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Chapter 2: On Death's ground
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Part 1
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Imperial lines
Pavonian Heartlands
Kronus was for a tough time even in the best case scenario. If we lost, everyone would be dead if we were lucky, otherwise we just might become the playthings of daemons and Xeno alike. And when we win as I had to continue repeating to myself and anyone willing to listen? Then everyone still alive on Kronus would be on short rations for the foreseeable future. That one was inevitable – about half the Imperial Guard and most of the loyal PDF units were deployed straight in the middle of the continent if not the planet's breadbasket and very soon we would turn it into a death field.
Outside the Colonel's CP, priests screamed prayers to Him on Terra as if their sheer volume would make him hear and respond. Commissars marched up and down the ranks, shouting encouragements and threats – they did their best to instil more fear in the troops of themselves and me than the green tide fast approaching us.
"Scouts have firm lock on the first wave – it's a disorganized mob, primary melee troops with mixed shooters and the odd AT." An aide reported.
A Techpriest wearing rusty red robe that concealed almost his, or hers, whole body shifted in the far corner of the CP. Mechatendrils waved in a silent rhythm, red light shone from the hood hiding the Martian's face or what they had replaced it with and the picture on the hololith in the centre of the room, shifted.
"Keep the artillery silent and concealed. Heavy Weapon Teams are clear to begin mortar bombardment to soften up the horde once the enemy enters effective range. Unless we're in danger to be overrun, Kill Teams are to hang back. We're likely to get only one chance of this unless the Emperor smiles upon us and the fleet boys and girls manage to fry us a Warboss." Colonel Barnabas instructed. His cleanly shaven head almost reflected the light of the tactical consoles. Instead, his midnight black skin tone, just this side of being unnatural, practically absorbed the light. Two rolls of silver metal teeth flashed in a crooked grin. "The Greenies want a scarp. Let's give them one they will never forget."
Besides a three dimensional map of the Area of Operations, now the hololith displayed three windows – feeds from Servo Skulls attached to the forward observers and scout elements. As far as the horizon stretched all that could be seen were massed ranks of jogging Orks. Most of them were rather huge, green – naturally, butt ugly, had tusks that would make the largest of boars feel inadequate and every single one of them brandished some kind of weapon, often two or more. Crude axes and swords were a given, along with armour that was practically whatever piece of scrap they cough get their grabby hands on. Some of them wielded even cruder firearms that by no means should be able to fire, yet in Ork hands were still dangerous. Much smaller figures darted between the legs of the larger specimens. They were even uglier if that was possible – tiny, gnarled parodies of children that ran in every which way only to be often trampled or even grabbed for a hungry Ork to take a bite of the screaming creatures before throwing the rest away.
Dark, choking smoke formed clouds far behind the visible horde – the enemy vehicle formations, if the expected mob of scrap that somehow moved warranted such a lofty tittle.
"Designated marksmen, greet our guests. The rest of the Regiment – hold fire until the Orks come closer." Barnabas added. Only now, did he turn to address me. "Inquisitor, it's an honour you chose to fight beside us today. What are your orders?"
Barely visible spears of coherent light lanced from our positions and the few enthusiasts running in front of the advancing mobs soon staggered. Smaller pieces of scrap armour outright vaporized and chunk of green flesh blew off when green skin burned and blood boiled. Wounds that would have incapacitated the average human if not proven outright fatal, merely slowed down the sprinting Orks. Better marksmen didn't bother with body shots and aimed at the heads. Jaws exploded in shower of superheated bone, eyeballs vaporized and faces melted. The joyish roars finally turned into howls of rage and pain. Finally, Orks began to fall.
"We'll wait for an opening." I nodded at the Librarian who did his best to lean on a Power Maul while clad in all the bells and whistles that a Blood Raven of his status could scrap together. Atheas was doing his best to look positively friendly and non-threatening without resorting to Warp shenanigans. Needless to say, his effort left something to be desired if the way everyone but the Colonel stiffened when we entered the CP. "Give us one and we'll do everything humanly possible and then some to bag us a Warboss."
"That's the spirit, Inquisitor!" Barnabas' rich baritone echoed around the metal walls of the CP.
"Orks entering effective range. It looks like the rest are as eager to get shot as those enthusiasts."
The horde surged forward and even in the CP we could hear the distinct thumps of mortars. HE and Promethium warheads rained fire and steel just behind the first lines of the huge mob, effectively slicing the advancing horde into smaller, easier to digest chunks. If anything, the bombardment only made the Orks more eager to get to us.
"WAAAGH!" Distant cries echoed above the plain.
"We might not be able to detect Eldar craft before they begin bombing us." I warned.
"We've deployed the heavy AA assets covering our artillery and logistics. The light and medium AA is what we have to cover the rest." The Colonel gave a small shrug. It wasn't like we could call in more assets. "The Aeronautica is out in force as well."
"Ork mobs moving in all across the line..." A Vox operator reported.
On the hololith we saw and moments later heard, auto-cannons, and all other kinds of support weapons let lose – multi-lasers, heavy stubbers favoured by the local PDF as squad support weapons, even a few Lance cannons that let lose in a less powerful anti-personnel mode – they sacrificed direct firepower for a weaker, continuous beam that experienced teams used to reap a frightful harvest from the approaching enemy. Soon, massed ranks of Guardsmen, concealed in reinforced bunkers if they were lucky or relying on mere trenches, sandbags and kilometres upon kilometres of barbed wire if not, began shooting volleys of laser death.
The first ranks of the horde simply vanished, devoured by the firepower arrayed against them. The rest of the nearly mindless brutes only intensified their joyful cries and pushed forward.
"Mortars, switch." Barnabas ordered.
For a few heartbeats the shriek of falling rounds ceased before the mortar teams fixed the next pre-targeted line and opened fire again, thus serving the next chunk of the horde for our front-line.
And so it begins…
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Part 2
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Ork horde
Pavonian Heartlands
Engines roared, Mek Boyz screamed and laughed at each other, Nobs and Mega Armoured Nobs drummed wicked claws into plates of solid metal chanting. Above all else, countless Orks chanted their joy as one.
"WAAAAGH!"
Warboss Gorgutz 'Ead 'Hunter grinned toothily from his perch – on top of a huge contraption built by his Mek Boyz. All around him, as far as he could see, vehicles of all stripes drove more or less in the same direction – to battle! From boyz on kitted up bikes – with skulls from those weak hummies they didn't have fun with over the past few days, to looted tankz and even some built by the Mek Boyz when they got bored.
Life was good – her was surrounded by more boyz than he had earned teeth so far, from what he could hear, the hummiez finally decided to bring on those with fight in them, there were even those weird blue-skins to fight! It was going to be glorious! At least that waswhat Gorgutz kept telling himself. Over the past couple of days he couldn't help but feel a damn itch in the back of his skull and tonight, once the sun set, as his horde moved past those mountains to the right, they all saw pretty green lighting… That was a propar colour, not like those dumb blue boyz! The Warboss shook his head after it by instinct turned to look in the direction of those mountains. Even now, with the sun rising and falling upon his advancing boyz, he could see forks of deep green colour, darker than the skin of most Orks.
That picture unsettled something deep in him. His whole body itched for a fight and Gorgutz hoped by Morg that the hummiez would provide! Then, once the Waaagh swept them away, he could turn the whole horde against that… The Warboss blinked as he lost his thought… The itch, the pressure for battle, it grew with every passing moment. It was a drive like he had never experienced before. It was glorious!
"WAAAAGH!" Gorgutz waved his Mega-Claw. "Faster! Blood Axes! Faster damn you!" He needed to fight, now!
"We're red! We're fast!" The Mek Boy driver roared back. Whatever the fume-drunk little runt did, the giant truck, which was naturally painted bright red, kicked into gear and accelerated.
"WAAAGH!" Gorgutz responded and slammed his claw into the ceiling of the truck, denting it. The clang served to relax his urge a tiny bit so he did it, again and again.
All around the Warboss, his Orks began drumming on whatever was in reach in beat with him.
Now, this was a propar WAAAGH!" Gorgutz concluded.
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By the time the Warboss could see the fighting, the itch was back in full power. His muscles tensed, ready to snap from a pressure coming from within. Far in the distance, explosions, fire and blood flew in all directions. The hummiez fought. Excellent!
"Advance! Bring us closer!" Gorgutz roared. The moment he laid eyes on the combat, deep buried instincts took over. He had to be there, right in the thick of it. His body demanded it and even as they approached, something within began to change. 'Ead 'Hunter began to sweat and his bloodshot eyes never left the mesmerizing sight of artillery tearing Boyz to shreds. "GO! Drive over them!"
All around him, the Orks felt the same tension, both in the air and deep within their bodies and they all surged forward. Divisions worth of armour drove forward heedless of what was on the way – Boyz on foot, bikes, other smaller vehicles – it didn't matter. Anything and everything that stood between them and the fight they drove over or through. Very soon, the faster and more agile bikes and smaller trucks pulled forward and drove through the back lines of the thinning mobs at the head of the horde.
It was a time honoured and the often preferred Ork strategy – throw endless bodies at the enemy and if there were points of tough resistance – throw more at them, because there the scrapping be good! More often than not, it tended to work if for no other reason because once the enemy at the point of contact ran of heavy weapon ordnance of said weapons overheated, the Ork mobs could swarm them. That was a perfect way for younger, weaker runts to prove themselves and grow if they lived.
Gorgutz blinked at those thoughts – as he came closer and closer to the fight, his mind began to clear even as the pressure to join the fray and grow constantly intensified without a respite in sight. These thoughts… They weren't proper Orky ones or were they? He used his Mega-Claw to scratch his temple and brush away some sweat and skin alike. If he was the hummiez, he would show his hand soon to deal with the danger of the armour… Where did that come from?
Golden light shone all across the sky. Clouds and smoke alike trembled and tore asunder as spears of pure energy slammed into the back of the Ork armour formations. Boyz and tanks alike ceased to exist within three hundred metres of the epicentres of the orbital strikes. Two kilometres away, heat-wave flash burned flesh searing it away from the bone and melted all metal it washed over. Beyond that distance, the heat itself gradually ceased to be immediately deadly at least for those safely buttoned in looted tanks.
For them, the shock-wave that came on the heels of the heat proved to be a proper can opener.
In one fell sweep, the orbital strikes tore off and devoured the heart of Gorgutz' horde. Perhaps, he shouldn't have clumped everyone together in such a delicious target, the Warboss thought even as the never-ending roar of the bombardment shook and deafened him. He shook himself and instincts long forgotten took over.
"WAAAAGH!" Gorgutz roared and every Ork in the region, no matter if they still had working ears or not, heart and felt him. His very will drove them forward and even crippled Boyz who by no means should have been able to more than crawl got up on ruined legs, or dragged themselves forward with seared hands that were more charred bones than flesh.
He felt better than ever. He was unstoppable! No puny hummiez would bring down the Orks on this day! No blue-skins, warp-spawn or the old enemies! He was Gorgutz 'Ead 'Hunter! He was Boss and he would triumph!
Multiple batteries of concealed Basilisk and Death-strike Artillery chose that moment to speak as one, roaring back their defiance in the face of the WAAAGH! Earthshaker rounds threw off the remaining mobs off their feet, fuel-air explosions tore their lungs to shreds before liquid Promethium set them all ablaze. The artillery kept coming in constant steel shower, yet the Orks driven into frenzy by Gorgutz's very will and newly awakened instincts, drove right through.
The huge machine that drove the Warboss tore its way through hills of charred and torn apart Orks. Thick clouds of spore and smoke cut the visibility to almost nothing, yet the Mek Boy driving could sense the enemy nearby and aimed their way. Soon, they exited the haze to see multiple proper Orky vehicles had made it through the artillery. They were slow – much slower they ought to be as they grind their way through mountains of corpses. That gave more than enough time for the hummiez to orderly retreat from a third line of trenches to a fourth. When the few remaining Boyz of the leading mobs swarmed over the abandoned redoubt, concealed charges turned them all into living torches before a second set scythed through them and utterly demolished that line of defence.
The Ork armour advanced heedless of the losses or their chances of victory. They were Orks, the enemy was right there, in front of them and that was all that mattered.
Something caught Gorgutz's eye and he looked up. Ugly, blocky, almost properly Orky shapes dove through the smoke choked skies. Missiles detached from pods under their winks shot down seeking targets and nose mounted energy weapons carved through armour and Orks alike. The Warboss glared impotently at the warplanes that were out of reach before he jumped from the slowed down truck and rushed towards the enemy lines. He had to get to grips with them, nothing else mattered. His instincts sang of war and the growth it heralded and finally they overtook him fully.
Gorgutz ran forward shooting at everything that moved and soon groups of Nobs – mostly the Mega Armoured ones who could survive better near-misses joined him. More and more armour made it through the steel shower and he could feel the puny hummiez faltering. He could almost taste victory here, yet the scratching in his head demanded attention. The Warboss jumped over the remains of the last abandoned trench and unstoppable tide of Nobs followed him.
The heavy armoured Boyz charged straight in even as Gorgutz himself slowed down. What he saw gave the scratch in his head the opening it needed to tamper his bloodlust. Orderly ranks of human tanks waited for them – they were dug in right behind the next line of trenches. More of them and larger models approached from behind them. He glanced up and saw the CAS planes swinging in for another pass and if that wasn't enough, three falling stars streaked through the air seemingly straight at him.
There was one single thought filling Gorgutz's mind at that moment. 'I should have planned this one better.'
As if waiting for him to get this realisation, the humans opened fire as one and drowned his screaming Nobs in an avalanche of coherent light, fire and high-explosive death. There was nothing to it – they had to break through, get among the humans or die.
"WAAAGH!" Gorgutz screamed his rage, aimed as much at himself as at the humans slaughtering his Boys and activated his tactical teleporter. A flash of unreality and alien, cold thoughts followed before he came back into the real world. His return turned a group of humans into cooked chunks of twisted flesh and bone. Before their buddies could respond, they had a furious Warboss in between them and all they could do was die screaming.