A/N – Sorry I haven't updated for a long time, a combination of holidays, exams and writer's block have taken their toll. Still, here it is, Chapter 4! R/R please! Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer 40,000, or Gaunt's Ghosts; I am simply a massive fan.
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.00 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
50 Chimeras, a company strength force, bounced and bounded over the rubble, dodging the occasional shell or missile. They were fourth company of the Twelfth Armageddon Steel Legion. Five hundred men were bouncing around within the mustard-coloured Chimeras, their eyes glued to the sights of the side mounted las-guns or the turret-mounted multilasers on the tanks. Occasionally, a side-mounted lasgun would let of a burst of fire at a mutant or cultist fleeing over the rubble. They were nearing the edge of the manufactories, and their rendezvous with the Beligarso pathfinders. They were just fifty yards from the cover of a manufactory building, when suddenly, anti-tank missiles, las-cannon blasts and melta guns slammed in.
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.01 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
Private First Class Oliver Steele was in the turret seat of his Chimera when he saw the first blasts through the vision blocks, heard the first screams through his micro-bead.
"Everybody out," yelled Sergeant Grakk, "Get to cover." The rear doors and top hatch of the Chimera opened up, and the ten man squad leaped out, just in time to see the Chimeras carrying fourth and fifth squads, and the one carrying the heavy weapons squads, go sky high.
"Great," said Private George Helghast, "There goes our heavy support."
"Shut it, Private," replied the Sergeant "No negative cowards in my squad"
"Oh this is just great," said Private Joseph 'Jitters' Larken, the Squad's very nervous and jittery Sniper, "We've being dropped into a Chaos-held hive, which is full of Chaos Space Marines, and all our heavy support's gone up in a puff of smoke,"
"Oh shut the frak up!" Yelled Specialist Ben Borras, the squad surly, bullying heavy weapons trooper, "Or I'll smash you so hard, the Commissar will shoot you as a mutant." He hefted the heavy stubber in his hands, the way a regular soldier would heft a lasrifle, for good measure.
"Come on guys, are we going to stand around chatting next to a target screaming for a missile, or are we going to get to those manufactories?" Private Isabelle Irone's voice of reason cut through to the men, even as they were at each other's throats, "Come on, let's go," she said. They all nodded stupidly for a second, then, in a moment of understanding, all leaped up and ran to the cover of the manufactory. "That's the way to do it," she said to herself, grinning ear-to-ear.
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.03 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
Inside the manufactory, the squad joined up with their platoon, along with two more platoons. The entire squad had survived, running the gauntlet of enemy fire: Sergeant Grakk, Ollie Steele, George Helghast, Issie Irone, Ben Borras, Joe 'Jitters' Larken, Jack Drak, Dan Memmoz, as well as Archie Joran, Borras' ammunition carrier, and Matt Sorran, the squad's grenadier. Captain Yakub was there too, accompanied by his command squad and the ever-vigilant Commissar Kratz. Captain Yakub arrived speaking on the vox, but after a moment he looked up from his set.
"Alright," he said, "Third, Fifth and Sixth platoons are moving north along Factorum Avenue, the road on the far side of the factory, against heavy resistance." As if to emphasise his point, an explosive rumble echoed over to the waiting Guardsmen. "And our tanks have had to withdraw because of the enemy fire. We are on our own. We will push through this manufactory, out the other side and, if the other units are too far behind, we will attempt to complete the mission ourselves. Any questions?" He looked around at the assembled faces, a good two hundred and twenty of them, "No? Then let's go. Move in a spread formation, three columns, two-metre spread, watch your angles – you know the drill. Snipers, set scopes to heat seek. There's way too much cover in here."
Quietly as possible, the three-platoon force moved down the concourse. Heavily armoured as they were, they did make noise, as every few seconds someone knocked their rifle stock, or kicked a stone, or stumbled, or trapped their webbing on a girder. They were not stealth troopers, that was best left to the specialists.
"Hey sarge," Jack said to Sergeant Grakk, "Weren't there supposed to be stealth specialists on point or something. I'm sure it was in the briefing." Yeah," Said the Sergeant, "I wonder where they…"
"Sarge?" Asked Jack, "Why'd you stop," He looked up and realised why he'd stopped walking, or talking, as had everyone in the formation: Sergeant Grakk had the business end of a long-las in his face.
"We could've heard you a mile off," Said a rather smug-looking Sergeant, wearing a cape, who had seemingly appeared from nowhere.
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.10 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
The company were taking a breather as Captain Yakub and the commander of the mysterious stealth troopers spoke in hushed voices as they referred to a data-slate. One of the stealthers came over to the squad as they lay back and tried to make themselves comfy in the rubble. Joe was obsessively taking apart and cleaning each part of his rifle, but the others looked up as he approached. Even so, he was very quiet, and the squad had to see him to know he was there. He was wearing black, sleeveless fatigues, grey flak armour, a black beret and a camo-cloak with an urban colouration featuring numerous shades of grey and black.
"Scout Trooper Mach Bonin," he introduced himself, "I'm named for my grandfather, the Mach is short for Macharius, as in Lord Solar Macharius," The Steel Legionaires all nodded in understanding, "I'm from the First New Tanith."
"Oh," Said Ollie "You're the spearhead force,"
"Yeah," replied Bonin, "Our regiment is made up of scout specialists, so we were given a dropzone further advanced than yours. We had to clear it ourselves. My section was left to link up with you and guide you in, while the rest of the regiment advanced." At that moment Captain Yakub walked over to the assembled force.
"On your feet kiddos," he said, "We're moving out."
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.11 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
The reinforced column was soon moving again. While the bulky Steel Troopers made noise and had to go round obstacles, the Tanith silently flitted over obstacles, their cloaks almost completely obscuring them from view. George swore as his webbing snagged on a girder for the umpteenth time. Though he tugged as hard as he could, the strap wouldn't come free from the girder. Suddenly, Bonin was by his side.
"Like this," Urged the Scout, as he slid the strap off of the girder, "You've got to be more quiet," He urged, in a friendly manner, "The enemy aren't deaf, and neither am I, and you all sound like a herd of elephants. It's easy to stay silent - I'll show you," Over the next half-hour, as they marched, Bonin showed them little tricks that he had picked up. He showed them where to look so that they could see something that would make noise, but that they could still see what lay ahead. He taught them to dull down shiny parts of their equipment and uniform with smears of oil from the wrecked machinery, and he showed them how to best move concealed. The squad passed the information around, and soon most of the company were moving much more quietly. Even vox-signals were shortened to a few key phrases, and Bonin showed them a few key hand signals, which were also soon in use up and down the column, as men tested them out, though their thick, fumbling gloves made their efforts clumsy. At first, they were essentially unreadable, but they slowly improved. However, all the stealth training in the world can only protect you so much, from a sniper with armour piercing rounds and a heat-seeking scope.
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.13 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
The sniper wore standard manufactory overalls, but he had removed his mask and gloves, revealing the rotted flesh underneath, so that he could better aim and handle his sniper rifle. He was one of the many members of the forge world's workforce who had turned to the dark gods. While some people had fallen to Chaos in just a few hours, swept up in the tide of warp filth that had overrun the hive, his fall had been slow. Over many months he had been coerced over to the dark gods. Teachers and parents had taught him of their evil as a child, but they had only opened his eyes. While he was taught to merely pray to the Emperor, for no obvious reward, the Chaos gods could actually give you something.
At first, he had privately prayed to Slaanesh, God of Pleasure, for help. This had given him a good girlfriend, and an addiction to their wishes. Slowly, he had given away more of himself mentally, while receiving gifts physically. He had drifted from god to god, finally winding up pleasing Slaanesh the Pleasure God, with a decadent lifestyle, Tzeentech the Changer of Ways, had received a portion of his soul, which had given a daemon new life, Khorne the Blood God had given him a stronger body, but a more aggressive temperament, and Nurgle the Plague Father was testing out a new plague: on him. He was rotting, angry, wretched and decadent. Then, one terrible morning, he had awoken to life that a year before he had dreamed for, he had looked at himself like he always did, and then, in one terrible, clarifying moment, he had realised what he had done to his body, his mind and his soul. And he had screamed. That day, the first riots had started. In the confusion, he had given in to Slaanesh. That night, his hab block – a mid spine residence he had bought with the money that he had gained after Slaanesh had possessed a bank worker long enough to transfer a million credits into his account – had become a charnel house.
He had screamed depraved battle cries as he whirled through the building, delighting in the feel of blood on his face. Finally, he had staggered out onto the street, clothes dripping in blood, and screamed his war cries again and again.
Events had moved swiftly from there, as the riots spread. At one point, a group of rioters had even managed to break into the Adeptus Arbites armoury. Soon, dozens more men were streaming in, grabbing autorifles, autopistols, stubbers and ammunition, as well as large amounts of explosives. The man however, had something else on his mind. He stole from the secure lockup an experimental sniper rifle, a combination of the accuracy and main body of a long-las, and the power and barrel of a plasma-gun. He had notched up over two hundred kills, in the three weeks since the assault had begun. Like all the hive workers, he wore a silver blast suit, similar to the suits worn by workers in areas where radiation or poisons could affect them. However, in order to better interface with his rifle's scope, he did not wear a hood, and in order to handle the rifle better, he did not wear gloves. This didn't matter, as Grandfather Nurgle's plague would probably kill him quicker – such was the life of a servant of the Dark Gods. Then, he had been hunting in a factory when suddenly, his heat scope, and the enhanced hearing gifted to him by Tzeentech, had detected at least two hundred and forty men advancing through the rubble. At once, he had sighted down the scope of his rifle and taken aim.
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.13 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
Ollie heard, more than saw, the round that killed Matt. Ollie, along with George and Issie, was on point with the squad. Matt was in the back row. The plasma round slammed straight through a wall and pulverised Matt. The explosion touched of his bandolier of grenades, and the explosion pulped him, as shrapnel shredded his scorched body. Jack screamed as shrapnel tore him apart. There was a collective wince up and down the column as they watched their fiery, messy demise. There were three seconds of silence up and down the column, as shock and pain settled in. Then, came the screams.
"Get to cover," Shouted the officers. There was another explosion as a round pulverised two guardsmen from Sixth platoon and one of the Tanith. Shrapnel killed three more Steel Legionnaires. The wounded from Matt's demise, hit by shrapnel, screamed at the tops of their voices. It was an inhuman sound. The sound only someone who was in a truly bad way could make, and it sent a shiver down every one of their spines.
"They're coming right through the wall!" Shouted George.
"Two can play at that game," Replied Joe, as he powered up his sniper rifle. Using a heat scanning scope, he took aim. There was a large blob of light, and some snipers would have aimed at that. However, Joe knew that it was not the sniper's body heat, but the heat discharge from his rifle. Instead, he aimed at the lesser, almost un-noticeable heat signature. He lined up the shot, and squeezed the trigger.
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.14 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
The sniper could see an officer. He knew it was an officer because his scope was registering a refractor field. He also knew that the death of a senior officer would create even more confusion. He took aim, and tightened his finger on the trigger. There was a crack, then a high-pitched whine, and for one glorious moment, he thought he'd fired. But his power pack was still full.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.14 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
George whooped as the sniper's head burst like an over-ripe melon. Joe nodded with satisfaction, opened a pouch, and recorded the kill in a notebook. He only did that with worthy foes – officers, fellow snipers, skilled infantry, those sorts of targets. The book was nearly full, as he was the only one of the squad that had previously seen action, as he had joined the Twelfth Armageddon straight out of Senior School, five years earlier. In that time, he had become an ace sniper, with hundreds of kills to his credit.
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.14 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
The column was coming out of the manufactory, and into the sunlight. In front of them rose the city's Main Spine, a towering edifice nine hundred floors high – and each story could contain a nine-floor hab-block. The structure was huge, but the Main Spine of Hades Hive had been three times higher, and the two supporting hive towers had been roughly the same height. Even so, it was a breathtaking sight, a relic from the Dark Age of Technology. The peak was so high clouds obscured it. Even so, Ollie had heard of Hive Towers that could dock space ships in their uppermost levels
However, this particular tower was not in a good way. Symbols of Chaos had been drawn onto the base of the tower. At least nine levels were ablaze. It was pockmarked with craters. Tracer rounds and artillery shells were spraying back and forth between the city defences and the cultist ranks.
And standing between the Steel Legionnaires, was an army of insane cultists.
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.20 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
As they emerged onto the road outside the manufactory, they at once began to scan the surroundings. Their encounter with the sniper had made them more cautious. Issie was scanning her rifle over a house when she suddenly saw – something. She zoomed in her rifle sights for a closer look, and saw two helmets – and the barrel of a heavy stubber.
"Get to cover," she shouted, flinging herself back just seconds before where she had been standing was torn up by rounds fired by the heavy stubber.
The entire force was pinned.
"Cover me," George said into his earpiece as he started to get up.
"Wait, what?" Asked Ollie. "If you do that the odds of survival are about a thousand to one."
"Don't," Said Issie, "I had advance warning, and it nearly killed me," George grunted that she was right.
"Will somebody please kill that gun?" Shouted Sergeant Grakk.
"With pleasure," Replied an unknown voice over the vox.
"Who-?" Began Sergeant Grakk, before two long-las rounds streaked over their heads and in through the window hiding the stubber. The gun went silent. The Steel Legionnaires emerged from cover – and so did the rest of the company of the New Tanith and the Beligarso pathfinders.
"It's good to see you," said Captain Yakub.
"The pleasure is mine," replied the Tanith leader, a hulking Captain, "Captain Dalin Kolea," he introduced.
"Likewise," said the Beligarso leader, "Lieutenant Jim Kayson, at your service."
"Look," shouted one of the Steel Legionnaires. He had been watching Factorum Avenue, and had seen what was coming; "The other platoons," and sure enough, out of the smoke came Third, Fifth and Sixth Platoons.
.
.
.
.
+ + 002950.M41 + +
+ + 08.30 hours (Agripinaa System local time) + +
+ + Agripinaa + +
+ + Manufactory Complex fg/567 + +
.
.
.
.
The reunited company of Steel Legionnaires, along with a company of Tanith and two platoons of Beligarso pathfinders, were occupying the habs on the far side of an eight-lane highway from the Main Spine. Cultists were pouring through the gates, and more were moving on the highway.
Captain Yakub's voice came over the micro-bead earpieces each man was wearing.
"I won't pretend this won't be easy, but it must be done – the Imperium depends on us, to keep this Forge World secure, to keep the Cadian Gate secure – to keep everywhere secure," the men and women lying in cover heard him fumble with some paper – after a moment, his voice returned. He was reading one of the speeches from 'The Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer'.
"For the Emperor! For Armageddon, New Tanith, Beligarso and Holy Terra. Forward!" And nine hundred men, outnumbered a hundred-to-one, charged into the pages of history, the Forlorn Hope of humanity's finest. Charging incredible odds. Years later, in face of eyewitness accounts from virtually the entire population of Hive Spire Primaris, Imperial tacticians would be forced to accept that it had really happened, and that it had not been a phantom battle as had been suspected in so many other great, but unseen charges, but truly a heroic fight – a divine miracle. The survivors of the charge offered many prayers to the Emperor from then on, truly believing that he had blessed them.
They were right.
A/N Well, that's all folks. Not much of a cliffhanger I know, but still pretty good. R/R, and I'll listen.