Chapter 10
Artiman First Armoured HQ Reinhoven
100kilometers from Artima Major
0800 hours standard
Atos scrolled though the bleak list of dead and wounded. Twelve men dead, two tanks damaged beyond field repair, and four men wounded. He scanned though the list, memorizing all of the names. Some men he had known for years. Just gone. This was war he supposed, death and carnage for no real reason. The common soldier had no idea why he fought, he just did. It wasn't necessary, all the bloodshed. He scrolled down to the next report, the green hue from the data slates display lighting his features like some grim reaper from camp tales. He came to the next section. M.I.A; Missing in Action, only one entry in the section. The cursor on the screen blinked harshly over the name. Major Eric Van Voytz.
Uzslag strode into the massive vaulted room, once a cathedral. The Doks had taken it over and used it as a 'hospital'; he could hear the mixture of demented laughter, blades and tools clanking and the tortured screams of the patients. He walked down the isle between the lines of operation tables. Grots swarmed around each Dok, handing him tools and organs. Uzslag had to cover his eyes when one patient, a burner boy exploded on the table, blood and splinters of bone raining down. He marched on down to the altar, were filthy blood covered canvas screens surrounded the Chief Doks surgery. A Painboy opened the curtain for him as he walked up and entered.
"Dok. Wats happnin? Howz da humie?"
"HAH?" the dok whirled round, brandishing two blood covered scalpels, his one natural eye wide and dilated. His pale green features twitching violently beneath the layers of dried blood.
"Why you open im up already? I had planz for im ya stupid runt." Uzslag had the Dok lifted off his feet by his blood soaked apron, his pistol pressed to the Doks temple.
"NO BOSS! ITZ ALRITE ITZ ALRITE! I WUZ MAKIN ME TEA!" The Dok was squirming in Uzslags grip, his body twitching even more. He grinned at the boss, his rotted teeth showing through the holes in his lips.
"Wat?" After he had asked the question, he found the answer. The human wretch was strapped to a table at the back and the doks lunch was sitting on the table closest, a sandwich made of one of his former patients by the looks of it.
"He'z in da corna boss! He'z a rite wimp iz that un. Passed out soon az i show'd im me krotch hamma." The Dok pointed to a large iron mallet, covered with spikes at the business end.
"Most orkz do Dok." The boss put in, scratching his head. "Anywayz, let's get ta work, wake im up, and get ya boyz in ere." Uzslag reclined on a dental chair. Watching the proceedings, as he nursed his pistol back into its pouch.
"PAINBOYZ! GET IN ERE! NOW!"The Doks high pitched voice rang out through the cathedral like the sound of a car crash. A constant incoherent gibbering followed, the Doks deep-rooted insanity showing well. The Mad Dok threw a bucket of black stagnant water over the human guinea pig as a group of senior Painboyz stomped in.
"Rite ladz, today, we lurnin how to add stuff to a humie. Grab some bitz and letz get to da SERJERY!" His beaten cracked voice sounded horrifying, the painboyz cheered. The human began to wake up, seeing the gang of blood covered orks, masked and carrying masses of different violent looking tools. He screamed and one painboy exclaimed, cackling as if he had found a new body part to graft.
"He screamz like a flyboyz sista! HAHA!" The crowd joined in the laughter and the Dok pulled out a long, rusted, bent bone saw and a strange object that resembled a corkscrew and a nutcracker combined. His high pitched shaking voice rang out, still twitching with every syllable, mouthfuls of deranged babbling and groaning filling the gaps between words.
"Thiz is gonna HURT! ... ALOT!" As the words reverberated through his bones and mind, Major Eric Van Voytz blacked out again, hoping against all hope that this was just some horrible dream.
The rain had stopped today, the sky was still drawn over with thick cloud but at least it was dry. A wind was sweeping in from the highlands in the east. More fields lay ahead, and beyond them, lay the next target. The final town before they reached Artima Major. He couldn't remember the name, he scarcely cared anymore, everything seemed so pointless.
Kern sat on a rusting metal chair outside a cafe. Yet another family buisness to be destroyed by the orks. The roof had caved in at the one end and the rain had left mould everywhere. The tables still stood, some with plates of long since inedible food. There were a few bodies of civilians that had been killed. Someone had covered them with sheets.
Kern looked out into the expanse with his magoculars, and looked along the single road leading through the fields. A line of blown out chimeras lay beside the track, large black craters dotting the surface of the road, dull black and gray mounds were strewn all over. Kern looked away, struggling not to throw up. He took a drink from his canteen and closed his eyes to sleep. The visions still danced even in the darkness of sleep.
"Excuse me?" A voice penetrated his sleep, it sounded familiar. Kern opened his eyes and looked around for the owner.
"Down 'ere mate!" Kern looked down tot the side of the tank to see a slim woman with a vox caster, looking up. Long brown hair hanging over her shoulders, her las-rifle slung over her shoulder.
"I was told that you're the best chef in the regiment. Veys is it?"She looked up, her blue eyes shining through the grime.
"Yes, Kern Veyer, and whoever told you that is lying. But still I can cook. What would you like?" Kern was suddenly feeling a little better, cooking was where he felt at home.
"Anything mate. Be creative, the same guy told me you liked to do that."
"Ha, well I'll try, come back in half an hour or so, I'll dig up something." Kern smiled wearily and grabbed a bag of things from inside the hatch and jumped down.
"Thanks a lot mate, much appreciated." The woman smiled again, her white teeth showing through a wide grin.
"My pleasure, what did you say your name was again?"
"Didn't, its Breeg. Emilia Breeg." She shook his hand and walked off again, leaving Kern stunned and wondering if there was a higher power out there, why did it have a ironic sense of humor?
The air was dense and heavy in the command room. A ruined chapel near the center of Reinhoven. It had been fitted out with high gain vox-caster sets, and there were maps and tables everywhere. A few officers milled around sipping caffeine and pushing little blocks around the biggest of the maps, conversing about something Zorena couldn't make out. Smoke hung in the air; the iho-stick and cigar stubs lay smoldering in mugs and on plates were officers had left them. Zorena sat back in the pew she sat on. you repeat yourself here! It had been pushed to the wall.
The chapel had once been a lavish and holy place. Now it was a ruined shell, the stained glass windows shattered and broken, the altar desecrated where the orks had used it as a kitchen and one wall was crumbling were a shell had hit it during the First's push into Reinhoven. It was all silent except for the dull chatter of the officers and the sporadic cheers from a football game outside.
The large wooden doors swung open, another shower of splinters cascading off of them onto the floor. The general walked in carrying a box under his arm and a satchel over the opposite shoulder. He walked over to a group of officers and threw the satchel to Lieutenant Brays, an older man with a thick moustache and an augmentic eye, he caught it neatly and threw a salute, shouting some thanks to the general who replied. But Zorena wasn't listening. As the General approached Zorena stood and threw a salute.
"Sir, I…" She made to explain her actions fully.
"Save it, Major." He placed the box down at his feet and ran his fingers through his hair, as if trying to think what to say next.
"Permission to speak sir."
"Granted…" He sighed placing his cap back onto his head.
"What I did back there. I've been under a lot of stress. This is our home, surely I'm not the only one, and I did have a reason, but I am over it now. I can do my duty Sir." She spoke hurriedly and in a slight panic, as if waiting for a commissar to appear around the corner at any moment.
"I know Major. I know... everyone is feeling the same strain, and I know why you disobeyed the order."
"Sir?"
"Inhumanity…? Cold blooded murder…? I felt the same way." He spoke with a small smile, but his eyes told a different story.
"But you gave to order to execute them sir. I don't know what you mean." She looked very puzzled, trying to work this out.
He sighed again. " Before I called for your team... I had sent in medic teams, that's why the medical chimera's were parked outside. I wanted to try and send them all back. "
"Sir?" She still posed it as a question, even though she knew the answers now.
"I wanted to send them back to there own kind, even though that Captain was pushing me to kill them all from the start. But he's seen a lot, he wants revenge, I had to think clearly about it. As I say, the stress it getting to everyone." He smiled feebly, indicating himself, and sitting down opposite Zorena, pulling up a stool.
"Sir...I didn't know...forgive me."
"Nothing to forgive, its pretty bad out there. Everyone knows that. Anyway, Seven medics and nine corpsmen went in and only twelve came back out. A medic and two corpsmen dead, and four corpsmen wounded." He put his head in his hands, trying to calm himself down, obviously blaming himself for every man who had died under his command over the years.
"Oh God Emperor…" Zorena trailed off as the reality of how stupid she had been started to set in, and how what she was standing up for was seeming less and less inviting as the moments passed.
"We did manage to send the walking wounded back, but only at gunpoint. They are beasts Zorena, its instinct to kill, even more since they were scared and confused."
"I must apologize Sir, my failings are unacceptable. I did not consider all of the facts." She hung her head, really starting to panic
"Calm down Major, I'm not a commissar, and I'm not going to punish you for this, even though I should. It was understandable, and I hate myself for having to do it." He looked so very distant, not at all like the man everyone in the regiment had known for twelve years.
He spoke again quietly "I was informed by the medics who came out alive that the ones who were bed ridden wouldn't last the next few hours. It was a mercy killing, and I know that is just as bad. But it was a necessary evil. So there's no need to tell me."
"I wasn't planning to sir, I know the position your in. I let my emotions get in the way of the job. It won't happen again Sir." Zorena stood again, back straight, eyes front, ready for orders. Fighting back her emotions as she had done for so many years.
"Don't start that Major, incase you haven't noticed this isn't the legions of the mighty Astares." He spoke with more humor and a genuine smile, the sentence full of sarcasm. He stood too and saluted and she returned the gesture. "We're moving into Nikell tomorrow morning, big industry sector. A lot of dug in resistance. I need you ready to lead your squadron again. Can I count on you Major Adara?"
"Sir yes Sir." She spoke, her face returning to its former expression, grim but with a soft smile.
"Good, We move tomorrow…" Robart was cut off as Atos sprinted into the chapel, brandishing a piece of paper, waving it above his head shouting. Looking as if he had found the last bottle of whesk.
"Sir! Reinforcements! Reinforcements are coming!"
