Chapter 50: Cadian Shock
I never thought I'd be so glad to hear that schizophrenic gingers voice again. I could've jumped for joy, if I could do it without getting my head blown off, that is.
"This is Private Christef, I need to talk to your sergeant," Christef said, and I winced. He didn't know Alexei was dead. Andermark heard that and grabbed what looked like a handheld radio from Christef's vox-kit, and told him to shut up and let him do the talking.
"This is Sergeant Andermark, I need to get every squad in the platoon up to these ruins. We need to root these rebels out, so we're going to do a Cadian push. I repeat, everyone listening in, we're going for a Cadian push!" Andermark bellowed into the radio. There some crackling over the channel before a reply came through.
"This is Sergeant Dominika, did I hear that right, Cadian push?"
"Dominkia, you're here?" Andermark said incredulously.
"Negative, held up back behind the battle lines by those sentinels. I've got all the weapons teams back with me, I'm leading them through the buildings to your position, but we're encountering resistance…"
"This is Sergeant Portford, what's this I'm hearing about a Cadian push?"
"Sergeant Andermark wants us to push forward," another voice said. Andermark nodded, even though no one could see him.
"Are these the lieutenants orders?" A second voice joined in.
"The lieutenants gone down, I don't even know if he's alive," Dominka said, "his Chimera fell into the tunnels below, I have no idea if anyone made it."
"So it's just us, then?" One of the unidentified voices said. Andermark nodded again.
"We have…a little over four squads here in this fight. We've taken significant losses, but we can still get through. A Cadian push is all we need," Andermark said.
What the hell was a Cadian push anyway?
There was some chatter over the vox before everyone agreed. Andermark said we'd need to form up first before driving the attack home. The other sergeants said they'd work on getting everyone into position at the same time. Whatever it was, everyone seemed to agree it was the best course of action in this situation.
"EVERYONE, FORM UP, WE'RE GOING TO JOIN THE OTHERS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE RUINS, DOWN THE ROAD!" Andermark shouted, even though the handful of people that were left of his squad were already close enough. This was crazy, I thought, as Andermark had everyone get into position, with the fastest runners at the fore and the best shots covering their approach. I realised that the squads weapon specialists had died back in the storefront, and we were left with a handful of lasguns as our only weapons. That, and Andermarks plasma pistol.
"I'm going to need everyone to run, as fast as they can, is that clear?" He said. We all nodded.
"Excellent," Andermark said, reloading his laspistol. "On three…one…two…three!"
The squad burst into motion. Ziya and Harrot took the lead, while Adat , Jahan and I covered them. We crouched on the corner of the rubble pile and kept the enemy from getting a clear shot on the runners. There was an explosion on the upper levels as a grenade was fired up from the other side of the ruins, aimed at the turrets. Was that Prassus, with his grenade launcher? I certainly hoped so. I could see one of the turrets had already been disabled by an explosion, as it was nothing more then flaming scrap, and another part of the upper floors seemed to have collapsed, with a huge hole torn in the roof above.
I could see the sniper, up on the highest floor, their long-barrelled rifle tracking the runners. I took careful aim and fired at them, but my shot was off, and struck their gun. The sniper flinched, and the rifle fell from the hands and to the ground. The follow up shots hit the floor, and I only managed to craze their arm before they disappeared behind a wall. Andermark slapped me on the back to get my attention.
"Jahan, Adat, off you go, we'll cover you," Sergeant Andermark said. The two boys nodded, then set off after Ziya and Harrot. Looking down the road I could see the first two had made it into cover. Perhaps there was a chance after all.
"Ok, lad, look up there, see that gun? That's that damn missile turret. We're going to take it out, but I need you to cover me," Andermark said, unholstering his plasma pistol. The gun shone with furious energy, and I could feel the warmth seeping off its exposed plasma coils from here. The air seemed to hiss on contact with the gun. Andermark crouched on the corner of the rubble, raised his gun, eyeing the turret. Every time someone saw him, I'd fire my gun their way to keep them down. I don't know many I killed, if any, as they all dropped before I could tell if they were dead or not. Andermark nodded.
"Got it," he said. The plasma pistol whined in his hands. There was an electronic hiss as the shot charged up in his hands. There was a sound, like an electric drill set to full power, and then a sudden, brilliant flash. It was like a lightning strike. The air screamed as a torrent of plasma, as bright and hot as the sun, was unleashed from the gun. The burst of superheated energy flew through the air in the blink of an eye and tore through the missile turret like it wasn't even there. It kept going, through the turret and out the other side, right through the wall behind it and into the sky beyond, before sizzling out.
The turret exploded, the missiles cooked by the plasma, and the entire floor went up in flames. The explosion decimated the upper levels of the ruin and caused the floors above it to collapse. The rebels screamed in pain as they were burnt alive, set alight by a rolling cloud of flame, an expanding fireball that hungrily consumed everything in its path. The concrete buckled and collapsed, and the upper levels of the former mall toppled down. The rebels manning the heavy bolter turret bellowed in panic as the floor fell out from under them, and several of them were crushed by falling masonry. The sound of the collapsing building was deafening, and the cries of pain and death were horrifying. The huge plume of smoke and flame that went up as it toppled down shrouded the rest of the ruins, as the wind carried the smoke towards us.
"That's our chance, go, now!" Sergeant Andermark said, holding his laspistol in one hand and plasma pistol in the other. With one shot, he'd taken out two turrets, toppled at least three stories of floors, and crushed dozens of rebels in the ensuing collapse. That was one well placed plasma shot. Concealed by the smoke, we dashed down the street and into the cover held by the surviving squads. Andermark threw another grenade into the ruins, and there was a loud bang as it went off. It was impossible to tell if he hit anything or not.
"That was your shot, eh?" One of the Cadian sergeants said, when he saw Andermark and I approach. The sergeant nodded.
"Damn fine work," another said, and I recognised his voice. Portford, I believe it was. He was a rather portly looking man, who I think I'd seen around before when we did our training. He didn't look like the usual athletic Cadian's, but clearly he was just as good as the rest of them if he was here.
"We need to drive them out of here," Andermark said, not bothering to take the praise, he ordered his squad forwards to take up firing spots. A grenade went off nearby, and part of the walls collapsed. We were safe here, but barely. The enemy had been distracted by the sudden collapse of part of the ruins, but they were already retaliating. Following the rest of Andermark's squad, I was called to the side by a familiar voice.
"Sent, Sent, he's alive, everyone!" Prassus said, waving me over to where the squad had taken up a position, in a ruin, crumbled stairwell that at one point led to an underground level, or at used to. Now it was filled with huge slabs of concrete and bricks. At least here we were concealed from the enemy.
"Ha, I knew it!" Egeers said, smiling. Prassus seemed over the moon, and all but hugged me when he saw me, even though we couldn't have been split up for more then a few minutes at most. Crouching down with the rest of them, I did a quick headcount. There were seven of us. Good. That meant no one else had died.
"Where's Burtrus? Where's the sergeant?" Egeers said, still smiling. I barely had it in me to tell them, but I knew I had to.
"They…didn't make it. Neither did Desmond."
There was a deafening silence. They all paused and looked at me. Their faces were blank, uncomprehending, as if they didn't hear me.
"What did you say?" Evet said. Her voice sounded fragile. "He's…he's not, is he? No, he's not, you didn't see it, you don't know, do you?"
I didn't need to ask who 'he' was. I knew who she meant.
"Tell me…tell me he isn't gone," Temond said, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck. "Tell me he isn't gone!"
"Hey, hey, hey, get down," Prassus said, trying to pry Temond off me, but Temond wasn't listening.
"Why didn't you do something…you could've done something…why didn't you save him!" Temond screamed, face twisted in anger. Prassus hauled him off and shoved him to the ground.
"Sent didn't kill him, THEY DID!" Prassus roared, pointing in the direction of the rebels. "You want to kill them, not HIM!"
"He can't be…he can't be…" Evet was muttering over and over, shaking her head. Temond roared, slamming himself into the stairwell wall and pounding it over and over with his fists.
"ARRRGGGGHHH!" He screamed, a horrible, gut wrenching scream, the scream of a man whose lost his best friend, his companion since childhood. Temond clenched his fists and steadied himself before a sergeant came over to tell him to shut up.
"HOW…how did it happen?" He asked softly.
"He died a heroes death. He took down many before he fell," I lied. They didn't need to know he was torn apart before he could even make a difference, or that he died without having the chance to say any last words. They didn't need to know how sudden and violent it was. They just needed to be told something that'd keep them going. Burtrus died a hero. That's what mattered.
"Huh. That's how he would go out," Temond said, accepting it without question. No one else seemed to dare ask again. None of them even looked me in the eye, as if they were afraid the truth, whatever it may be, would slip out, and that the fantasy of Burtrus' noble demise would be spoiled. They may suspect it was a lie, some may even know it was a lie…but they didn't care. The lie was better then the truth. They felt the lie did better justice to him than the truth…so the lie was real. It was real, because they couldn't accept a world where it wasn't.
"EVERYONE, WE'RE GOING TO DRIVE THEM OUT!" Andermark shouted from his spot above us.
I still had no idea what a Cadian push was, but I sensed I was about to find out. I could hear the rebels regrouping as the smoke cloud thinned out. The gunfire, which had temporarily abated, was picking up again.
"Men, grenades!" A sergeant yelled. Andermark ordered everyone else to hold. There was a temporary lull, and then, with perfectly synchronised coordination, a cluster of grenades was thrown over us and into the ruins. They went off in quick succession, and there was a sudden eruption of screams and yells from the rebels.
"Next squad, go!" Andermark yelled, and then another handful of grenades were thrown. At the same time, the Cadians rose, like a tidal wave of green camo, and charged forward, hot on the heels of the grenades. The explosions went off, and the Cadian's surged through the smoky haze kicked by the blasts. Andermark urged everyone forward. Rising up, the squad let loose a deafening yell, fuelled by the deaths of our friends, our allies, our brothers and sisters in arms. Charging forward, covered by a volley of grenades thrown by the Cadians, we swept forward in a blitz of lasfire, exploiting the ragged holes torn in the rebels positions by the concentrated use of explosives. Prassus aimed his launcher up at one of the few remaining turrets, finally able to get a good angle on it, and shot off two grenades. The turret went up in flames. I saw Andermark dive over a wall, firing both pistols at once. His laspistol took town a charging rebel, his plasma pistol ripped open a makeshift bunker, tearing through a hastily erected concrete barricade and roasting the men inside alive.
Sergeant Portford ran forward, surprisingly swift for a man his size. He had a chainsword held in a two handed grip, and decapitated a fleeing rebel with one swing. The rebels rallied on the upper levels, and began firing back. The Cadians, still sprinting, threw another volley of grenades up at them, and brought the upper floors down with their combined explosive might, gunning down or bayoneting anyone who survived both the blast and the fall.
I ran with the rest of the squad, firing my gun at any hint of grey and black camo. I even shot at rebels I knew for sure were dead, just to make sure. I wanted to make sure they'd never draw another breath. Temond roared, shooting wildly at a gaggle of fleeing rebels, cutting them down where they stood. With our renewed strength, and bolstered by the explosive bombardment from the coordinated grenade throws, we surged across the ruins, pushing back at the rebels with a concentrated offensive for the first time. Weakened by a combination of Andermarks plasma pistol, and what special weapons we had on hand, like Prassus's grenade launcher, and a flamer in one of the Cadian squads, we swept over the ruins and wrought our bloody revenge on the rebels. What had initially seemed like an impassable obstacle suddenly became an even fight, and then, a slaughter. Once the Cadian's had mustered enough strength to push forward, their assault was seemingly unstoppable.
Their accuracy was unbelievable, their coordination and teamwork flawless. Whenever any rebel popped out of cover, the Cadian's would gun them down in a heartbeat. They bounded between cover, moving from wall to wall, shop to shop, room to room in rapid leaps and bounds, sweeping the mall clean bit by bit, the Practicans in tow. The rebels were commendable, they never broke, only fell back to regroup. They would rally where they could and fire back before peeling away as the Cadian's advance, managing to injure or kill one or two men in each small skirmish, but the Cadian's never stopped. Even ones that were injured, shot in the arm, or leg, or even chest, hauled themselves forward, grunting in pain, still firing away. Under such forceful attack, the rebels had little recourse. They may have had the element of surprise and been well prepared, but once the Cadian's reformed, there was precious little they could do. They were cut down, torn apart, shredded under the weight of the Cadian Shock.
Suddenly, all that talk about the Cadian's being the best of the best made sense. They were like a machine, a living machine of war. A fearless, unflinching engine of destruction. With only a mere handful of squads they'd swept aside the enemy resistance in a matter of minutes. The few remaining rebels never surrendered, and kept fighting to the last. The Cadian's seemed to respect that, granted them swift deaths to honour their foes.
A little over fourteen minutes since the battle had begun, it was all over. The ruins were cleared. There were no rebels left, and the mall was ours. The Cadian's kept advancing, securing lines of sight along the roads, setting themselves up in the best positions, looting ammo where they could, turning around whatever turrets still worked to face the other way, as if they would be attacked at any moment. For all we knew, we would be.
Just like that, my first battle was over.
I'd made it.