A/N: Thanks to AbscondingCascade of Twisting the Hellmouth for this idea. I will be adding a list of the music I write to, which will hopefully enhance the reading experience. To create a playlist of them all, use whatever music program you have, then go to youtube, copy the links to these songs once you search them, and then go to the sight below and follow the instructions.
March of the Khornates: War Zone/Piece by Piece, both by Slayer.
War Scene for this Chapter: Hands of Doom/Sleipnir by Manowar.
Gallus' Theme: Let the Gods Decide, by Manowar.
Dempsey's Theme: War Zone, by Slayer.
Theme of the Story: 115 by Elena Siegman, Beauty of Annihilation by Elena Siegman, Hands of Doom by Manowar, War Zone by Slayer, God or Man by Manowar.
The last fifth or so of this chapter was written with Slayer's 'War Zone' on a loop.
Go to Z a m z a r . c o m / u r l , without spaces. Paste the link into the first bar. Select the type of file you want, probably MP3. Type in your email, let it convert the file, then check your email for the file. Download, and boom. It's an amazing service, and in almost a year of using it free, I've not gotten a single spam mail due to giving them the email. Seriously, it's great. USE IT.
Alright, playlist/fanboying for Zamzar over. Enjoy the chapter, and, if you like it, recommend it to others. I'm getting so little reviews here, it's getting hard to write!:(
–Start Chapter–
General Oliver watched over the battlefield from the Governor's Spire. The large window on the wall, actually a massive display that gave them a view of the battlefield as though they weren't enclosed in the massive dome of the Hive, showed an impressive scene. Two lines of their forces, massive lines, stood between the hoards of Chaos and Hive Scylla. The PDF Forces were arranged behind the miles of trenches, all filled with razor wire, and the massive minefields, both the products of the three days Gallus' gallant forces had bought them. The men had yet to return, and were presumed dead. Oliver's face set into a grimace. He would see that their sacrifice wasn't in vain. The traps were set, the PDF was ready to meet the forces of Chaos. The Imperial Line was arranged in an inward facing crescent, ready to receive the charge that the enemy always used to break their foes. Only this time, the crescent would encircle the foe, surrounding them and finishing the job of the minefields, razor wire, and sustained fire from las-guns had started. Behind the fire line were the heavy stubber and heavy bolter emplacements, to cover a retreat if needed, unlikely though that was. Their artillery pieces were being kept in the back, raining shells every few minutes on the enemy emplacement, even as he thought. He had ordered that the fire was to continue no matter what, and was to stay focused on the enemy artillery once the main forces of the two armies closed. The last thing Oliver wanted was for the artillery to get mixed into the infantry fight.
"Do you think it will work?" Governor Harold asked from behind him, anxiety clear in the man's tone. Oliver didn't answer immediately. Oliver knew he wasn't really a general. He only held his rank because his late father had wanted him to have it. It had been that way on Carana for centuries. Nobody had really expected an experienced general to be needed. They were paying for it now, though. If it weren't for Colonel Woods and Interrogator Gallus...the thought was terrible. But all of the classes and books Oliver had read seemed to agree.
They would win this battle.
"Yes, Governor," Oliver finally said, "I do."
–Scene Break–
Gallus stood atop a sand-dune, surveying the battlefield. A cool aura surrounded him, a guard against the blazing heat of Carana's seemingly endless, toxic deserts. It was this reason that all of the warriors on the battlefield, including Gallus, wore rebreathers. Just behind his small spot of cool air, a vast army extended in a crescent, the points of which extended far beyond his little dune, facing the minefields and razor trenches. He saw the few tanks that they did have sitting behind the main army, a few hundreds of meters behind him and the crescent. The artillery was miles behind him, behind the heavy weapon emplacements and dug-in troops, firing continuously at the enemy forces coming towards them. One hundred and forty thousand PDF soldiers were on the field today. Four thousand were dug in behind the main lines, another two thousand guarded each flank, ready to be called into the main fight, or to cover the retreat, at any moment. Gallus' eyes fell on the approaching enemy army. A massive hoard, one-hundred-and-twenty-five-thousand strong, charging the PDF forces. Gallus extended his awareness to the men around the dune he stood atop. Two hundred of the Inquisition's best. Armed with Hellguns, armored in carapace, their jobs were to be the pole behind his spearhead. He would punch into the Khornate lines, and they would follow, wreaking havoc in his wake.
Explosions sounded faintly in the distance. The Chaos hoard had reached the minefield. Sand and blood and bodies burst just over a mile away, dozens of lives being destroyed. Gallus smiled as he reached out, touching their pain. They rushed on, undaunted, but still, they died in agony, and that was what he now savored. The pain and death of the traitors was the sweetest sensation he could read in others.
Minutes passed, and the heretics finally cleared a path through the mines, and rushed onwards through the razor wire. Men fell through the disguised trenches, and were cut to ribbons by their own agonized thrashing. One mile left. The Khornates charged onwards, using the corpses of their fellows as bridges across the razor wire, and hit the next minefield. More eruptions of sand and flesh, and now the howls of their foes were audible. The artillery stopped, recalibrating to fire far beyond the enemy lines, suppressing any attempts by the foe to use their own artillery. The enemy was closing with the PDF. The risk of friendly-fire by the Earthshakers was too great. As Gallus watched, las fire began to flash en masse as the PDF engaged the enemy as they drew into rage. Gallus stepped down from his dune.
"Alright, men," he said briskly as he began moving forward, and then breaking into a telekinetically enhanced run, "Let's do this! For the Emperor!"
The warcry echoed far behind him as his own forces, and then the closest PDF mimicked him, and then the rest of the PDF began their own cries of war, and the battle officially began.
–Scene Break–
Colonel Woods sat atop one of the three Chimeras his force had been issued. The rest of the two thousand men were foot sloggers, a few of whom were lucky enough to be manning the covered heavy stubber emplacements. The rest stood in the heat of their barren world, guarding the flanks. Colonel Woods sighed, and took a drink of water from his canteen. Bastard PDF heads had put him here deliberately. They'd never really liked him, or welcomed him. They were all nobles, and viewed him as a lowly soldier. Once more, anger at the Lord General who had dumped him here filled him. In the far distance, he could see the explosions, the flashes of las fire, he could hear the distant wumph!s of the tank guns firing. He should be there, in the midst of the battle. Doing something that mattered. Not babysitting the rejects of the PDF.
But it wasn't his job to question the decisions of his superiors. That's what had got him sent here in the first place, after all.
–Scene Break–
Gallus ran over the sand, his psychic power keeping his steps as light and steady as if he was running on smooth rockcrete. He was closing in with the Khornate forces. The bloody vanguard of his foes were a mere fifty meters in front of him. Gallus smiled, even as las bolts began really killing the enemy. They were now well within range.
Gallus jumped high, far higher than any mortal should, the terrible power of the Warp allowing him to defy the will of gravity. He sped through the air and dove straight into the Khornate forces, impacting the ground with immense power.
The effect was gratifying, he had to admit. As he touched the ground, he released a pulse of telekinetic energy that expanded around him in a sphere. Easily twenty enemy soldiers were lifted up and thrown wildly by the force of his will, their necks snapping, limbs breaking as they fell back to the ground with terminal force. Gallus stood in the center of the crater his blast had created, and threw out his arms and brought them down. Three, then six, bolts of psychic power fell around him as the horde of chaos-touched psychopaths surrounded him, each bolt exploding with the kinetic force of a frag grenade. Men were torn apart, thrown into their fellows, broken by the force released by Gallus' powers. Breathing heavily from the effort of calling the psychic grenades into being, he threw his arms forward, and called into being two blades of invisible force, edged sharper than any mortal blade, and threw these blades into a complex dance of edged death, the skill required to use the blades far less than the sheer power needed for his psychic bolts.
Gallus leapt, spun, slashed and jabbed with his arms, the blades obeying his will, killing all who entered a ten foot radius around him. The sand beneath his foes then began to open into dark holes, swallowing the Khornate warriors and then closing back around them. Twisting gestures with his hands snapped necks and destroyed the motors of the chain axes used by his enemies. As he continued his psychic slaughter, the men he commanded were following his lead, hellbolts raining into the hoard as the Inquisitorial Storm Troopers punched their way into the enemy army, making their way to Gallus' side. Brief, bright flashes of energy left small, blackened holes in the blood-soaked flak armor of the Khornates and vaporized the internal organs of the same men. Screams of pain filled the area as the height of Imperial personal las technology vaporized stomachs and the acids within, causing the body to eat away at itself, as livers and kidney's were incinerated, leaving only blackened tissue and burnt flesh, as holes were burnt in lungs, and air was brought in, only to exit the lungs within the body itself.
While the Storm Troopers engaged the Khornates, as the PDF fired from farther away, smaller, weaker las bolts scarring brain tissues black but not gone, Gallus continued his deadly rampage. He reached out with his mind and shut down the vital systems of five men at a thought, and, with a downward swing of his arm, brought down an immensely powerful bolt of psychic energy that burst with terrifying power.
Each time Gallus focused his powers and swung his arm, a dozen men died. After the third blast, Gallus rushed forward, drawing his personal weapon, brought down from his ship in orbit for this battle. It was a long wide-bladed, double-edged sword, and seemed completely mundane. Unless, of course, one looked closer, and saw the runes on the blade itself. Then a knowledgeable person might discern the true, deadly nature of the weapon.
Gallus swung the Force Weapon up, striking the chain-sword of his foe and shattering the weapon utterly. The next stroke of the powerful blade tore through his enemy's flak armor and cut the man in two. From there Gallus sped up, moving with lightning swiftness and terrifying speed, his weapon tearing through armor and flesh, sprays of blood from severed heads and gore from ruined chests covered Gallus armor, and the Khornate soldiers began to worry that someone had accidentally summoned a daemon. Accompanying Gallus' superhuman sword blows were flashes of telekinesis, causing heads to to twist as necks snapped violently, and men to began wildly flailing with their chain-axes, severing the heads and limbs of their fellows. All the while, the Inquisitorial Storm Troopers continued their own, terrible advance, slaughtering their way through the center mass of the enemy army. From behind them, the PDF was just meeting the forces of Chaos in direct combat. Lasguns flashed and bayonets stabbed into Chaotic flesh, and the screams of the dying and wounded filled the air. The flow of blood soaked the sand and the scent of burnt flesh permeated the battlefield. The eruption of the guns of the distant Leman Russes sounded as they engaged the enemy tanks, and cries of "For the Emperor!" and "Burn the Heretic! Kill the Mutant! Purge the Unclean!" echoed throughout the battlefield as the PDF's crescent closed in over the Khornate army, the Chimeras of Hive Scylla striking at the enemy's vulnerable rear. Someone with a bird's eye view of the battle would be shocked at the carnage and death being wrought, particularly by the small force in the center of the two armies, lead by a single figure with a sword. A person with particularly good eyesight would notice a single, small vehicle driving at breakneck speed from the far-distant camp of the Khornates, jumping sand-dunes with no regard for their own safety.
A more perceptive person, however, would notice the two large groups of armored vehicles coming from the far left and right of the now-closed crescent, far enough to avoid the mines and razor wire entirely. And an even more perceptive person would realize the danger these vehicles represented as they bypassed the main PDF army and circled around to the secondary defensive lines.
–Scene Break–
Dempsey stood in the damaged Chimera, his head visible where the roof had been torn off by an enemy Sentinel wielding a chain weapon back in the Khornate camp, staring anxiously at the battle ahead. They were late, far too late. The armored column had left ahead of them, they needed to get to Gallus before the enemy tanks did.
"Damn it, Kenneth, can't you drive any faster?" Dempsey snarled. If they didn't get there, the battle would be lost...
"No, I can't, sir. We're moving at top speed right now." Kenneth drove towards another dune, jumping it. Every bit of help getting them there faster was welcome at this point.
"Sir, we still can't reach them via vox," Roy informed Dempsey apologetically.
"I don't think we'll make it, sir," Hector sighed, and Dempsey gritted his teeth.
"Maybe we won't," he allowed, "But when we get there, I want all of you ready for combat. We're at least going to get Gallus out of that trap, or die trying."
"You know it, sir," Smith assured him and the other six men voiced their assent. Dempsey bared his teeth in a twisted mixture of grin and grimace. The battle was going to be lost this day. But Dempsey was going to make the enemy pay in blood for every aspect of that victory. And he knew damn well that Gallus would do the same.
"Alright, then!" Dempsey growled, "Let's go! Hoo-ah!
–Scene Break–
Colonel Woods was currently watching the distant battle. He could tell that the battle plan had gone off as anticipated, which was odd, to say the least. Years in the Guard had taught him that no battle plan ever survived contact with the enemy. Given this experience, a growing, nagging sense that he was missing something extremely important had been bothering him for over an hour.
"Sir, what in that?" a young sergeant asked, tapping him on the shoulder and pointing in the distance. Colonel Woods turned his gaze to where the young soldier was pointing. A very large dust cloud was heading straight for them. Colonel Woods sighed. Great, a sand storm, just what they needed. As he looked at the cloud, though, a sinking sensation began to appear in his gut, and he raised his binoculars, dreading what he would see.
A large group of tanks, heading directly towards his position. He tried to count, and stopped at over a dozen, accompanied by even more Chimeras. One of his soldiers swore as he saw the armor as well. Colonel Woods dove towards the vox.
"Command, this is Colonel Woods, a large group of tanks is approaching my position, we need an artillery strike on them, now! There's too many to fight-"
"Colonel Woods, this is General Cameron, and I must inform you that the artillery is focused on suppressing the enemy artillery fire right now, on General Oliver's orders.
"Frak Oliver's orders!" Woods snapped, "This is an emergency! If those tanks get here, they will smash through our lines and we'll be well and truly fraked!"
"Colonel Woods, you will mind your tongue! General Oliver's orders are clear. You will deal with this problem yourself. Or perhaps a reassignment, if that proves too difficult?" the snobby voice on the other end of the vox was clearly finding the entire situation amusing. Woods was shaking with sheer rage. This fool was going to lose them this war!
"With all do respect," Woods started, trying desperately to keep his voice level, his knuckles white with the grip he was maintaining on the vox, "Frak you, frak your wife, and frak your entire damn family!"
And with that, Woods shut off the vox and turned to his men as he set his commbead to address his entire two thousand soldiers, spread apart as they were.
"Men," he began, "We've got more than a dozen tanks heading our way, and even more APCs. We're not getting any help from on high. I've been told to deal with this myself. And you know what? I will. I'm sick of dealing with incompetent leaders, with nobles playing soldier. We're going to die today, and it's their fault. It's their frakking fault. I don't know about you, but that pisses me off!"
Anger was beginning to show on his men's faces, and many voices shouted out in agreement.
"We're going to hold this line, but not because we've been told to!" Woods continued, "We're going to hold this line because this is our frakking world, and I'll be damned before I roll over and let some heretic take it! We're going to hold this line because it's our families and our homes on the line! We're going to hold this line, because the Emperor is on our side! And I'm not going to be the rat bastard who let's Him down!"
Cheers and roars of assent met Colonel Woods words, and with those roars, Woods leapt into the heavy bolter nest by the nearest of his three Chimeras as the two thousand men rushed on, while those who didn't stepped into their machine-gun nests.
Woods smiled. He knew he was going to die. But damn it, he'd die a hero.
–Scene Break–
Gallus through out his left arm and the force of his psychic attack ripped the skins from four of the enemy, even as he smote them with the force weapon in his right hand. Gallus smiled as he spun and sliced another Khornate in half as the traitor tried to attack him from behind. This was the first time he had used this recently acquired weapon, and he now resolved to use it much more often. A chain axe whirred by his face, and Gallus stepped back and slashed out with his blade, disemboweling the heretic. He had long since been drenched in the blood of his enemies, as had most of his remaining soldiers. They'd taken some casualties, but far less than he'd have thought, given the numbers that they faced. He supposed Imperial carapace armor had proved superior to heretical chain weapons.
As that thought occurred to him, his attention was caught by the unmistakable cracking sound of a multilaser. Gallus turned to the source of the sound, absently psychically gripping the men around him and sending them spinning and flailing wildly with their weapons, causing them to become a far greater threat to their allies than him. The roar of the laser continued, and a Chimera was now visible through the hoard, its stubber spewing death into the enemy, the flashing multilaser carving a path to Gallus. But this wasn't the surprising part. Standing in the Chimera, firing a bolt pistol into the hoard around the vehicle, was a man Gallus had thought dead.
"Gallus, it's a trap!" Dempsey shouted as he pulled up near Gallus, and his unit began firing their Hellguns into the forces around them, "There's a regiment of tanks and other armor coming up on our left and right! Their going to come from behind, and they're beat us here! The attack has already started, they'll be attacking the rear of the army in minutes!"
Gallus' eyes widened briefly, and then his expression hardened. He leapt into the Chimera.
"Drive me there," he ordered, even as he sent out a powerful psychic signal, calling in his ace in the hole. The artillery flying through the air made it dangerous, but this might be their only hope.
"Yes, sir!" Dempsey smiled, and Kenneth flooring the Chimera, driving through the Khornate hoard. Gallus sent a psychic message to all of his soldiers, warning them about the trap, and telling them to do whatever was necessary to get back to the rear of the line, even as he called down telekinetic strikes from the sky, giving his men what aid he could.
And then he was far away from his men, driving through this hoard, with Dempsey's unit desperately firing their Hellguns and stabbing at the Khornates climbing the Chimera, even as it sped through the enemy. Gallus turned his attention to the Chimera, and pulse after psychic pulse sent Khornates flying through the air as though tossed by an Ogryn. Dempsey's heavy stubber helped somewhat in clearing their path, but the hoard of enemies was so thick, it still didn't seem to matter much.
Gallus' eyes turned to the sky, even as he fired his next psychic pulse. They needed to make it. He reached out, seeking anyone who could help, but none of the soldiers held voxes. Finally, though, his mind touched a firm soul, a warrior, and a leader, and someone faithful to the Emperor. Someone likely to have a vox, to boot.
'This is Interrogator Gallus! There is an enemy trap, tanks are flanking us, inform high command! The artillery needs to destroy those vehicles before it's too late!'
'No shit,' came the thought in the other man's head, and Gallus recognized Colonel Woods in that mind. Before the man could respond further, or try to, Gallus saw everything he needed to see, and rage unlike any he'd felt for a long, long time filled him. His next pulse was stronger by far than he had intended, and, instead of merely throwing his foes off, it completely caved in their rib cages, forcing shards of bone through the men's stomachs, their lungs, their hearts, shredding their internal organs.
Gallus would kill those incompetent fools in the High Command if it was the last thing he ever did.
–Scene Break–
Woods had to admit, as he fired the heavy bolter at the oncoming tanks, it was gratifying to know that the Interrogator agreed with his assessment of the PDF High Command. Too bad he wouldn't live to see the fireworks.
'Woods, fall back!' came another psychic order, and Woods almost stopped firing in sheer shock.
"What?" he asked out loud, drawing an odd look from one of his men. Woods didn't notice.
'Withdraw! You can't do anything, I've just seen how many armored vehicles the enemy has! Thirty-five tanks, sixteen Chimeras, fourteen Rhinos, and almost seven hundred infantry riding with them. You're no use to me dead. Fall. The. Warp. BACK!'
Woods looked ahead, and realized just how right the Interrogator was. And also just how late the order had come.
Roughly thirty meters in front of his position, thirty Leman Russes were preparing to fire. He heard the massive, deafening explosions as the tanks fire, saw his world explode into light and sand and dust, and then fell into darkness as a terrible force struck him, and he knew no more.
The tanks rolled through the broken, retreating lines, firing into the tight concentrations of fleeing soldiers while the bolters of the Chimeras bit at their heels like a hound of war.
At the same time, another group of tanks, twenty strong, escorted by another twenty Chimeras, slammed into the other flank, punching effortlessly through the defensive lines, and the two tank regiments turned to the north, firing their rounds into the rear of the massive PDF army. Explosions from the tank shells killed men by their dozens, tightly packed as they were.
The PDF High Command watched this scene with growing horror. They ordered the artillery to fire upon the enemy tanks, but it was too late, far too late. The Chimeras of the enemy were already swarming the positions of the Earthshakers and Medusas, heavy bolter fire concentrating on the weapons themselves while the Chaotic foot soldiers butchered the soldiers manning the weapons. Once the slaughter was finished, the Chimeras sped back towards the battlefield, dogs of war racing towards their fleeing prey, the fangs that were the bolters chewing through the fleeing soldiers, multilasers ripping into the machine-gun nests that would have covered the PDF's retreat, and as the Chimeras passed these nests, the men riding within would leap out and take the nests for themselves, turning the Emperor's guns on His loyal soldiers.
The High Command of the PDF continued to watch as their winning battle turned to a route, and they had the singular horror of the knowledge that it was well and truly their fault.
–Scene Break–
The battlefield itself was dissolving into complete chaos. The rear of the PDF crescent was shattered, the forces fleeing from the tanks firing into them, pushing forward into the body of the Khornate hoard, even as the men behind them sought to flee that same body of foes. The machine-gun nests were quickly being seized by the enemy, and whenever a group of PDF soldiers managed to escape the killing grounds of the now almost-fifty enemy tanks they were cut down by the powerful anti-personnel weapons. Men in blood-soaked flak armor were torn to shreds by the roaring bolters, stub rounds punched gaping holes in their bodies, and sustained fire from forty-eight Leman Russes was creating clouds of exploded flesh and pools of blood and piles of shredded meat. Shrapnel tore through flak armor effortlessly, leaving the men inside screaming in agony as the burning shards tore through their soft tissue. Chimeras with their bolters circled the PDF army, firing wildly into the greatest concentrations of men, bolt rounds tearing off limbs and blowing great bloody holes in chests. Howls of pain and terror echoed throughout the battlefield, desperate pleas for help went unanswered as the Chaos soldiers hacked apart all the fleeing and fighting PDF that they could reach. The pincer movement was well and truly closed, the Khornate hoard on one side, the tanks and the PDF's own defenses on the other.
This was the war Gallus now traveled through, firing his own Hellpistol into the forces around him, in addition to his psychic strikes. The armor of the Chimera was covered in deep gouges and burns from the last ten minutes of driving, and its heavy bolter was completely out of ammo. All six men of Dempsey's unit were now out of charge for their Hellguns and las-pistols both, and were now reduced to stabbing out with their bayonets at the men who were trying to climb the Chimera, and doing so faster than Gallus alone could blast them off. They could now see PDF men fighting in small groups in the middle of the Khornates, which was a welcome sight. It meant that they were close to their own lines.
Then they saw the explosions. A few dozen meters away was the wall of PDF soldiers, trampling over each other in their futile attempts to escape the enemy tanks, the same tanks that were firing their explosive shells into the mass of soldiers. It was these explosions that Gallus heard. Stand up, he saw the next volley striking the PDF, saw the spray of blood, saw limbs fly through the air, heard the terrified screams, and saw the tank turn its barrel towards the Chimera speeding through the hoard of soldiers, and realized that he was about to die, as he turned, seemingly in slow motion, to jump from the vehicle, even as Dempsey slammed through the Khornate lines and into a group of PDF warriors, driving over them, howls of pain following them as Dempsey slammed the brakes, cursing as he did, not wanting to run anymore of his allies over. Then Dempsey looked up, and saw the tank pointing its barrel at them, even as several Khornates climbed the Chimera, then several more, and several more, before Gallus remember to blast them off, sending them all flying, just as his feet hit the sand. Dempsey was jumping as well, just as the rest of his unit was turning, confused, and then moving as well in dawning horror, but it was clearly too late; the tank was preparing to fire, and there was no way that they'd clear the blast radius in time.
Then, from the sky, a great white blob of pure energy came striking down directly on the top of the tank aiming at them. A tremendous explosion shook the earth as the ammo supply within the tank cooked off, adding its own power to the blinding explosion of light. As the after images faded, Gallus became aware of the sound of engines, as well as heavy bolter and las-cannon fire. He looked up, and saw his Cutter. The vehicle fired its nose-mounted plasma weapon again, destroying another tank, its las-cannons firing precise, killing shots into the other tank's engines and ammo supplies, and explosion after explosion shook the earth. It was too little, though, far too little. The tanks present in the gun cutter's range were only a small fraction of the overall number of enemy armored vehicles. All it was doing was giving Gallus and his forces enough time to escape, and Gallus was damn well going to make the most of that time.
He and Dempsey were both running for the ship, as were several PDF soldiers, and numerous Khornates. Only Gallus, Dempsey, and the Inquisitorial soldiers made it through the gun cutter's hail of bolter fire, though. They were the only ones not designated as hostile by the ship's targeting systems.
Gallus rushed up the ramp even as it descended, Dempsey and the other soldiers on his heels, and the cutter took off before the ramp had finished closing. The ship continued firing all around it, and Gallus seized psychic control of the ship from the autopilot. He used the ship's sensors to survey the battlefield, and felt horror and rage and disgust rising up within him. The PDF was routing, the Khornates were slaughtering them as they ran, the tanks and machine-gun nests making damn sure that they had no where to run in any case. The entirety of the two-hundred strong force that Gallus had brought into the field had been killed, overwhelmed by the Khornate hoard.
Righteous hate filled Gallus' heart.
His men's deaths would be paid for in blood.
–Scene Break–
"Eighty percent casualties," Gallus said, his voice soft, controlled, as he turned to face the PDF Commanders.
It was the day following the disastrous battle, and Gallus was standing in the middle of the Governor's office, his black armored feet sinking into the red plush carpet. The long, ovular hardwood table was directly in front of him,and behind the eight finely dressed PDF officers stood over a dozen Inquisitorial Soldiers, dressed in their full black carapace armor, standing out against the lightly colored walls. At the end of the room, sitting behind his beautiful wooden desk, sat the tired looking Governor Harold. Standing next to him was an equally tired looking General Oliver.
"We took eighty percent casualties yesterday. Eighty. Percent. Casualties. Out of one-hundred and forty-thousand soldiers. We lost one-hundred and twelve thousand men yesterday. Given that we outnumbered the enemy by fifteen thousand men, why do you think we lost one-hundred and twelve-thousand men?"
None of the PDF Officers spoke. They were too busy shaking with fear. None had known what would happen when Gallus had called this meeting, except that it wouldn't end well. None of them had realized just how frightening a calm, cold Interrogator could be.
"No one knows? Not one of you knows why we lost?" Gallus asked with a chilly smile. Then he reached out with his right arm and psychically yanked up one of the PDF commanders, a snarl on his face as he clenched his fist, cutting off the man's supply to air.
"I find that lack of awareness highly disturbing!" Gallus snarled as the man tried to pry the invisible hands from his throat,
"After all," he continued to address the choking man, "it was you, personally, that denied the artillery strike that would have annihilated the tank force that slaughtered us!"
Gallus opened his hand and thrust his palm forward, blasting the man into the wall. The officer picked himself up, gasping, and sat back in his chair, glancing fearfully at Gallus.
"Interrogator, with all due respect, it was General Oliver's order-" one of the men at the table tried to say, but was interrupted when the Inquisitorial Trooper behind him grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the table.
"Speak when spoken to, and no sooner!" the soldier snarled, and then released the man and stepped back.
"That brings me to my next point," Gallus said, and turned to the General.
"General Oliver, you are relieved of your command. Your failure in the last battle in inexcusable, your incompetence shocking. If a Commissar was present on this world, you would not be standing here right now. Since there isn't one, your sentencing falls on me."
Oliver met Gallus' gaze and inclined his head in acceptance. He knew what was coming, and would not fight it. One hundred and twelve thousand lives were on his head. It was only right that he should pay for it with his life.
"That said," Gallus continued, "You have experience with this world, and knowledge of the layout of the hives, so you may yet prove yourself useful. You are hereby reassigned as my secretary. You will obey my and my warriors every command, and will answer all questions with complete honesty. You will speak when spoken to, or if you have an extremely important message to convey. If you violate any of these terms, or just upset me or one of my soldiers, your death sentence will be reinstated. This is your penance, Oliver. Be grateful for it."
Oliver's eyes widened in shock, and then he simply nodded. It was far more merciful than he had expected.
"As for you," Gallus grinned coldly, and turned to face the PDF again, "your incompetence far exceeds General Oliver's. You ignored the warnings of an experienced soldier, and the loss of this battle rests on your soldiers. The loss of two hundred veterans of the Inquisition rest on your shoulders. Do it."
Eight of the Shock Troops behind the PDF drew their las-pistols and fired once into the back of each PDF Officer's head. Eight men slumped with the crack! of the las bolts, and were dead.
Gallus looked upon the dead members of the PDF high command, and smiled slightly. Then his smile faded, and he turned to Oliver and the Governor.
"Remove the bodies, and then meet me here in an hour. We need to begin preparations for the siege."
–End Chapter–