Chapter 26


Bloody Platoon dashed down the snowy roads, racing between the rugged, interlocking Aegis Defense Lines. Guardsmen from 1333rd and other regiments poured out of every building, becoming a torrent flowing towards the garrison. They parted only to allow vehicles to pass by. Leman Russ Main Battle Tanks escorted Chimera APCs towards the outer defenses, their troop bays packed with soldiers. Hydra Flak Tanks followed, their barrels training skywards. Commissars jumped on top of the barricades, barking orders and directing troop movements with their swords. Preachers also appeared, booming incantations, reciting prayers of protection and strength, and casting sacred oils onto the helmets of the Cadians who ran by them. So many NCOs, officers, Commissars, preachers, and enlisted men were shouting it was nearly impossible to make out an order.

All around were the deep, bellowing explosions of aerial bombs. Dodging flak, demented aircraft stormed through the Kasr's Void Shield barrier and began dropping ordnance. They were slim, possessed extended prows, and ably flew above the streets and between Kasr Sonnen's spires. They were Hell Blades, nimble interceptors and attack craft. Autocannon shells ripped into buildings and along the streets. Dozens upon dozens of troops fell, dead or wounded. Men without arms or legs staggered and screamed. There was blood on the snow.

In their wake came the Hell Talons, heavier ground attack craft with the same extended prow port and starboard of the fuselage. Missiles shot through the air, striking Bastions, bunkers, and convoys. Chimeras burst into flames, turrets were torn off, and entire platoons disappeared. Huge chunks of rockcrete were sheared from the faces of buildings, crashing onto the ground in clouds of gray dust. Many were crushed beneath them.

Hydra Platforms across the Kasr lit up the night with flak. Red and yellow tracers tore into the streams of Talons and Blades. Some burst into flames and spiraled into the Kasr below, smashing against armor plating which protected many structures. Others exploded in midair and soon the sky was filled with blossoming orange flames. The quad-batteries of Icarus-pattern Lascannons, mounted on the top of Firestorm Redoubts, trained their barrels skywards. Soon, blue, red, and golden lasers followed thousands of tracer rounds and cannon shells.

Suddenly, there were the familiar engines of Imperial aircraft. Formations of Lightning Strike Fighters and Thunderbolts descended on the enemy. After their initial salvo, there were hundreds of individual duels in the air. Planes twirled and spun around, each one locked in a brutal dance with his opponent.

It seemed as though Imperial might was carrying the fight. The bombardment from so many enemy aircraft was beginning to subside. Like swarms of flies, the warriors of the Aeronautica Imperialis filled the sky with their attack craft. Their formations attacked the Talons and Blades from both sides, above, and below, sweeping gracefully along. What they missed, the Hydras targeted, their Autocannons belching and bellowing hundreds of shells skyward. Black clouds appeared in the sky, lit up by so many tracers, searchlights, and flares. Lasers sliced aircraft apart, the pieces tumbling almost lazily through the air.

Marsh Silas's M36C was slung over his shoulder, he clutched the carry handle of his pack in his left hand and his helmet in the right. Everybody pounded along, leather boots thudding on the pavement. Even though they couldn't understand the orders being hollered at them, they knew what to do. So, they ran and ran, their shoulders hunched and heads low as if the terrible bombardment was rain.

Bloody Platoon surged through the baily gate but were stopped by a major. The senior officer grabbed Hyram by the collar of his Flak Armor.

"Lieutenant, I need your men on the ramparts! I need bodies on those guns!"

"You heard him, Bloody Platoon, up top!"

The men stampeded up the stairs, the necessity of the situation forward in their minds. When he hit the landing, Marsh Silas turned around and waved his arm.

"Move it, move it, get your asses up there!" He clapped each one on the back as they passed him. "Come on, come on, there are Cadians dying up there!"

The last two up the stairs were Drummer Boy and Valens. Marsh stamped his hand on the regimental-picter's chestplate. "I pray you're not going up there to record it all, Valens!"

"I aim to fight, Staff Sergeant!" he said, doing his best to sound brave.

"Then you're with me!"

Together, they raced up the stairs until they were atop the bailey walls. The scene was chaotic; Sabre Gun Platforms were knocked out of action, the guns melted, bent, and twisted. Bombs had blasted away parts of the ramparts and bastion walls. Spent shell casings littered the rockcrete flooring and sat in puddles of blood. Bodies were everywhere, some blackened from burns, others torn apart by cluster bombs. Their bones were exposed, skulls were halved, eyeballs had been blown out of their sockets. Many were simply cut down by cannon shells, bullets, and lasbolts. Blood splattered the walls and lay in puddles in such close proximity there seemed to be a layer of crimson along the rockcrete. Among this sea of blood were bones, bits of flesh, and severed limbs; an arm, a leg, or a foot.

Marsh Silas spotted an unmanned Sabre composed of twin-linked Autocannons. He ran to the gun and reached for the firing mechanism. To his horror, he found two white hands still gripping the charging handles. What little bone remained jutted out from the ripped flesh below the palms. Fresh blood continued to drip and seem from them.

Despite all the terrible things he witnessed in his soldier's life, it came as a shock. The excitement of the run, the cacophony all around him, and this grisly sight were too much. Briefly, he keeled to the side and vomited up his dinner. But he spit and pried the hands off, finger by finger, from the gun. "Valens, tell me where I'm shooting!" he ordered, handing him his magnoculars. Valens stood beside him and looked up at the sky.

"Target, twelve o'clock high!"

Marsh trained the sights upwards. A Hell Blade came shrieking through the sky, preparing to descend on the garrison. He led the target as best he could and squeezed the triggers. The Autocannons thundered away, the bright shells arcing into the air in parallel lines. The Hell Blade broke off its approach, rolling to avoid the fire and escape unharmed.

He felt three taps on the back of his helmet; it was a signal to turn the weapon right. "Incoming, three o'clock, low!"

A Hell Talon was speeding directly towards them. Gritting his teeth, Marsh lined up the sights and fired again. The recoil was tremendous, traveling up the length of his arms, resonating in his shoulders, and shooting down his back. His entire body shook and it felt like the muscles in arms would go numb. Closer and closer, the Hell Talon approach, practically a red-brown blur in the glow of so many searchlights.

There was a spark on the fuselage and another on the prow. Black smoke flowed from the heretical aircraft, then there was a burst of flame followed by an explosion. Both prows broke away from the fireball. Marsh Silas and Valens gave a cheer.

"Give me more traitors to kill, Valens!"

Two taps on shook helmet.

"Enemy fighters at nine o'clock, high!"

Marsh swiveled the Sabre and leaned back. Three Hell Blades swarmed through black, white, red, and mustard yellow clouds of flak. They banked gracefully towards the garrison on a strafing run. He hit the triggers and downed the leading aircraft, which veered into a nearby by Bastion. It smashed against the heavy armor plating, leaving huge scorch marks and a massive dent. Hydra Platforms and Sabre turrets unleashed on the formation. One of the Hell Blades took a direct hit from Hydria-pattern Autocannons and split into pieces. When the third attempted to pull off from its attack, a Lightning fighter swept in behind it and knocked it out with a burst of its guns.

"Incooooming!"

Shells blasted the ramparts and Guardsmen dove for cover. Marsh ducked behind the gun and pulled his helmet low over his brow. After the barrage, he stood up to see many angry Guardsmen firing up at the egressing enemy aircraft with their small arms. Even soldiers armed only with laspistols or autopistols were firing after it.

"It's coming around for another run!" Valens cried.

"Marsh Silas, take that son of a bitch down!" shouted Captain Giles, who had just joined the defenders on the wall.

He dug in his heels and fired. Just as he did, the Hell Blade opened firing again. Marsh could see the shells slamming down onto the ramparts, drawing closer and closer. Guardsmen ran every which way, stood their ground and shot back, or were blasted to pieces. Shells skimmed off the prows and the enemy aircraft began smoking, but it did not break off its attack run.

Marsh turned the Sabre around just as the Hell Blade came in for a third strafing run. "Kill him, Marsh Silas! Kill him!"

The Autocannons hammered away and Marsh found himself roaring at the Hell Blade. It targeted a Hydra Platform, killing the operators, knocking out one of the barrels, and starting a fire. Just then, the platoon sergeant found his mark and flames erupted on the fuselage. It spun out of control and crashed into the road below.

"My guns are dry!" Marsh cried. He tried to find an ammo-bearer but they were all occupied or dead. Just as he went to fetch the drums himself, he saw the fire at the destroyed Hydra Platform to his right beginning to spread. Captain Giles, Lieutenant-Precept Eastoft, and Lieutenant Hyram were hastily tossing ammunition away from the site.

By the time his mind registered his actions, he was already vaulting over the sandbag wall.

"If the ammunition explodes, we'll lose this entire section of wall!" Hyram shouted. "For the Emperor's sake, heave this over the side! Everyone pitch in!"

Dozens of Hydra-pattern Autocannon shell crates were dumped onto the grounds below or were thrown away from the flames. The flames crackled and hissed, growing louder and wider. Acrid black smoke swirled and roiled around them like a cyclone, choking the men's throats and causing them to hack. Men came away with blisters and heat rashes on their hands, forearms, and faces while others received bad burns.

Sweated rolled in beads down Marsh's faces, cutting clear paths through the layer of black dust covering his face. All around him was a blur, orange flames and dark smoke blending with olive drab Flak Armor and khaki fatigues. Dirty faces were indistinguishable, officers and enlisted men looked alike. Nobody could tell from what company or regiment a Guardsman hailed from. Cadians from countless Shock Trooper and Interior Guard units were all mixed up. Yet they worked together, every single man and woman giving their all.

"In-com-iiiiiing!"

Marsh looked up. The nighttime sky was a mirth of orange and black, lit up by the tracers, flak, flares, and searchlights. A Hell Talon hurtled towards the garrison, firing missiles and lobbing incendiary bombs onto Kasr Sonnen. He dove for cover behind the sandbags, curled into a ball, and covered his head. All of Cadia seemed to shake and the concussions rocked him so badly he felt blood leaking from his nose. Then, all faded to black.

When Marsh managed to come to, his eyelids fluttering as if he had awoken from a deep sleep, he felt incredibly hot. He looked up and his uniform was catching fire. Just as he was about to scream, Drummer Boy mantled over the sandbags with a blanket. He practically dived on top of Marsh Silas, stamping and putting out the flames. Valens and Lieutenant Eastoft joined in as well.

"Put him out, put him out!" the executive officer ordered. As smoke rose from the extinguished flames, she grabbed Marsh Silas by the chin strap of his helmet. Several times, he tried to sit up to help or see the extent of fire damage to his person, but Eastoft kept shoving him back down. "Calm down! You're alright now!"

"Water," Marsh croaked.

Drummer Boy hastily handed him a canteen. Marsh took only one slug and it was a mistake. It washed down all the ash and soot that had gathered in his mouth. The taste was terrible and make him cough so hard his chest grew sore. And he felt so dreadfully hot! Undoing his chin strap, he pushed his helmet off his head and dumped some of the water into his hair. Again, it was a mistake. It washed down his forehead, forcing smoke soot into his eyes. It stung very badly; it was as if someone blew granulated rust into his eyes.

Groaning, he wiped his eyes on the back of his gloves and blinked constantly. Tears stung his eyes. "Fuck!" he hollered. "Bitch, son of a bitch!"

Eastoft slapped him.

"Knock that off," she ordered. "Act like a Shock Trooper!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Marsh groaned through gritted teeth.

When he could finally open his eyes again, he looked right up at the sky. Behind the snow clouds were bright orange glows. One by one, they began to break through the cloud barrier. At first, they looked like meteorites. But as they drew closer, they took new shape: they were angular and cone-shaped, the cylindrical bottoms were wide, and the slimmer tops contained the flaming engine unit. All four sides were covered with spikes and metal bolts. At each corner was a huge claw which was that was nearly twice the length of the main body.

"Dreadclaw assault boats!" Captain Giles yelled, pointing skyward. "Open fire!" Immediately, soldiers jumped back on the Sabre Platforms and filled the air with shells. Walmsley Major, Walmsley Minor, Albert, and Brownlow mounted their Heavy Bolters onto the walls of the ramparts and sat down to point them skywards. Even Sudworth and Lowe mounted their Autocannon.

Eastoft observed the sky momentarily before putting Marsh's helmet back on his head. She clipped his chinstrap and pointed in his face.

"Can you still fight, Staff Sergeant!?" she asked, her eyes flush with burning determination.

"Aye, ma'am!"

The executive officer stood upand extended her hand.

"Then get back on your feet, Shock Trooper!"

Marsh snatched her hand and he was pulled to his feet. He jogged back to the Sabre Platform he was operating before. Olhouser and Snyder were loading fresh drums onto the Autocannons. As Marsh Silas took hold of the triggers again, both men hit him on the shoulders.

"You're good to go, Staff Sergeant!"

"Valens!?"

"Elven o'clock, very high!"

Marsh opened fired on one of the assault boats. There were dozens upon dozens of them, their descent slowing as they neared Cadia's surface. As the aerial fighting raged all around, they dropped steadily, as if undisturbed by the tremendous rates of anti-aircraft fire rising from Kasr Sonnen. So many automated and crew-operated weapons systems were firing from all over the Kasr it seemed like the entire city was on fire.

He led the target, predicting the Dreadclaw's descent. Even from this distance, Marsh Silas could see the shells hitting the hull, making little white flashes of light on the wretched metal. It seemed like his attack was making no impact. But then another platform in another section of the city fired on the assault boat, and then another, and another, and finally a Hydra Platform opened up on it. Streams of shells and clouds of flak bombarded the Dreadclaw. Shards of metal were stripped away from the hull, pieces of landing claws began to break away, flames appeared all over it. Then, it exploded in a cloud of orange and purple flame.

Marsh's smile spread from ear to ear and he pumped his fist into the air.

"Keeping firing, son!" Giles yelled, appearing on his left. "There's plenty more a-coming!"

Valens called out another target and soon Marsh was shooting again. The sky was alight with exploding Dreadclaws. But the storm of assault boats continued with dozens more breaking through the cloud barrier. Those that survived the initial onslaught of Imperial fire was so closer Marsh could see the Stars of Chaos etched into the side of the evil craft.

After he helped destroyed two more, Marsh tried to hit one that was getting closer. It was heading right for a Bastion tower that was down the road for the soldier's inn Bloody Platoon had been occupying. Even with so many batteries firing on it, it was too late. The claws extended and tore into the top of the Bastion. Huge, hulking forms exited from the bottom and the Lascannon crew on the top were thrown over the sides.

More Dreadclaws landed on the tops of buildings, disgorging their cargos of Traitor Marines into the heart of Kasr Sonnen. Bolt-shell tracers flew over the rooftops, towers and spires began to rock with internal explosions, and the invasion forces began to spread out. From his perch on the wall, Marsh Silas could see hulking forms moving swiftly across the rooftops. Squads of Traitor Marines took cover, pinned down the crews of Hydra Platforms with superior firepower, and then assaulted the positions with grenades. Charges were laid and the weapon systems was destroyed.

One by one, lines of Sabre and Hydra Platforms were knocked out. Entire platoons of Guardsmen appeared on the rooftops, their lasbolts lighting up the rockcrete. Others moved into buildings from below, attempting to create human bulwarks. Voices filled Marsh's micro-bead and emanated from Drummer Boy's Vox-caster. There were pleas for reinforcements, terrified reports of advancing enemies, and the shrieks of dying Voxmen.

Explosions rippled up a tremendous spire a few kilometers away and moments later it collapsed. Huge chunks of rockcrete and steel timbers fell in a shower of dust, creating an enormous cloud that engulfed the Kasr blocks around it. Vehicles and men disappeared in it. Even minutes later, amid the wailing sirens and barking guns, the cloud hadn't settled yet.

"Here they come!"

Several Dreadclaws descended on the interior baileys of the garrisons. Men loaded fresh charge packs into their M36's and fixed bayonets. But one could see the fear mounting in their violet and purple eyes. These were not the mere heretics and traitors they were used to fighting. Falling from the heavens were the elite of the Archenemy's foul hordes. Their images, their prowess on the battlefield, their efficient and ruthless lethality, were all seared into the memories of every single soldier who fought them before. Even Marsh Silas could remember fighting off a Warband for the first time; there were huge, hulking, armored forms that moved as nimble as a cat, their silhouettes moving between great bands of fire like shadows upon a wall. One could never draw close to them or even set eyes on them. Their Bolts laced out from darkness, striking men down and blowing them into ribbons of scarlet flesh. Those poor souls died without even knowing what hit them.

Panting heavily, he reached into his tunic and produced his Aquilas. He kissed them both and squeezed them between his gloved hands.

"Emperor I am one of Your faithful servants and I shall do Your bidding this night. I ask in humble return for Your everlasting protection against all evils. Know that in me you have a loyal son, a son who asks for his Creator's, his Father's, protection." He kissed them again and tucked them away. Many Shock Troopers bowed their heads and uttered similar prayers, making signs of the Aquila and rubbing their prayer beads in their palms.

The Dreadclaws slowed down, seemingly hovering above the ground. As heavy weapons poured fire against the hulls, rockets and missiles striking them by turn, each monster began to extend its legs.

"Rouse yourself, you men of Cadia!"

It was Carstensen. Proudly, she stood with one leg up on the rampart barrier. She lacked her cap and her Power Fist was radiating with blue-white energy. Smiling confidently, she looked over her shoulder. "This night is an opportunity for all to prove their mettle to the Emperor! Stand fast, stand firm!"

"Give everything you have!" Commissar Ghent called, pacing along the wall. "For Cadia! For the Imperium! For the Emperor! So few are offered the chance of a glorious death in battle! So few are extended the chance to take part in such a momentous effort! The garrison must hold or Kasr Sonnen will fall!"

"That's not happening on our watch, Commissar!" Lieutenant Hyram screamed. Bloody Platoon and many of the other Guardsmen with them cheered.

"Come on men, we've killed one o' their ilk before!" Marsh Silas added. "By the Emperor, let's do it again! Set your M36's to max charge!"

Bloody Platoon lined the rail and took aim. Three Dreadclaws landed in the compound and opened up. A squad of Traitor Marines marched out of each one, clad in silver-gray armor with gold trimming. They carried ghastly black Bolters with the same yellow-black pattern along the barrels that the Warpsmith Drusus wore on his own armor. On their pauldrons were the same, elongated pale skull emblems.

Every single gun in the garrison opened up on them. Guardsmen on the ground concentrated on single targets. Individual M36's couldn't penetrate their Power Armor, archaic as it was. Even ten, twenty, or even thirty lasguns wouldn't cause extensive damage.

The Traitor Marines marched through the intense lasgun fire, unperturbed by the lasbolts striking them. One squad ran towards the motor pool, killing the sentries taking cover among armored vehicles that hadn't been manned or fueled yet. One of the Traitors crushed a wounded Guardsman underfoot, clambered on top of a Leman Russ MBT, tore off the hatch, and chucked a grenade inside. Others methodically tore through other vehicles, dropping grenades through hatches, open doors, and firing ports. Countless Imperial war machines caught fire and exploded.

Another of the enemy squads charged a heavy weapons position. The Heavy Bolter teamed focused on one of the Traitor Marines and a concentrated stream of fire tore through his Power Armor. It cleaved off the arm holding his gnarly Bolter and then punched a hole into his torso. But the other nine Marines overran the position, slaughtered the gunners with a few shots, and then took the Heavy Bolter. One of them marched back towards a concentration of Guardsmen in sandbag positions in front of the compound's CP and pinned them down.

Hyram stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled.

"Knaggs, Fletcher! Launcher up, Krak Missiles! Fleming, Caferro, Krak Grenades! Fire when ready!"

The two men moved their Missile Launcher up and loaded the tube while Fleming and Caferro reloaded the rotary magazines of the launchers. Fletcher hit Knaggs on the back of his helmet and the latter fired. With a massive fwoom the missile soared through the air and struck the Traitor Marine wielding the capturing heavy weapon. It blew off his forearms and tore a chunk out of his chestplate. Grenadiers Caferro and Fleming then bombarded the enemy squads with the anti-armor grenades. A few direct hits destroyed weapons and severed hands and arms. It was enough to force the Traitors to seek nearby cover, sparing the Guardsmen defending the CP.

All along the walls, Shock Troopers fired down at the Traitor Marines. As more heavy weapons were concentrated on them, they became less mobile and pinned down. One by one, they were picked off by Autocannons, missiles, grenades, and Heavy Bolter fire. Storms of glittering lasbolts streaked across their armor, showering them with sparks. But before they were finally defeated, one of the Chaos Marines lobbed a grenade into a fuel store. Dozens of fuel drums detonated and a fiery mushroom cloud rose above the bailey.

Through the flames, more Dreadclaws descended. More enemy warriors surged through the compound, tearing through platoons of stalwart Cadians who attacked with lasguns, grenades, and bayonets. As sharp as their steel was, it couldn't penetrate the Traitors' defiled, ghastly Power Armor.

Then, the enemy turned their Bolters on Marsh Silas and Bloody Platoon, poised above the bailey. Bolts hammered the rockcrete barricade, spraying dust and chunks all over the crouching Guardsmen. When Marsh Silas finally had enough courage to look over the side again, he could see them storming the fortress walls.

"They're coming in!" he called.

"If it comes to close quarters, we're doomed!"

"We need to fall back!" someone yelled. Several Interior Guardsmen leaped to their feet and began leaving the position. Ghent leveled his Bolt Pistol and shot all three down, the shells splitting their backs and severing limbs. Enraged, the Commissar whirled around, his violet eyes alight.

"Any man who flees in this hour shall be shot!" Ghent shouted, pointing his weapon at some other Interior Guardsmen. He then motioned towards the Whiteshields Clivvy, Tattersall, and Rowely. "Look at yourselves!" he screamed at the Interior Guardsmen. "Running like frightened children while the young ones stand! Call yourselves Cadians!? Take up your arms this instant or face summary execution!"

As they found their weapons, Giles ran down the ramparts.

"Stand firm!" Captain Giles shouted. "Grenadiers, to me! Marsh Silas, you Whiteshields, with me! Walmsley Major, move your squad to this position behind me! Be ready to move if necessary."

The Company Commander led them to the stairwell that led up to their position. "Krak Grenades," he ordered. Marsh and his three pupils each equipped one of the heavy grenades and slid a finger through the pin. "Wait for my command," Giles said calmly.

Marsh Silas heard shooting and screaming within. There were the rapid zap-zot-zap-zot's of lasbolts as well as the steady bang-bang-bang of Bolters being fired semi-automatically. Grenade detonations rocked the floors beneath them. And there was the steady stomp-stomp-stop of Power Armor boots.

His jaw set, teeth clenched, and hands quivering, Marsh waited and waited. Giles patted the platoon sergeant's shoulder plate. "Hold on, Guardsmen. Be brave, be steady," he said to everyone. Then, with a kind smile, he looked at Marsh again. "When is the Emperor with us?"

"Always, sir," Marsh breathed. Giles nodded.

Stomp-stomp-stomp-stomp!

A hulking gray form appeared around the corner. "Now!" Half a dozen grenade launchers went off at once. Shells exploded at the bottom of the staircase, filling it with dust. "Grenades!"

Marsh yanked the pin, released the handle, and lobbed it below. The grenades went off, creating brief flashes in the mist. When it finally settled, one Traitor Marine corpse lay on the floor and another was propped up on the stairs.

Suddenly, a smoke grenade went off. A storm of Bolt-shells flew through it. Everyone ducked and dove for cover. Caferro was hit three times in the chest; his Flak Armor was ripped open, his chest was torn up, and his lungs were reduced to ribbons. By the time he hit the floor, he was dead.

Marsh scrambled away as best he could. Just as he looked over his shoulder, one of the Traitor Marines emerged. He was huge, his armor more silver than gray, the gold trim adorned with spikes large and small. His chestplate bore a massive, elongated white skull and the visor of his helm glowed blood red.

"Traitor scum!" Walmsley Major shouted. Several Heavy Bolters and Autocannons opened up on the enemy. Holes were punched through the armor, the Bolter was dented all over, and black blood leaked from open wounds. One Traitor Marine ran up behind his fallen ally, crouching behind the form as it crumpled over, and attempted to return fire. He too was picked apart by the heavy fire.

Giles waved his arm and led a party forward.

"Secure the staircase!"

Marsh jumped up, slinging his M36C back into his hands. He followed the Captain and many Guardsmen towards the staircase. When they attempted to seize the stairs back from the enemy, Traitor Marines appeared on both sides at the bottom. One of them snatched an Interior Guardsmen, held him by his head and feet, and broke his back over his knee. Then he smashed him against the wall as if he was a piece of disused parchment. Another one, wielding a Bolter with a bayonet, slammed it through the torso of another trooper. He forced it through so deeply that the barrel emerged on the other side. The Traitor then fired several Bolt-shells, cutting down the entire first rank of troopers. Heads, arms, legs, and organs tumbled and rolled down the stairs.

Everyone fell back. Both hostile Marines came up at the same time, the body of the Guardsmen still mounted on the front of the latter's Bolter. As he emerged, he dug his armored fingers into his skull and tore the body off. Once again, the heavy weapons fire drove them back. The former fell back while the latter's legs were blown out. When he tried to pick his weapon back up, a streak of Heavy Bolter fire tore away at his exposed shoulder joint and nearly ripped it off.

Brave Sergeant Cuyper led Third Squad against the wounded Traitor. Using the butt of his M36, he knocked the enemy Marine's helmet off. Exposed was gray skin, like that of a decaying corpse. Meanwhile, Corporal Second Class Hahn roared and jammed his bayonet into the Traitor Marine's skull. The monster's roiling, purple eyes bulged and then seemed to lose their light.

Below, the firefight in the bailey intensified. Marsh Silas, Hyram, and Carstensen ran over to the barricade and looked over. More of the Archenemy's ilk had landed and were taking ground in the compound. More Guardsmen were coming out from every hatch, door, and tunnel all over the courtyard. But the corpses were piling up and the Traitor Marines were utilizing the wreckage of destroyed vehicles to gain a foothold.

"Captain, we need to clear the courtyard if the garrison is to hold!" Hyram called.

"Guardsmen, with me! We're going for the stairs again!"

But more were shot down the moment they tried to descend. Everyone took cover, blind-fired over the railing, and dropped fragmentation grenades. The Traitor Marines responded with a hail of Bolt-shells.

Prone on the ground with his shoulder pressed against a sandbag wall adjacent to the stairwell, Marsh Silas waited for the enemy to come forward again. Arnold Yoxall slid in behind him, clearing a malfunctioning charge pack from his M36.

"We're stuck here as much as they are and we're running out of ammunition." He looked up again. "We need to get below if we're to replenish our stores."

"We need to get there alive and we ain't gonna make it if we rush on in," Marsh said.

The conversation was broken by a bellowing voice from below.

"Iron Within, Iron Without!" a Traitor roared. Then the others joined in, the chant growing louder and louder.

"Iron Within, Iron Without!

Iron Within, Iron Without!

Iron Within, Iron Without!"

"Emperor preserve us," Marsh whispered. He faced Yoxall who was busily unpacking his rucksack. "This isn't the time to be goin' through your things!"

"I have an idea!" the demolition expert exclaimed. He took out one of his pre-made shaped charges and ran behind the stairwell. Then, he waved his hands, ordering everyone to back up. Once they had gained cover, he planted the charge on the ground, raced back to Silas, and pulled out the detonator. "Loud noises, people, cover your ears!" he called and hit the switch.

There was an eruption of gray rockcrete dust followed by a crumbling sound. When the dust cleared, a gaping hole was left in the ramparts. Marsh Silas and dozens of Guardsmen ran up with the last of their Krak grenades. Below, chunks of rockcrete had fallen on the Traitor Marines and their position was in disarray. Nearly two dozen grenades were dropped through the hole and the detonations seemed to shake the entire section of wall. The Bolter fire which momentarily drove them off ceased.

Marsh was going back to inspect when cracks appeared in the rockcrete. He tried to jump back but lost his footing. As he scrambled back, more of the flooring gave way and he slid down through the hole. Clang! The platoon sergeant landed on something metal and hard. Blinking, he picked himself up and found himself staring right into the visor of a one-armed Traitor Marine.

Before he could roll off, the Marine's massive gauntlet snatched Marsh Silas by his webbing. Groaning and grunting, he tried to pull away while the Marine attempted to stand. He seemed undeterred by his missing arm even as blood seeped from his exposed shoulders and the exposed tendons trembled.

Marsh kicked his legs up and drew his trench knife from his boot. Seeing just a hint of exposed flesh at the base of the Traitor Marine's neck, he jabbed the knife into the muscle. But the Marine did not react and slammed Marsh against the wall. It knocked the wind out of him and it felt like his entire chest was broken. Still clinging to the knife with his left hand, he reached for the holster on his chest and practically tore the Ripper Pistol out of it. He pressed the barrel to the Traitor's helmet head and fired. But even the armor-piercing ammunition of his sidearm couldn't break through the Power Armor.

That's when Yoxall jumped onto the Marine's back and tried to pull his helmet off. Shaking like a dog drying its fur, the Marine threw him off. But Honeycutt and Walcott followed, each of them struggling to pry it off. Walcott fell too but Honeycutt clung on, pawing the helmet. Just as it seemed he couldn't hang on any longer, he yanked the helmet off as he fell. Marsh looked right into the beast's fiery eyes, pressed the barrel against his forehead, and squeezed the trigger. Several rounds tore through his skull and the Marine dropped.

Falling onto the floor, Marsh caught his breath and managed to get onto his knees. Looking at his three comrades, he could only nod. He retrieved his knife, cleaning the putrid blood from it with sacred oil and cloth.

"Clear!" Honeycutt shouted up to the troops above. Giles led them down, giving orders as he jogged by.

"Eastoft, organize our heavy weapons squads along the ramparts and engage the Traitor Marines in the courtyard. Sergeant Stainthorpe, front and center! Form an assault section with every single man armed with a Plasma Gun. I want you to sweep through the base on our right, clearing it of any invaders as you move. Flank the enemy in the courtyard and come out through the motor pool. The rest of First Company and you other Guardsmen, you're with me!"

Marsh, still catching his breath, waited for a chance to fall in line. Hyram walked by him and extended his fist. The platoon sergeant met it with his own and nodded. Carstensen was right behind him, reaching out and taking Marsh Silas by the cheek. They didn't need to speak. Relief flooded her eyes and she smiled thankfully upon seeing him. All he wanted to do was hold her right there and then. Although he was smiling, his legs were shaking terribly. He didn't even want to look at the Traitor Marine that had him in his clutches.

He fell in with Mottershead and the rest of Second Squad. Foley was toting his shotgun and Logue was carrying his M36 instead of his custom autopistol. Together, they moved swiftly to the lower levels, sweeping each floor as they went. Along the way, they collected squads of survivors from the onslaught of traitors. Their force grew larger and larger and Marsh became more confident.

Giles distributed First Company along multiple doors which were closed off. Once all the platoon leaders and squad leaders confirmed they were ready, he kicked open a set of double doors.

"For Cadia!" they all screamed as they surged into the compound. Hundreds of Guardsmen filled the bailey and poured relentless volleys of lasbolts onto the Traitor Marines. In the face of such concentrated fire, the invaders took cover. Grenades hurtled through the air in response, scattering squads and peppering troopers with shrapnel. Above them, streams of Heavy Bolter fire swept the enemy positions. Autocannons slammed away at them, the force of each shell knocking a Traitor Marine back.

From the right, Stainthorpe and a platoon-sized element of Specialists appeared. Blue-white plasma flew between the rows of burning Imperial vehicles. Each blast that smashed into Power Armor tore and melted it.

Then, at the far end of the compound, a gate to an interior bailey opened. Two Leman Russ MBT's, driving in single file, fired on the Traitor Marines. Their main guns destroyed their cover and blew them to pieces. Those who weren't killed in the first salvo were cut down by their sponson-mounted Heavy Bolters. Even after the enemy was dispatched, there was a great deal of firing at the corpses.

Giles ventured forward, waving his arm.

"Area clear! The garrison is secured! Gather weapons and ammunition, Shock Troopers, we still have work to do!"


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Author's Note: Yes, on schedule! A brief note; I hope the appearance of Chaos Space Marines was appealing. I wanted to blend their barbaric nature with a sense of methodical tactics. Too often I see content that makes Chaos Space Marines act so animalistic (and I know some are) that it borders on the ridiculous. I hope this struck a decent balance but showing Traitor Marines is still a new realm for me, so feedback would be appreciated. Also, it seemed logical to me Traitor Marines would suffer from lots of dismemberments due to the fact heavy weapons/explosives are the only things Guardsmen can really stop them with.

Oh, I also don't usually do comment responses on Marsh Silas but I just wanted to address the most recent two!

Comment Responses:

Spatialyeti8: I frigging love this comment. I honestly found it really funny because it's SO TRUE. I always intended Barlocke's interest in Marsh Silas to be something we could never quite pin down. Was it just friendship or something more? I thought this really added to Barlocke's overall mysterious demeanor. So thanks man, I appreciate that.

Cameron Kelly: Hey, thanks man, it's good to be back! Thank you for remembering; the reason I ask people to comment on the last chapter is because, over the years, there's been a lot of people who ask questions or make observations without having read all available chapters. That's not innately bad, but I encourage people to only post a comment once they're caught up because the questions they have or the observations they might make might be answered in a subsequent chapter. It's basically a method I use so that I don't have to constantly go, 'Sorry I can't tell you because spoilers,' which, in itself, is pretty much a spoiler. I hope that makes sense! And hey, it's really good to have a comment from you, I really enjoyed the ones you left on I'm Alone: Exalt. Good to hear from you!