Chapter 004
Another half hearted assault followed from the rear on the very same day. It was easily beaten back, but it told the guards clearly that their retreat has been cut off. The 97th wasn't expecting this, but the quiet confidence of the 1st company calmed them down.
The Guardsman spent the remaining time with Major Reeve Stoic and Lieutenant Maine. His own plan is to retract the defensive perimeter to an opening to the waste chute. In fact, the Guardsman is expecting that the next heretic attack come from there.
"Any justification for that besides gut feeling, Church?" Maine asked. Reeve seemed to be in heavy thought.
"My justifications are a few: first, is that they tried both front and rear, and would likely try a third side. Second, the chute is wide enough thirty men to march abreast, and links directly to the lower levels, which meant it is the perfect highway to march men through. Third, the chute is their trump card, which meant that they wouldn't want to expose it unless they're desperate. And I think they are. Their main force is pinned down at section 76 by ours." the Guardsman listed his reasons. Quite a mouthful, in fact.
"True, true and true. I think." Maine agreed. "If the cultists get routed at 76, Lord Model can then easily blitz his way to the defunct tubeway at section 70, and strike directly at the heart right in section 30. If it's good enough for supersonic tubes, it's gotta be good enough for Lemans."
"Remember that we still have a primary objective, Lieutenant." Reeve said. "We are to somehow get down to the chute and hit them at the heart of their foul operations. And we're already depleted 40 percent of our ammunition stores. Grenadier Pax is not very pleased with our ammunition use efficiency."
"Pax is a moron." Maine snorted through the mask as he proceeded to clear the layer of grime away from the map for the fifth time since the meeting began. "And this map stinks."
"All the maps about the Undercity were prepared without any sense of profession." Reeve agreed. "They should have employed the guards as cartographers and the Commissar as an editor. I am sure no one would mess up in this case."
"Heh!" the Guardsman enjoyed Reeve's sense of humor. "Well, the chute at sector 63 would lead us somewhere off center, down to section 29, in fact, well away from the Emperor's Potty. But we should avoid the Potty. It would be about a full section, that's about three miles, from the treatment plant."
"I would avoid anyone's Potty, but our mission is to flush it." Reeve smirked. "3 miles from the treatment plant sounds too far."
"Would have been useful if we had some armor. Chimeras would do wonders. I don't think the cultists have any mechanized support." Maine added.
"Yet." the Guardsman said with a worrying tone. "The plants are working again. Who knows what they have been doing all this time?"
"Enough discussion. We move out after 6 hours rest." Reeve concluded the meeting. "We will march to the chuteway at section 63 then. Get some sleep, both of you. I don't want some tired eye guardsman dozing off after me when he's supposed to cover my ass."
The two hundred thirty odd men of the 1st and 97th companies weaved through the seemingly abandoned roadways, some are been carried on stretchers. Orresian regiments don't abandon their wounded unless absolutely necessary. Recce squads covered the forward, rear and flanks, ensuring that these areas are clear. Advance in ladder was standard urban combat doctrine. The advancing half assumed defensive positions and became the rear guard, while the rear guard got up and marched.
"97th is within operational standards." Maine felt that he had to congratulate the once beaten company. "Kunst did his job well."
"If Kunst did his job well his company would not have routed when they got him." Reeve said gruffly.
"Perhaps it was because the Guardsman wasn't there to assume secondary command for that particular situation."
"Irrelevant, Maine. Facts! Not extrapolations. I expect more from you." Reeve surveyed the featureless blocks that used to house residents. Now they're deserted, with their belongings scattered throughout the street. An odd scenery.
"No scavengers." the Guardsman was seen running back and quickly reported. He's an honorary part of the command squad now, and his place is with Reeve until the fighting starts. "Even fresh ration packets are left untouched. Something's not right."
Ata's vox sounded again. He handed Reeve the head piece with an attached receiver.
"Reeve Stoic of the 1st. Mmmhmm. Right. No problem." Reeve signaled Maine to give order for full defensive positions. All men are to halt and retract. "Sure, sure. Trust the 1st, Lord Model. We will hold until Lord Commissar Essesohn and the Ultras arrive." Reeve tossed the communications device back and looked rather grim.
"The cultists are done. They tried to pull back, but Henson led a counterattack that smashed their ordered retreat into a massive rout. The battle at section 76 is over. Lord Model personally led three armored companies and blitzed his way to the tubeway. He would probably breach their defenses before we can say Hail Emperor." Reeve said the good news first.
"Well, what's the bad news?" Maine is used to Reeve's way of providing information.
"Bad news is that the broken cultists are heading straight to section 63 like some mad seething swarm. To our position, in fact. Lord Model isn't interested in losing the 1st Company so he's sending Lord Commissar Essesohn with the 29th, 11th and 5th armored along with the Ultras and the crazy bitches to relieve us, and hopefully pocket this force and obliterate them…before they obliterate us, of course. Sounds serious enough?" Reeve gave an awkward smile. "I heard the crazy bitches are really hot."
"That's a lame joke, Major. They probably incinerate us first." Maine turned around to bellow orders at the soldiers. "Dig, you maggots, dig for your fucking lives! Get to work!" He turned back to his superior and asked: "How many of those stinking asses are we expecting?"
"About six or eight." Reeve joked. "Oh, I forgot to mention thousands. Easy, boy. No need to be scared. I have seen worse."
"Major Reeve, we have incoming again." Ata mentioned coldly. Reeve looked somewhat frustrated. "Major Reeve Stoic. Right. Several thousand you say? Fine." He tossed the headphone back.
"Impossible! They're already here? It should take another 5 hours for them to get here." the Guardsman was aghast.
"Not cultists. Another undercity militia. Been holding out their own ghetto block for a while. They have exchanged a few shots with our recce squads. No one's been hurt yet. They're asking for parley." Reeve said.
"Ask them to join us! We need all the guns available." Maine is eager to get out of this in one piece.
"Form an emissary party. Church-boy, go with Maine, and pick some undercitizens that could talk their talk…is that the way you guys say it?" Reeve decided to go ahead with the plan.
"Aye, Major. Under-common talk." the Guardsman reverted to his native accent.
XXX
It's talking time, for now. The emissary team brought the aquila of the 27th with Maine's rag tied around it. For this mission the Guardsman trusted only himself and the appointed Maine, given that the companies had bitter dealings with the Hive 15 undercitizens that turned traitor. The duo walked for about ten minutes from the defensive perimeter before a series of gunshots were heard. Solid slugs pelted the pavement before them.
"Halt! Halt your steps, Imperials!" a voice boomed from a distance. "You come for talk or fight?"
"Aye! We came for talk! Your Boss, ask him out!" Maine shouted.
"Them scouts tell me that the 1st Company is here. I only see the aquila of the 27th. And the 27th is wiped out. Don't think you can fool us. Are you fucking Farties? We only worship the Emperor here. No fucking gramps or your eternity bullshit!" the voice boomed again. The Guardsman could see him now. The man was somewhat big and burly, and was shouting through a loudspeaker from a fortified flat in the ghetto block in front of them.
"Whoever your boss is, ask him out!" the Guardsman took off his helmet and stood out in the open. "I am coming unarmed." Before he could take another step, another slug hit the pavement right before him.
"You hold your steps, Imperial, Cultist or whatever you are. You hit one of ours, and he's hurt bad. We don't trust you at all." the burly man disappeared from his position. Hopefully he's getting someone important.
The Guardsman turned his head back to Maine. "I thought nobody's hurt in the previous exchange." Maine shrugged his shoulder. "It's been ten minutes, after all. A lot of things could happen in ten minutes." The pair stood in their place for a few more minutes. No doubt that Reeve is getting anxious.
"Child of the Undercity! You've returned!" the voice of an old lady echoed down the streets. "Come in, and bring your friend with you. We will talk."
"Mother Hysteria?" the Guardsman is somewhat shocked.
"What type of name is Hysteria anyway?" Maine muttered under his breath as the two walked down the streets. The ghetto blocks were fortified in every way possible. The undercitizens were always resourceful when it comes to large scale gang wars. And this militia gang was better equipped than most. Trenches, barbed wire and even large caliber repeater-sluggers were present in sufficient density to delay frontal assaults of company size without armored support. "They've got experts here, no shit." Maine observed.
Undercity gangs that refused to join the cultists' bid sought refuge here, and these gangsters gave the two imperial guardsmen extremely dirty looks. A few gave them the 'fuck you' salute. Maine pretended not to see anything. The Guardsmen felt compelled to salute back, but the fealty of purity kept him from it. No doubt that the cultists had to fight the other gangs first as they spread through the undercity. It's only surprising that the cultists gambled before achieving total dominance.
"You, Guardsman. They say you're an undercitizen right from this crap hole!" the big burly man suddenly appeared from a dark street. "You guardsmen turned traitor in the battle. All the hive 15 undercitizens that joined the guards did. I am surprised that the Imperials didn't shoot you."
"Enough, Chris." an old lady on a wheel chair was pushed forward by a hairy bodyguard. She has a rosary in one hand and a small wooden scepter in another. "I know this child. I recognize his voice everywhere. The most beautiful voice I have ever heard." The Guardsman knelt besides her and bowed his head. The old lady extended her trembling hand, and felt his face and head. "And how have you grown? Has it been that long already?" The creased and rheumatic fingers pinched his cheeks and felt his nose and ears. It was comforting.
"Mother Hysteria, all Guardsman from the undercity joined the cultists and worship only Gramps. They've forsaken the Emperor." Chris reminded. He doesn't trust the Guardsman at all.
"Hush, Chris. He left the undercity after Gramps tried to have him. He is a pure and lovely boy. Always, and it would never change. Those without sight are blessed with other gifts from the Most Beneficent One." Hysteria bent forward to kiss the Guardsman on his forehead. It would appear that she was completely blind, her eyes were covered by a layer of scar tissue.
"Mother Hysteria, you're the only Mother I have known. We request refuge. We have two hundred and thirty men, fifty of them wounded. The horde is coming, we need to be prepared." the Guardsman put forth his request like a son asking for food from his caring parent.
"You and all your friends, they are welcome. Chris, let them in. If we can take the Sharks, Pigs of 56 and Boris' Grunts, we can most cetainly take the guards, especially if they're the friends of our Child."
"Aye, Mother Hysteria." Chris bowed in obedience and began to bellow out orders.
"Child, there's so much you missed in your absence. So many things have happened, irregardless of what is going on above us. The Emperor's Light could hardly shine through in this dark hour. Two years ago they robbed me of my sight, but it only made me see all things clearer." Mother Hysteria mentioned her bodyguards to take the guardsmen for a walk. They were headed for the Unter-Bastion, a Church dedicated to the Emperor built by the undercitizens. This immense conglomerate of undercity faith and recycled concrete and steel was heavily connected with the surrounding ghettos by a series of tunnels and gangways. Eight years since he left, and it still looked the same.
"Who are they that took out your sight, Mother?"
"Who else can it be but those that serve Gramps?" Hysteria said sadly. "It was not destined for my eyes, but rather my throat to silent me forever. Fortunately Chris was there. Poor souls, I remembered taking care of them as children, and they abused my trust and love. How far have they turned away from the Emperor's Light? I can no longer see them, but only shrouds of foul darkness." The Guardsman remained silent. He knew by heart, that the rewards of such trust are betrayal and disappointment.
"Gramps…he has been here for as long as I can remember too." the Guardsman said.
"It's only after they took my sight that I see him. Gramps is not of this world, Child. He serves something older, something that have accompanied life as a necessity. By the Emperor's Wisdom we have discerned its true purpose, but there's another that I cannot name that sought to dominate. Disease, decay and destruction, all these are natural processes. This thing is attempting to use these to further its own interest."
"I believe this Gramps is a follower of Purgle, Murple or something." Maine tried to remember something he overheard from Regimental Command.
"Hush, foolish one!" Mother Hysteria suddenly snapped. "I cannot tolerate the mention of blasphemous names in the most Holy House. You ought to be scourged!" Maine again shrugged his shoulder at the Guardsman.
"Faith is the core of our existence, and utterance of blasphemy is an assault on faith." the Guardsman said to Maine.
"How did this Gramps spread so far and fast then?" Maine asked.
"Desperation. It all breeds on desperation." the Guardsman replied. The group entered the Church and saw many of the old, the women and the children huddled together in pathetic heaps. This ghetto was meant only for at most ten thousand citizens, but from the looks of it, at least fifty thousand were packed here. The Unter-Bastion was the last stronghold for those that wished to stick to the Emperor's Path in the Undercity. The Guardsmen knew that they would all die if the cultists smash their way in.
"Fear and trepidation in your heart, Child?" Hysteria sensed the Guardsman's apprehension. "Do not be distrustful of your emotions. They serve to remind us of our own weakness, and knowing that we are weak is not a trespass in His Sight. Rather, it should compel you into action." The Unter-Bastion bells started ringing. "Oh, it's already time for prayer!"
Major Reeve Stoic barged his way in like a mad beast. "Church-boy! Get back to your post! Lieutenant Maine, have you put forward the request of complete military command?"
"Erm, I don't think so." Maine stammered.
"Dallying with old women and gangsters? Wasting your time here?" Reeve bellowed. "Who's the fucking leader of this pathetic jumble?"
"Major Reeve Stoic." Mother Hysteria said coldly. "Be quiet. You are disturbing the Hour for the Emperor." The Guardsman signaled with his hands. This is the leader.
"No shit." Maine confirmed.
XXX
The undercity militia, which Mother Hysteria blessed with the holy name of Bastion Keepers, only managed to hold the first assault at bay. It would seem they're no longer fighting normal humans. The cultists seemed to be oblivious to pain or fear, and clawed their way through the barbed wire. The brutal assault was accompanied by the usual ululating chant that sang praises to Gramps. The extreme deformation of the rebel assault squads was an abhorrent sight. These massive hills of flesh swaggered through the battlefield dripping all sorts of foul smelling pus. Armed with a large caliber slugger sewn to their diseased arms, they tried to smash their way beyond the barricade. The Keepers had only rudimentary filter masks and were overwhelmed by the stench. Many began to retch and vomit, unable to maintain their fighitng abilities.
"Fuck this shit. Thing just keeps getting better and better." Boyle Young unloaded an autocannon round into the slow moving monstrosities, blasting limb and chunks of the torso off. But they seemed to be completely oblivious to the damage. One of them, whose lower jaw has completely rotted away, unleashed an unearthly howl as it crashed through the barbed wire, leaving chunks of itself dangling on the hooks.
"Shoot their legs, Boyle! They probably can't get back up if they lose their legs!" the Guardsman bellowed as he threw a grenade into the midst of the enemy assault. The aquila of the 27th is firmly in his hands.
Greg 'Boomer' latched a new box of rounds onto the feeder. "Last box, Young. Shoot carefully."
Boyle adjusted his aiming protocols to great effect. The bloated monstrosities could only lie helpless on the ground after their legs have been reduced to bleeding stumps. The pressure across the entire line was great, but the cultists have lost all semblance of order, and could only muster one suicidal charge after another to be mowed down by the cross fire of the Keepers and the Guards. Major Reeve Stoic stood calmly at the fortified flat looking at senseless bloodbath going on before him. They're desperate and panicking for some reason. But even at this rate, their numbers will prevail, and the ghetto fort completely overrun. He spots a weakness. Not too obvious, but clear enough.
"Maine, I want you to lead the 97th together with a few heavy assault squads, and as many men as you could get. Strike at the left, the cultists overextended themselves and are caught in the triple moat. Hopefully that would throw them back for a while. We're already running out of ammo." Reeve said through the vox.
"Aye Major. What's going on in your position?"
"Not much. Hysteria is praying with the women and children as usual."
"I think the prayer works, Major. Their chants are not turning butterflies in my guts." Maine observed.
"Pah. Its just a matter of resistance. You already got used to it. Lead the assault, and withdraw when you beat them back."
Maine adjusted his ear vox-talker and drew out his chainsword. "To me, 3rd squad!" Over fifty carapaced guardsmen around him shouted: "ULLA!" in response. "Church, bring the 97th with me. We will strike the left. Reeve saw a weakness."
"At your command, Lieutenant Maine." the Guardsman said. Boyle gave a thumbs-up sign. The heavy weapons specialists would provide cover. Bern Hertz took as much grenades as he could.
"We will get them for Kilburn." Janus Bring said, cocking his rifle confidently. "Vengeance for the old man and Kunst."
"Aye! To me, men of the 97th! In the name of Kunst!" the Guardsman whipped out his chainsword as well and rallied behind Maine. Over five hundred of the Keepers joined the assault on the basis of whim. The huge assault group weaved through the roughly dug communications trench and came within striking distance just as the cultist assault squad struggled out of the moat with its hidden spikes and submerged wires.
"Fire! Unleash hell!" Maine emptied an entire battery on his laspistol, overheating it in the process. The cultists were shot to pieces in the moat, falling back into it and getting tangled again by the wires. Bern Hertz hurled an assault charge like a real pro, landing it right in the midst of another cultist squad, sending pieces of them flying in a giant explosion.
"For Papa Kunst!" the 97th cheered.
"Charge! In the Name of the Emperor, Charge!" the Guardsman was first over the top, not wishing to waste this split second of momentum advantage. He crunched the sickeningly soft ribs of a bloated cultist with his hard synthetic leather boots and cleaved another in half with his chainsword. Maine was not keen to let the 97th steal the glory. He clambered over the top with the 3rd squad stormtroopers, stepping on the bodies of the cultists to cross the moat. The stormtroopers punched their way through the densest fire, aware that small caliber slugs could not penetrate their body armor. Cultists' limbs and bodies were seared through by almost point-blank las blasts. The Keepers joined the fray, shouting gang slogans and cursing the Farties and Gramps in general. Their crude guns were effective at close range, and sent many of the cultists to face eternal judgment. The 27th aquila was always at the forefront, bringing hell and destruction to the cultist around it.
A hooded and hunched man, his upper body naked and bloated with a purplish tone, appeared to be the rallying and command center of the cultists' left. The Guardsman saw him first, surrounded by three towering figures. These monstrosities are not unlike servitors, but where servitors were built to serve serve, these crude combinations of men and machine were constructed for death. Thick armor plates and guns were sewn directly onto their limbs and torso. Rusted pipes helped to exchange body fluids between their defunct organs and a large chambered tank strapped onto their backs. Bern Hertz tried to throw a grenade right in their midst, only to see it explode in midair.
"This is bullshit! The fuse can't burn out that fast!" Bern cursed as he drew his combat knife to defend himself against a frothing cultist swinging wildly with a crude mace. The storm troopers with their bayoneted assault rifles made quick work of their ill trained foes. Heeding the wild waving gesture of their hooded shepherd, the three monstrosities began blasting their way through their own to stop the guardsmen before they come to close. Large caliber slugs penetrated the stormtrooper carapaces easily and cleanly, leaving horrendous wounds and death in its wake.
"We need some heavy ordinance for these apes!" Maine cursed. Even close-range las fire seemed to do no significant damage. Sure it seared holes in their flesh that would kill an ordinary man, but these monsters don't seem to feel pain at all. One of the Keepers fired a grenade round that sunk deep into the flesh of a cyborg cultist. The resulting explosion opened a huge hole in its trunk, causing it to collapse to one of its knees. The Guardsman thrust his chainsword into its face with such force that only the hilt remained outside, and gave it a mighty jerk before pulling it out again, splattering blood, flesh and cranial matter all around. The monster clumsily raised its hand to push away its slayer, but collapsed after a brief struggle. Janus Bring made use of this opportunity to attack the leader directly with his bayonet. The hooded one swung his hand and an unseen force struck Janus right on the chest, sending him hurtling through the air and landing heavily on the ground, gasping for breath. Bern Hertz broke off from his opponent to defend his wounded comrade while the Keepers swarmed around and fought the cultists' counterattack in a brutal hand-to-hand battle.
"Mutant Psyker!" the Guardsman muttered under his breath as he cleaved off the limb of a traitor, leaving him howling and screaming at his bleeding stump. The momentum was swinging towards the other side as more of the Keepers and Guards began to fell underneath the volume of fire pouring from the massed cultists. The hooded figure, however, was not a particularly courageous one. He immediately withdrew the two remaining cyborg monsters to protect himself. His arm gestures and body language clearly exhibited his immense fear.
"YOU!" a malevolent voice screamed in his head. "YOU! GRAMPS WANTS YOU DEAD! HE WANTS YOU DEAD BAD!"
"No! The Emperor Protects!" the Guardsman didn't know why he even bothered to reply at all. Everything became a reddish blur as a cultist's club connected with his forehead. But that didn't stop him. The Guardsman sawn his assailant in half and continued his charge with a fanaticism that he has never felt before. The hooded figure shook his head violently and raised his arms up into the air.
"CURSE THE FALSE EMPEROR! I CAN'T SEE YOU!" the voice screamed again. "GRAMPS! GIVE ME STRENGTH! GIVE ME YOUR VISION! NO! DON'T LEAVE ME!" The hooded figure turned and fled. The Guardsman ducked beneath the swipe of a bloated giant, cleaving its unarmored leg right above the knee. The cyborg collapsed and struggled to get up, but the Guardsman ended its pathetic life by severing its relatively puny head. The last of the monsters fell under concentrated fire of the storm troopers. The heavy weapons squad of the assault team secured whatever highland beyond the trenches, and poured down a deluge of explosive shells that opened fist sized holes on the cyborg's thick armor. Lieutenant Maine, one of his arm shattered by a club, still waved the chainsword deftly. Like the Guardsman, he ensured that this cyborg would miss his head very much.
"Church, did we lose the psyker?" Maine shouted. "I can't see him!"
The Guardsman did not hear him. Everything appeared to be in delayed motion in his eyes. I must end this now. He wasn't aware of the big gaping wound in his forehead and the sheet of blood that ran down his face. He also did not know how he caught up with the fleeing Psyker. But he did know that it was his chainsword that sheared the mutant down the center, spilling his poisonous and corrupt brains onto the battlefield.
"Fuck that! Church! We gotta pull back!" Maine suddenly gripped the Guardsman shoulder while he was still in the exhilaration of victory. The ground before them appeared to be alive with the gut worms, writhing and squirming, urged on by more anthropomorphic and even more disgusting blobs of flesh, pus and teeth. "They got the gut worms and something worse!"
The Guardsman shook his head to clear his bloodlust. The air seemed to be alive with flies as well. They only managed to beat back the first wave. Five even bigger and bloated amalgams of flesh and steel clambered towards them in the thick living miasma, each looking more repulsive than the other. Barrage after barrage of shell and fire poured into the trenches, sending pieces of guardsmen and keepers into the air. The monstrous guns mounted on the living tanks were then loaded by hooded attendees that swarmed about them. A careless one was trampled beneath the giant legs. No one seemed to care. The horde had only one aim, and that was to push forward at all costs.
"Maine, get your ass back now." Reeve's voice sounded through the static in Maine's earpiece. "We can't last another two hours with you out there against these oversized shit-eaters."
"They've got armor! Fall back! Fall back!" Maine immediately relayed the command. "Back to the trenches!"
Bern hoisted the limping Janus on his back as the stormtroopers covered the retreat. The heavy weapons squad hurriedly packed their weapons. One of them was a direct recipient of a giant cannon round, the two squad members were killed instantaneously. The Keepers were broken, running with their eyes wild with panic and fear.
"No retreat! To me, Guards! The Emperor's Finest is here!" the Guardsmen raised his bloody chainsword in an act of defiance, and plunged the 27th aquila into the body of the fallen psyker. The guards ignored him and retreated, leaving the Guardsman awfully alone on the field. At this very instant a trio of Ultramarines Tempests screamed through the air, unleashing high explosive rockets into the mob of cultists and pouring ultra-dense slugger rounds into the hulking juggernaughts. One of them appeared to be hit in the fuel store which then exploded, consuming the monster in a sheet of flames. The cultist horde buckled as the combined relieving army arrived, two hours before schedule.