning.
Virgil strides into the room with exactly zero time to spare, as intended. He is, perhaps, the least stereotypical of the bunch. Instead of flowing robes over a hunched old man with pasty skin and quills for fingers, a spry youth strides in. He still has the robes, but his hands seem abnormally normal. Everyone here knows from experience that this is a carefully constructed façade. The man has multiple parallel cogitator augmentations, a skill with data that borders on preternatural, and a pair of autoscribe mechadendrites that hide on his back when he isn't using them.
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