Chapter 46: Real Space Translation
Two weeks and four days after the incident, the Victorious Sword emerged from the Warp.
In the middle of a training exercise, we were rudely interrupted by a blaring of klaxons and the deafening sirens alerting us that we had arrive in system…wherever…and whenever, that was.
My heart was thumping in my chest. This was it. We were here.
"This is a ship-wide alert, I repeat, this is a ship-wide alert. We have translated from the Warp and have arrived in system. I repeat, we have arrived in system. Preparation for planetary engagement begins now. I repeat, preparing for planetary engagement begins now," the monotone alert blared across the ships intercom system, over and over. This was really happening. We were here. We were about to go off to war.
Not that it seemed to bother any of the Cadian's, who kept going about their duties as enthusiastically as before, if not a little more. All the officers demanded everyone stay focused on the exercises, saying it'd be a long time before any of us were due to be sent off to the planet.
"A planetary invasion takes time. We might be waiting days before we get our deployment orders," Alexei snapped, yelling at everyone to keep their focus on their training. I didn't know whether that was a good thing or not. I'd lost a lot of sleep over the prospect of going off to war. Four months of training was hardly enough to prepare you for a real battleground, and the dozens of training exercises we'd done in the arena and the environment simulator hardly seemed like adequate preparation to me. I was not eager to see what a real battlefield was like, nor risk my life for a planet I knew nothing about and was in all likelihood of very little strategic value.
The others seemed to have mixed feelings as well. Some, like Egeers and Prassus, couldn't seem to wait to get onto solid ground and blast apart some enemies, but others, like Evet, seemed as reluctant as I felt about this whole endeavour. But its not like we had much time to focus on that, now, and there's nothing we could do about it anyway. At least, nothing that wasn't more unpleasant then going down there and fighting.
The training exercise seemed to fly by, and Alexei still kept up his lectures. My opinion of him had become somewhat frosty after the incident. Sure, he had put in a good word to the Commissar, but he'd also said more then a few negative things about me. Likewise, the sergeant had grown even more demanding and disciplined then he was before. Whatever hints of his underlying character we'd glimpsed before, and he'd reverted to the same old mechanical sergeant he was when we first met.
Neither of us had acknowledged the incident since, and whatever Alexei had to do as punishment he kept from us. In fact, to my knowledge, none of the squad even knew he'd been punished. They knew I was, there was no way to hide that, and they certainly didn't seem to mind someone cleaning up all their mess after them every day, even if they strove to make a small a mess as possible. Sergeant Alexei had just doubled down on insisting that we must prepare ourselves as well as possible. I guess we'd find out if it had all been in vain all not soon enough. My stress levels were through the roof just thinking about it. I got physically jittery at the mere thought of real combat. The prospect seemed to grow more and more serious with each passing day, and now it was getting worse by the hour. I was sure I'd developed anxiety these past few months. I certainly seemed to be far more stressed then I ever was back home, but that was understandable. This was serious shit, and there was no way to back out of it.
Later that day, after a lunch of rice and vegetables, we were told we'd be receiving our orders that afternoon. I could feel myself starting to sweat at those words. Each passing hour the intensity was ramping up. The entire atmosphere of the ship had changed. There was much more hustle and bustle, the mess hall was packed to the brim with people, the training areas a hive of activity. The intercom was never silent, and sirens constantly went off to alert us about the ship closing into the planet. By the time we'd fought through the crowds to reach our platoons meeting area, I had a constant tremor in my hand from the nerves. No one else in the squad seemed eager to speak. It seemed the reality was beginning to settle in for them as well, judging on the nervous half smiles and pale faces. Or perhaps they were just shocked about the sudden activity?
Lieutenant Quentin seemed positively bursting with energy when he greeted us, shaking our hands as we walked in. He was in his nice mode right now, all smile and charm. I was waiting for the madman to come out. The other squads came in quick time. No one was waiting around, not now. Now was the time for action.
"Today's the day we've been waiting for, ladies and gentlemen," Quentin began, and the Cadian's cheered. Lieutenant Quentin smiled and nodded and waited for the cheers to die down.
"Yes, yes, a chance to finally get off this ship!" He laughed, then turned serious. Here it comes. The switch.
"Right!" Quentin snapped, and everyone sat forward, eyes focused up front. "We're here. But where is here?"
He ordered some of his attendants to bring out a giant projector screen, and a heap of folders on a trolley, which were handed out to the sergeants. Quentin pulled out a cane from underneath the trolley and began to tap the projector screen. Displayed in rather shocking quality was a sketchy picture of a blue-green planet, not too dissimilar from Earth.
"This is the world of Takritar, who have declared independence from the Imperium and refused to pay their tithe. They've been living as apostates for a little over two hundred years, until a Imperial resurgence began a little over three years ago. The planet has been embroiled in a civil war since. Loyalist forces have managed to reclaim much of the planets southern hemisphere and are now moving into its northern hemisphere. That is where we come in. We are going to take over from them and land the killing blow, ending this civil war with a series of swift and decisive battles. By commands current estimates, we should win this war in as little as three to five months."
So, that's the important parts right there. We'd be fighting humans. Other humans. Rebels. Separatists, traitors, successionists, whatever you'd want to call them. I'd just have to hope the rebels weren't backed by anything…chaotic.
"Now, according to the information on hand, Takritar is a rather capable industrial and agricultural world. Large population, large industry, and a rather organised military. The apostates have got their own local Mechanicus support and are backed by their own homemade arms and armour. Of course, they'd be nothing compared to the glorious tools at our disposal, but be warned! They may have all sorts of dastardly tricks up their sleeves. Expect a combination of ballistic and laser weaponry, and a well drilled and well honed fighting forced, tempered by war and fighting for their home. They may be worthless apostates and heretics to boot, fighting with whatever scrap they assembled in their factories, but don't doubt their prowess. They won't be Cadian's but they won't be pushovers. Expect resistance, is that clear?"
"Sir, yes, sir," everyone nodded. Quentin moved on to the next part of the briefing.
"Now, our deployment. Takritar has a rather decentralised yet highly urbanised command and control infrastructure, centred in several major urban and industrial metropolitan areas across their northern hemisphere. One such city, the city of Bosphokell, is our target. It sits near this coastline," Quentin tapped a map of the continent for emphasis, "along this river, feeding both farmland and industry. It is surrounded by smaller satellite cities and is said to be well defended. This city will be the site of our initial deployment."
Quentin had the projector slides changed to a map of Bosophokell. It looked like a huge urban sprawl, not a Hive city, thankfully, but huge nonetheless. According to the scale, it was at least the size of Tokyo city. That would be one hell of a fight. My mood didn't exactly improve upon realising just how vast the battleground was meant to be.
"We will be supported by an attack from three separate loyalist armies, divided into Army East, West and South, denoting their angle of attack. We will be supporting Army South, which will strike towards the city centre. The Cadian 417th will deploy behind the Loyalist frontline, and then push forward in the wake of their spearhead. We will secure the entire southern section of the city up to the riverbanks, which the Loyalist groups will cross in preparation for subsequent assaults by us. We in particular will be moving along the rear south-eastern flank, tasked with securing key sites in the wake of the Loyalist advance and our own frontline. Such sites will be areas deemed important for occupying the city and fortifying in the event of a counterattack, such as highway junctions, landrail yards, subterranean tunnels and aviation strips. These pieces of key infrastructure will allow us to strangle the city in our grip and choke out any resistance movements or stall any counterattack in our wake."
The Cadian's didn't seem very impressed by this. They were probably hoping for frontline combat, the chance to get into the thick of it, but it seemed we'd be far removed from the actual fighting, capturing areas already cleared out by two different waves of forces. With any luck, we'd barely see any real fighting at all, but I knew better then to hope for that. I was certain we'd see conflict, and I wasn't about to set myself up for disappointment.
"There are other sites that have been identified as important to secure. The enemy has a habit of utilising hit and run and insurgency tactics in the wake of open combat, and prepares ammo caches, concealed artillery and sabotaged infrastructure before their retreats, in anticipation of local militia continuing the fight long enough for their PDF to sweep back in. This tactic has stalled the Loyalists more then once, according to our intel, and command refuses to let a bunch of bloody insurgents stop us with such cheap tactics. We Cadian's know all too well about resisting an enemy invasion, so we're the prime candidates for rooting such an enemy out of their holes. Because of this, there will be significant engineer corps and Mechanicus forces deployed to aid us dismantle the enemies resistance network. So, if you see a load of bulldozers and minesweepers being flown in over your head, be ready to do some good old-fashioned street sweeping and escort duties, yeah?"
The Cadian's nodded solemnly, now that they knew what to expect, it seemed they were readying themselves for the coming fight. It sounded like we'd have a shit ton of work to do, a shit ton of work which we'd not necessarily prepared for, but at least we weren't on the frontlines, and, more importantly, we were only fighting other humans. That'd still be incredibly unpleasant, perhaps even more so, since you'd feel worse for shooting another human then you would for blasting apart an Ork or a Tyranid, but it told me what to expect. A war much like anything we'd see on Earth…or at the very least, recognisable as a war on Earth.
Lieutenant Quentin went on and on about the details of our deployment, our strength, the enemy strength, the nature of the environment, what sort of combat scenarios we'd be involved in. He said that it'd be a rather quick and easy war, all things considered, with the bulk of the fighting concentrated on other areas of the planet and being fought across open fields and plains. Sweeping in and securing an urban area already under attacked by three separate armies was a rather easy task, in the grand scheme of this war. None of that made me feel any better. My hands still wouldn't stop shaking.
Then came the most important piece of information. When were we personally due to deploy?
According to Lieutenant Quentin, command had put ordered us to deploy in seven hours. Seven hours. That'd be…around 8 or 9PM, ship time, but who knows what that'd be on the planet. Ugh, we're likely going to experience some real bad jet lag…or whatever the interplanetary equivalent is, when we got down there, weren't we? Worse still, we'd be expected to fight even though we'd be tired as all hell.
I can't imagine that'd be good for efficiency or morale, but I'd seen a lot of things these past four months that were like that. It'd just be another obstacle to push past.
Quentin concluded the briefing by saying this war would be as simple as a stroll in the park, and we'd be done and dusted and off to the next real war before we knew what was what. I wasn't feeling remotely as optimistic as him. In fact, I was feeling downright depressed by this point. My stress and anxiety were overwhelming.
After the briefing, we were told to head off to our barracks to get a few hours of sleep, in preparation for the landing. There was nothing else to do but wait around, and sleeping was the most effective thing we could do at this point. So, there we were, in our beds, in our barracks, for the last time in who knows how many months, all mulling over the thought of finally going to war.
"I can't wait to murder some heretics," Egeers said. Of course he'd be excited. He was a borderline fanatic at times.
"I just want to do my duty," Prassus said, and half the room murmured in agreement. "What we've been trained for."
"I just don't want to die," I said, and a few people laughed. I can understand how it may be seen as a joke, but I was deadly serious. I really didn't want to be put in a life threatening situation, but who was I going to talk to about that? Everyone here thought I was all in for that. In fact, after the incident, most of them seemed to think I actually liked this stuff. The squads perception of me had gone from doubt and scepticism to something completely overblown and way out of proportion. I was more paranoid then ever about screwing up now then I was when I got here. I had stuff to lose now. That had contributed to my stress, no doubt.
"We'll be fine," Evet said, lying back on her bed and looking up at the roof. Above was, the hangar was no doubt bursting with activity as troops were shuttled down to the surface. I didn't want to think about the prospect of us going down there in a few hours. Sleep did not come to me, I was too restless to be blessed with that relief. I sat there, on my bed, rolling around fitfully, eyes shut in a desperate attempt to fall asleep. The hum of the ship's machinery seems deafening, even here the intercom was blaring away without end. The distant sound of alarms and sirens was also off-putting, and whenever I felt I was on the verge of sleep I'd be jolted awake, eyes wide open, by any sound out of the ordinary. I glanced at the clock, and saw the hours rolling by, bringing the eventual confrontation closer and closer. Minute by minute, hour by hour, the time between me and the battlefields of the 41st millennium were whittled away.
I tried to calm myself, but there was little peace to be found. I must've gone to the toilet half a dozen times, and just sat there, hoping I'd be able to get out of it, that I'd be whisked away, that I'd just suddenly by yanked back home. Alas, no such relief came. I was stuck here.
"I don't want to be here," I murmured in the pitch black of the bathroom. "I want to go home," I sniffled, wiping away some budding tears. Pathetic? Maybe, but I knew I wasn't ready for this.
But there was no backing down. There was no way out. It was inevitable. I was heading off to war. I might die.
The last hour seemed to go by excoriatingly slowly, and, in no time at all, the lights flickered on, a horn bellowed, and we were told over the intercom to head up to the hangar. It was time to go.