Quick Important Announcement: Hello everyone! I'm delighted to inform you that Marsh Silas I: An Inquisitor will be coming to DeviantArt in late November thanks to friend and DA user Caffinated-Pinecone. Not only is she a talented artist, she's one hell of a wonderful person. I'm immensely grateful that she accepted the commission, especially because her work is more upbeat than WH40K. But she's going to be handling covers and character art, so you'll finally be able to enjoy the story in its original format complete with illustrations! Right now, she's a few followers away from having 1,000 followers on DeviantArt. So if you could do me a favor, and as a way of saying a pre-emptive thank you, check out her page on DeviantArt, see if you like her work, and click, 'Watch.' She's one of my daily stops on DA and if you like upbeat, colorful, well-done work, you won't be disappointed! Alright, thanks everyone.

Comment responses for Spatialyeti8 and Yatagan at the end of the chapter!


Chapter 27


A brown-orange haze hung over the city. Huge columns of brown smoke billowed into the air. Enemy fighters still swarmed the skies, duking it out with aircraft of the Aeronautica Imperalis. Mortars and missiles crashed throughout Kasr Fortis. Rounds ricocheted off armor-plated buildings; some fortifications held firmly while others were destroyed by intense heretical fire. From every rooftop arced lasbolts and Bolt-shells. Heretical transport craft were landing on rooftops and in areas cleared of obstacles, disgorging hordes of Traitor Marines and their heretical followers.

At the gate of the garrison, Bloody Platoon formed up with the rest of 1st Company. The Battle Cannon turrets on either side of the outer walls were hammering away at enemy positions down the street from the base. Each time they fired, the men crouched and bowed their heads from the concussion of the heavy caliber guns. With them sat a convoy made up of three Leman Russ Main Battle Tanks, their engines rumbling. All three were equipped with track guards and supplementary armor plating. The leading Leman Russ was equipped with a dozer blade as well and its Heavy Bolter sponson armaments had been traded out for Plasma Cannons. Behind it, the second Leman Russ sported Heavy Flamers on its sponsons and searchlight on the turret.

Fourth in line was a Griffon light artillery tank. Mounted on the versatile Chimera chassis, it was rigged with an enclosed crew compartment for added defense instead of the usual open compartment design. The cylindrical barrel of a Heavy Mortar Cannon poked out of the low-profile, boxy shape on the rear of the vehicle. A tall spotting tube protruded from the top of the same compartment. Like the Leman Russ MBTs, it was equipped with extra armor plating, track guards, and a smoke launcher.

More Shock Troopers and Interior Guardsmen from multiple regiments were gathering up for the push. Fresh ammunition was brought by quartermasters carrying the magazines in helmets. Soldiers sharpened their bayonets on whetstones, grenades were clipped onto easy to reach locations along their webbing. Almost everyone had acquired a pair of orange-tinted goggles, wearing them normally or snapping them into the slot of their helmet's visor plate. There wasn't much chatter save for a squad leader checking on the status of their men from time.

Standing next to the Griffon, Marsh Silas watched Captain Giles confer with Hyram and the other platoon leaders. Other officers were present as well and a dozen Voxmen were busily monitoring the comm-links for information.

Eventually, there was a great deal of nodding and the party broke up. Giles, Eastoft, Hyram, and Drummer Boy rejoined the rest of Bloody Platoon. Captain Giles jumped on a nearby crate and swung his M36c over his shoulder.

"Listen up! Can everyone hear me? We've got orders from Regiment; we are to advance down the main road, clearing any hostile fortifications and occupied buildings along the way. 2nd Company will be using a parallel road on our left flank, 3rd Company will advance on our right. Our main objective is the eastern gate which is under siege by heathen traitors and heretics. We must not allow them to seize an entrance into the Kasr. If they do, reinforcements landing outside Kasr Sonnen will be able to walk right in! We're not about to let that happen, are we?"

"No, sir!"

Giles motioned towards the tanks.

"Use the tanks for cover and let them take out hard targets. We'll handle the infantry." He waved at the tank commander standing in the turret of the leading Leman Russ. "Are you ready, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir! The men and machines of the 577th Armored are proud to share a battlefield with the 1333rd!" he cried. He saluted and dropped into the turret. Giles jumped down from the crate and drew his Power Sword and laspistol.

"Captain Giles?"

All turned to see the Throne Agent Orzman approaching them. He was wearing a silvery cuirass of what looked like lightweight, custom Power Armor not unlike the kind Barlocke once wore. He wore black bracers and armor plates on his legs. On the cuirass was etching of the Imperial Inquisition's symbol, the Inquisitor Rosette. Shaped as an I with a skull in the center, it ran from the base of his collar to just above the groin guard. Orzman wore a khaki uniform underneath and similarly colored trench coat over the armor. His bronze skin was free from any blemish and his black hair was so moist it looked like it was slathered with pomade.

Captain Giles saluted immediately. Orzman just waved his hand. "I would like to accompany you on your mission. I will not seize command from you, I merely wish to come along."

"I would be so honored for a member of the Inquisition to lend his skill to us this night," Giles said with the dignity of a nobleman. He bowed his head ceremoniously and Orzman offered a faint smile.

"Thank you, Captain. You are a credit to your people."

With that, Orzman slung his weapon from over his shoulder. It was a curious contraption and all the Guardsmen took note of it. The profile of the barrel suggested it was some kind of Bolter, but there was no magazine well in front of the trigger guard on the patterns like Marsh Silas had seen. It was longer and slimmer with an extended buttstock. Much to the platoon sergeant's surprise, a stubby magazine was located in the stock.

Orzman noticed him staring and smiled a little. "A carbine. Clearly, you've never been to the Calixis Sector."

Marsh Silas wasn't going to dignify the Throne Agent's smug expression with a response. This was a working mission and he had to focus on the tasks ahead of him.

Captain Giles waved his hand in a circle and then pointed out the gate.

"1st Company, let's move it out!"

The engines roared and the tanks pushed out of the fortress. Bloody Platoon was in front on the right side of the column. Weaving between chunks of rockcrete, flowing in and out of impact craters, and crouching behind shattered Aegis Defense Lines, they advanced down the road. Immediately, the tanks began receiving Autocannon and Heavy Stubber fire. Rounds pinged off the hulls of the tanks and snapped through the air. Guardsmen ducked and dove for cover and returned fire.

It became difficult to advance. Automatic fire riddled their cover and cut down men who tried to dash through the rubble. Bolt-shells ripped running soldiers apart and destroyed thin rockcrete defenses, forcing those behind them to flee. Men crawled on their bellies beside the tanks and in the gutters, vaulted and mantled over waist-heigh walls, and jumped through the firing ports and windows of buildings now turned into defense works.

The sponson-mounted weapons of the Leman Russ tanks blasted away at concentrated packs of enemy warriors. Blue plasma arced across the street, vaporizing enemy squads and blowing out their cover. Whenever a hardpoint was located on the flank the second tank would roll up until it was parallel with it and then unleash a long stream of fire from the sponson-mounted Heavy Flamer. Dark interiors of bunkers, pillboxes, and ground-floor defenses exploded in flames. Heretics tumbled out, thrashing and screaming. That same tank swung its searchlight around, illuminating heretic positions in the rockcrete. After fusillade from both the tanks and the infantry, there would be nothing left except for the bodies.

Whenever the Battle Cannons fired, it was deafening. Even the ear-defenders built into his helmet weren't enough; Marsh Silas's ears would ring for several seconds after each salvo. As he moved up to a position adjacent to the second tank, it fired its main gun. The force was severe enough that Marsh Silas fell onto his back. Holding the side of his head while there was a piercing whistle blasting in his ears, he managed to sit up. The tank commander was standing in the turret firing the pintle-mounted Storm Bolter. Its recoil was so great that his entire body was shaking. His blonde hair was peeking out from under his black leather tanker helmet, the straps bouncing over his shoulders. This fellow's bared teeth made him appear like an angry hound and his purple eyes carried the muzzle flash of the Storm Bolter.

Looking at the other tanks, he saw all the commanders standing in their tanks firing the pintle-mounted weapons. Amid the terrible gunfire coming from over their heads, the hot shrapnel sizzling through the air, gouts of flame and plasma, they exposed themselves to pour relentless fire onto the enemy. It was one of the most inspiring and bravest sights Marsh Silas ever witnessed and he knew he would never forget it.

Someone hooked their arms under his armpits and dragged him behind the second tank. It was Drummer Boy. They fell in with Hyram, who appeared very agitated as he walked along. Every few seconds, he'd pop out from behind the Leman Russ and loose a few lasbolts at hostile muzzle flashes or silhouettes on the rooftops. The latter were easy targets as they had to expose themselves to shoot. Heretics screamed, fell, and landed with dull, fleshy thumps on the pavement.

"Drummer Boy, fall back to the Griffon and spot targets for him. He needs to bring that mortar into the fight!"

Drummer Boy stopped checking Marsh Silas for wounds and tapped the side of the platoon sergeant's helmet.

"On it!" he declared with a smile.

Marsh and Hyram both stepped out and began firing at targets with their M36c's. Both were able to knock a few heretic fighters down but they drew too much fire and took cover again. It was enough time to give Drummer Boy his chance. The Voxman sprinted safely back to the rear of the column.

As they reloaded, Hyram kept swearing under his breath. He leaned out from behind the tank and cupped his hand around his mouth.

"Keep moving! Keep up with the bloody tanks!" he screamed at the host of Guardsmen picking their way along the shattered street.

Shock Troopers rose, sprinted, dove, fired, and repeated the process. They gained a few meters at a time and one by one, they began to catch up with the leading tank. Interior Guardsmen bravely forded the ruins, pushing through gaps in the broken barricades or sifting through the rubble. But each time a handful tried to storm forward, they were cut down. When they saw so many of their own going down, both Shock Troopers and Interior Guardsmen would find cover and stall.

Hyam's purple eyes were fiery. He leaned out from behind the tank again and waved his arm. "I said keep moving!" he hollered. "Get up and advance, damn your eyes!"

"Sir, get back!" Marsh yelled, trying to tug him behind the tank. Hyram relented and pressed his back against the hull.

"I should've kept Drummer Boy nearby for the Vox-hailer," he growled. Another fusillade of Stubber, Autogun, and Bolter fire ripped over their heads. Rounds bombarded the Leman Russ's sturdy armor plating and chewed up so much rockrete all around there seemed to be hundreds of stones raining down on them. Some Guardsmen fell and did not get back up. Many did not move from their current positions.

Hyram roared in anger. "We're barely a hundred meters away from the fortress!" He leaned out again. "Hurry up! By the Throne, at least pretend to act like Cadians!"

"Sir, get back!"

But the Lieutenant held his ground, shouting and shooting by turns. Suddenly, there was a loud ptchoo and Hyram fell backwards. Marsh collapsed beside him. "Seathan!" he screamed.

There was a long, vertical, bloody gash going up the left side of Hyram's cheek, all the way from his jaw line to the bottom of his eye. An Autogun slug had skipped off the pavement and bounced upwards along his face. It hit the bottom of his goggles, cracked the ballistic glasses, and ricocheted off the edge of his goggles. Blood seeped out of the wound and the platoon leader was blinking very quickly.

"What hit me? Am I shot?" Hyram began patting down his armor and fatigues. "Where am I hit? Did I take it to my plate?"

Marsh Silas, having ran through countless emotions in just a few seconds, laughed in relief.

"You got shot in the fucking face!"

He dragged his friend further behind the tank. When he crouched down to treat the wound, Hyram shoved him away.

"No, get the men moving! We need to advance!"

Marsh Silas jumped into action. He shoved troopers forward, dragged them out of cover by their collars, and kicked them in the seat of their pants if they didn't move.

"Get moving, you slags!" he screamed. "If you stay here, you'll die! Let's go, let's go, let's go!"

The platoon sergeant raced around, timing his sprints between bursts of enemy automatic fire. Bullets tore through his pantlegs and chewed up the ground all around him. Rounds skipped, snapped, and whizzed by. A few times, his Flak Armor caught a bullet and sent him to the ground. But he jumped back up and continued, manhandling soldiers from their hiding spots and encouraging them to move on.

Marsh Silas jumped on top of a barricade where some men from 2nd Platoon were taking cover. "Move it up! Come on!" When they didn't move, he took off his helmet and started hitting them on the top of their own helmets or their backs. "Move it, dogfaces! Let's go, gunmen!"

He spotted some Interior Guardsmen who was all bunched up in a shell crater. Marsh jumped in and started kicking their rucksacks. "Advance, Cadians, advance for your Emperor!"

Behind them, the Griffon's mortar belched. A high explosive shell slammed into a Bastion tower overtaken by the enemy. When the smoke settled, there was a gaping hole left in the wall. The Leman Russ tanks added their fire, destroying the interior walls and collapsing the floors with several salvos. As more troops seized positions on the flanks and on the streets, enemy fire was beginning to slacken.

Slowly but surely, 1st Company and their tank support rolled past the soldier's hall where Bloody Platoon had stayed for the past few weeks. As he ran to a fallen column, Marsh Silas couldn't help but look right. Two dead Shock Troopers from another regiment, armed with rocket launchers and backpacks stuffed with shells, were beside the door. Each one had a massive, gaping hole in their helmets. Dark blood ran from the wound, dripping down their frozen faces and into their pale purple eyes. Among the twisted metal of the blast windows and chunks of rockcrete shorn from the building's face, these two soldiers slumped, shoulder to shoulder.

Enemy fire intensified in front of him. Marsh Silas came to a halt as Heavy Bolter fire streamed from the next building, cutting down some Cadian skirmishers advancing with the first tank. There was a fwooom and a rocket slammed into the armor plating of the lead tank. It failed to penetrate the armor but it left a massive black scorch mark and a hefty dent. Just as the Leman Russ came to a stop, another rocket swarmed right by its front. With a couch, the engine reversed and the tank came grinding backwards. That's when a missile struck the road right where the Leman Russ had been. It didn't stop backing up until it was away from the second building's field of fire and then it stopped again.

"Set up a perimeter!" Captain Giles shouted. He ran over to the tank and jumped on top. As he did, the lieutenant from earlier popped out.

"Captain, sir, we can't advance with that amount of anti-tank defenses in front of us! We need every single tank if we're to retake the gate!"

Giles nodded and tapped the tanker's black helmet. He jumped down and made a circle in the air with his finger—it was the signal for 'rally up.' Marsh Silas, other NCOs, and officers hurried to the first tank. They all took cover behind it. Carstensen came up with Hyram from the second tank. He had run his hand over his wound, leaving a big bloody smear over his cheek. There had been no time to administer sutures or even sealant gel, so a medic had strapped a pressure dressing against his face. It was essentially a big white pad with ties.

Hyram smiled when he knelt beside Marsh Silas. Blood from the wound had leaked into his mouth so there was a wet, red tinge to his teeth. Carstensen reached over and touched Marsh on his shoulder plate. Such greetings may have been quick but still conveyed the weight of their feelings.

Giles tapped Lieutenant Hyram on the front of his helmet. "Take Bloody Platoon into this hall, find an entrance into the next building, and clear it out."

"Yes, sir! Bloody Platoon, on me, on me!"

Hyram led them over to the hall. He deployed the Heavy Bolter teams on either side of the destroyed blast windows to provide cover. Then, he stacked up with 1st Squad on the door and surged in. Marsh Silas waited with 2nd Squad, waiting for a signal. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Orzman had joined them as well as Commissar Ghent. Neither of them seemed to notice his staring, waiting just as impatiently as he was.

"Clear!" Sergeant Holmwood called. Marsh Silas and Mottershead entered with the rest of the squad right behind him. The interior of the hall was a wreck. All the synthetic wooden flooring over the rockcrete foundation was smashed and burned. Tables had been broken in two, chairs were reduced to splinters, the armored bar was riddled with bullet holes, and the kitchen was nothing but a mess of sparking wires and smoking machines. Dead Guardsmen and heretics littered the floor.

"Lamps on!" Marsh hissed. Men lit up their helmet-mounted lights or their light attachments to the side-rails of their M36's. Yellow and white beams swayed back and forth. Dust and smoke swirled in the glow.

"3rd Squad, search the kitchen. 2nd Squad, sweep the second floor. Everyone else, hold here," Hyram ordered.

Marsh and Mottershead approached the stairs. They exchanged a glance and nodded. In one swift motion, the platoon sergeant took a knee and trained his M36c towards the top of the stairs. Mottershead remained standing, hugged the left side of the staircase, and began approaching the top. Sliding along the wall, his squad followed.

Mottershead was halfway up when there was a metallic thunk. A round metal object rolled down the stairs.

"Grenaaaade!" he cried before leaping over the railing. His squad all jumped from the stairs and Marsh dove for cover. The explosion rocked the hall. Dust and splinters flew everywhere. Hot shrapnel sizzled through the air, biting into Flak Armor and embedding in the floor.

When Marsh's hearing returned, he heard screaming. Corporal Second Class Vogt was staggering on his feet and holding his back. Shrapnel had ripped through his coat and torn up the flesh of his back underneath his torso piece.

"Medic up!"

"Contact left!"

Marsh's attention snapped back to the stairs. A heretic came storming down the stairs, firing an autogun. A dozen lasbolts struck him and the man practically disintegrated. The next one leaned out from the top and fired a few bursts. Guardsmen scattered, trying to find cover behind dead bodies and tables.

"Contact front!"

Enemies jumped into view from the kitchen. They came storming over the bar with short swords, machetes, and daggers. Howling and shrieking, they threw themselves at Bloody Platoon. The first wave who leaped over the bar were cut down in a hail of colorful lasbolts but the second managed to clamber over the bodies of their dead comrades. Marsh Silas, still on his back, spun around and shot a charging heretic down and then two more who tried to rush. Just as he took aim at a fourth, he squeezed the trigger and there was a dull bwrrmm. His charge back was out.

Just then, a Bolt-shell struck the traitor in the chest and it blew his entire torso open. He collapsed onto his knees in front of Marsh Silas and fell right between the platoon sergeant's legs. Orzman knelt beside him, shot two more, ejected the magazine, and slammed a full one in. Three more shots, three more kills. Steadily, he approached the bar with a line of Guardsmen. When he stopped to reload again, a screaming heretic came at him. He ducked, slammed his shoulder against the heretic's stomach and kicked his arm back at the same time, rolling the enemy over his shoulder. Spinning around, he bashed the heretic's teeth in with a buttstock blow and caved in his faceplate with a second.

Marsh Silas scrambled to his feet, reloaded, and followed Orzman. At once, the line of Imperial warriors vaulted over the bar, bayoneted the heretics in front of them, and pressed the survivors back into the kitchen. Stepping over broken dishes and bodies, they slaughtered the rest, forcing them to tumble back into a corner as they tripped and scrambled over their dead.

Marsh was cornering one heretic beside a cold storage door when the entrance popped open. A shotgun barrel poked out and fired; the shot tore off the heretic's face and part of his skull. When the door swung open completely, the hall caretaker stepped out. She was dirty and bloody, but her Flak Armor made her look soldierly and very intimidating. Behind her, other Shock Troopers, Interior Guardsmen, and auxiliary Cadian troops filtered out.

"Bout' time someone showed up to clear the vermin outta my hall," she huffed. She flashed a broad smile at Marsh Silas. "Why, if it isn't the war hero?"

"Name and rank," Commissar Ghent ordered, strutting up to the pair. She saluted quickly.

"Gunnery Sergeant Dita Wulff, Commissar!"

"You are hereby reinstated into the Astra Militarum. Rally these survivors Gunnery Sergeant, you are now in command of this platoon's 4th Squad."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Wulff grinned at Marsh again and slapped his shoulder plate. "Time to make the bastards pay for my bar, eh?"

"Yes, Gunny," Marsh replied confidently.

The Cadians exited the kitchen and entered the main area.

"Clear up!" Mottershead called from above.

"Clear down!" Hyram replied then pointed at Wulff. "Keeper, take us to the tunnel which joins this hall to the next structure."

"Negative, sir. The Traitor Marines knew all the buildings have interconnecting works and tunnels and collapsed them with explosives. Both tunnels are blocked and I doubt y'all have enough explosives to bust through."

Hyram swore under his breath and turned away.

"Yoxhall, ideas?"

"Sir, we could collapse or blow through one o' these here walls. Problem is, I grabbed a mess of Krak det-packs. Works fine for armor but ain't much against solid rockcrete."

The platoon leader nodded and stroked his chin with his free hand. He paced for a few moments before turning around to Marsh Silas.

"There's two dead troopers outside with rocket launchers. We might be able to blast through with those."

"Ho! Tattersall, Clivvy, Rowley, with me."

Marsh Silas led them outside. Together, they sifted through the rubble and pulled the larger chunks of rockcrete off the bodies. "Remember your explosives courses, Whiteshields? What kinda ammunition is that?"

"Concussion Rockets, Staff Sergeant!" Rowley answered immediately, sifting through the dead troopers' backpacks. "Anti-fortification ammunition!"

"Well done. Clivvy, Rowley, you're team one. Tattersall, you'll be my loader. Let's go."

Marsh Silas knew he wouldn't be able to carry both the tube and one of his primary weapons. He already carried an M36c, Barlocke's Mk. 22c shotgun and Ripper Pistol, and his own Power Sword. It was too much weight. Walking back into the hall with his fireteam, he tossed his M36c to Hyram. "Keep the barrel warm for me, sir."

"We'll attack from two points. Marsh Silas, take a small team to the second floor and enter via the adjacent wall. Clivvy and Rowley will stay with the majority of the platoon and we'll attack from the ground floor. We'll move on your go."

For his team, Marsh chose to stick with 2nd Squad. Also accompanying him were Orzman and Commissar Carstensen. She was beside him as they stampeded up the stairs. The squad took cover in separate rooms on either side of the hall. Wanting some distance, Marsh backed up until he was beside the room he and Carstensen shared for so long.

He could not help but stop to gaze through the destroyed doorway. The door was thrown off its hinges, the flooring was smashed and torn up, the furniture was shredded, and there were gaping holes in the rockcrete walls.

A hand on his cheek forced him to look forward.

"Focus, my love," Carstensen whispered before stepping out of the hall. Marsh nodded, knelt, and raised the rocket launcher. Tattersall came up behind him and slid one of the Concussion Rockets into the tube. There was a smack on the back of his helmet.

"Set," the Whiteshield said as he came up beside him.

Marsh looked over his shoulder.

"Backblast clear! Firing!"

Fwoom! The rocket slammed against the rockcrete wall. Rather than a large, fiery explosion, there was a concussion resulting in a cloud of white smoke. In the same instant, cracks spread through the wall and it collapsed backwards, shattering as if it was a glass window.

Marsh slung the launcher over his shoulder and grabbed his shotgun. Ejecting the normal slugs in the rotary magazine, he slipped in eight flechette shells. Checking the bayonet, he followed Carstensen, Orzman, and the rest of 2nd Squad through the breach. Barreling over shellshocked heretics and bayonetting them in their bellies, they fanned out across and open balcony where the heretics had set up a Heavy Stubber.

Logue was the one who stormed into the sandbag position, gunning down three heretics and grabbing the automatic weapon. Training it on the enemies below, he laced the ground floor with streams of enfilading fire. Heretics scrambled for cover and a few Traitor Marines who were with them raised their Bolters. Krak Grenades were flung through the first-floor breach, detonating at the feet of the hostile Marines and forcing them to protect their flank.

Carstensen rushed forward, the blue energy enveloping her Power Fist pulsing, and hit a heretic who was about to pull the pin on a grenade. The impact was so great he went flying form the balcony and onto the floor below. Guardsmen grappled with the disoriented enemy, slitting throats and tossing them off the balcony.

While Wulff led 4th Squad in a push along the balcony, clearing it of reinforcements, 2nd Squad took up positions along the railong to engage the enemy below. Running up to a sandbag position, Marsh lined up his sights on a wounded Traitor Marine. Despite their AP capabilities, he knew the rounds wouldn't penetrate even ancient Power Armor on the frontal plate. He aimed for joints; knee caps, elbows, and the neck.

He squeezed the trigger and cycled the magazine. The first shot slammed into a traitor's knee; it chewed up the metal and staggered him. A second shot tore the plate even further but the Traitor Marine had spotted Marsh Silas. Turning, he raised a Bolt Pistol with a skull mounted over the barrel and fired an angry fusillade. Marsh ducked behind the sandbags, which swiftly came apart from the concentrated fire. Scrambling to another barrier on his stomach, he caught his breath, found his courage, and popped up again. He squeezed off another round and it finally penetrated the knee plate. The Traitor Marine collapsed on one leg and as he tried to lift his pistol, Commissar Ghent lanced him with his Power Sword. He followed it up with a full magazine of Bolt-shells to the Traitor's head.

"Clear up!"

"Clear down!" Hyram shouted. "Drummer Boy, radio the tanks and tell them to move forward. Inform Captain Giles we're moving into the next building."

Bloody Platoon hit its stride. Circumventing the blocked tunnels that the enemy so cleverly closed, they blasted through the walls into the next building, and the next, and the next. Each firefight was adrenaline-pumping, dynamic, fast, and absolutely savage. Guardsmen and heretics tangled with one another, punching, kicking, stabbing, bayoneting, and shooting. Soldiers roared prayers to the God-Emperor as they rushed into each fray. Men who were wounded tried to fight on, holding their M36's with one hand. Other men who had exhausted their charge packs, drew their trench knives and laspistols.

Each time they reclaimed a structure, troops from behind them reinforced the position and held it against further assault. Stalwart warriors across multiple Cadian branches who held out in redoubts and last-ditch positions joined Bloody Platoon. Quartermaster-Sergeants caught up with the troops, giving them charge packs, grenades, rockets, and other ammunition before bravely returning to the garrison under fire to fetch more supplies.

To prevent the enemy from adapting, Hyram varied his tactics. Sometimes, he ordered the walls to be destroyed but for the troops to hold back. Grenades and Heavy Bolter would commence the attack instead of a bayonet push. Other times, he organized the troopers into ranks and cut enemy defenders in half with fusillades of lasbolts. Once, he even led a squad in a daring flanking attack back out onto the street and stormed the building from the front while two other teams assaulted form the ground and second floors.

Outside, the convoy continued to take out hard targets and provide cover for advancing troops. The Griffon's Heavy Mortar Cannon would blow gaping holes in captured Bastions, create breaches in bunkers, and clear out the interlocking, jagged roadways of concentrated heretics. Heavy Bolters chewed up infantry and Leman Russ Battle Cannons blasted through enemy armor and entrenchments. Plasma beams and streams of fire seared through the air.

Traitor Marines tried to rally their peons, who were beginning to falter and retreat. Try as they might to stand and fight, they could not resist the tide. Krak Missiles and grenades, autocannons, and concentrated lasgun fire was too much for their Power Armor. But many paid a terrible price as they assaulted the enemy Marines. Shock Troopers lost feet, hands, legs, and entire arms. Interior Guardsmen were blown to bits by Bolt-shells. Some men were merely beaten into crumpled, bloody heaps of broken bones and shattered organs. But each loss only served to fuel the Cadians' resolve to take Kasr Sonnen back.

Guardsmen whooped, prayed, hollered, cheered, and taunted the heretics and Traitor Marines who were steadily losing ground. Hyram, Marsh Silas, and Carstensen barked orders and issued war cries as they stormed enemy fortifications. Above it all, Commissar Ghent raised his fist and screamed incantations and invoked the memory of the Cadians who came before them.

Every time Marsh Silas heard him call on the men to push forward in the name of the Emperor, he felt his heart soar. He was seething with confidence and grinning constantly. One after another, he blew down walls with the rocket launcher and joined his friends in their furious assaults. Dozens upon dozens of buildings were seized back from the enemy. Nothing could stop them, Marsh Silas thought.

He squeezed the trigger once again. Fwoom! The wall collapsed and Hyram led Bloody Platoon to the breach. But as the dust settled, they realized they weren't entering another building. There were looking over a six-lane intersection overlooked by Firestorm Redoubts, pillboxes, bunkers, and Aegis Defense Lines. Among the twisting barricades and irregular roadways were hundreds of bodies. Imperial and heretical dead slumped over each other, some buildings were reduced to rubble, and burnt-out vehicles sat everywhere. Occupants from multiple buildings and positions were exchanging fire. Imperial forces were gaining ground as well and much to Marsh Silas's delight, he could see the main gate down the road!

"Where are the tanks?" Sergeant Cuyper asked aloud. Marsh and Hyram went to the main entrance with the squad leader. They looked onto the war-torn road. Cadian infantry was trickling down to their position and taking back buildings. But the tanks were nowhere to be soon.

"Did we lose them?" Hyram asked. "Drummer Boy, raise Captain Giles immediately!"

"Sir, enemy armor!"

They raced back to the breach and crouched behind the waist-high remnants of the wall. Smoke and dust were swirling through the air and Marsh Silas could only see the vague shapes of enemy vehicles. Raising his magnoculars, he activated thermal imaging. The world became grayish-black and he could see white-hot boxy shapes rumbling down the road. They drew closer, steadily, menacingly, rolling over barricades and plowing heaps of twisted metal out of the way.

Flipping the setting back to clear-channel, he finally recognized the shape. The lead vehicle was a gray a Predator light tank adorned in black spikes with bleached white skulls mounted on them. Much of the vehicle's trim was gold and there were hazard stripes along the track guards. Behind it came three defaced Rhino transports, each one bedecked with spikes, golden trim, and Eight-Pointed Stars. Havoc Missile Launchers swiveled back and forth, the operators searching for targets. Traitor Marines stood in the forward hatches, operating pintle-mounted Storm Bolters.

Flooding the intersection, the Rhinos dropped their rear hatches and Traitor Marines spilled out. As Bolt-shells ripped through the opening, the Havoc Launcher on the leading Rhino turned in their direction.

"Hit the deck!" Hyram hollered. Just as Marsh Silas dove onto the ground, he felt the concussion from numerous explosions. Chunks of rockcrete and floorboards fell around him. The front section of the building collapsed, killing a few men. Predator Autocannon shells followed, keeping them pinned down. The balcony in the building collapsed and dozens of men tumbled down.

Marsh Silas crawled up to Hyram and Drummer boy and managed to peek over the rubble. The enemy vehicles spread out and began laying down heavy fire against all the Imperial positions. Armed with Heavy Flamers, Traitor Marines stomped up to a bunker and filled it with fire. Cadians tumbled out of the firing ports and entrances, dancing in the flames. Troops out on the street fell back but were mown down by sponson-mounted Heavy Bolters and the Predator tank's Autocannon. One squad disappeared in a cloud of red mist, reduced to charred Flak Armor and chunks of flesh.

"Sir, Captain Giles reports they've hit a roadblock five hundred meters back behind the bend," Drummer Boy yelled over the noise. "The tanks can't get through so they're taking an alternate route. He wants us to hold position. ETA: five minutes!"

"We're not going to last for five fucking minutes!" Hyram shouted. "Bloody Platoon, return fire! For the Emperor's sake, return fire!"

Knaggs and Fletcher erected the tripod to their Missile Launcher, took aim, and fired. The first Krak Missile they launched managed to immobilize one of the Rhinos and the second detonated the engine. A cloud of fire erupted from every hatch in the vehicle. Fleming and other grenadiers did what they could with Krak Grenades, eliminating Traitor Marines in twos and threes, breaking up their squads before they could advance. The Walmsley brothers as well as Albert and Brownlow suppressed enemy infantry, but the Traitor Marines nimbly moved from cover to cover, avoiding the Heavy Bolter fire.

The enemy came on, seemingly undaunted. They lobbed grenades at their positions, forcing them to duck. More than once, it became a match of catching grenades. Marsh Silas dropped his M36c, snatched a frag as it veered towards him, and flung it back before it could explode. Orzman slid up beside him and managed to kill another of the Marines with his Bolt Carbine.

"Give me some cover, Marsh Silas!" he ordered.

"Covering fiiiiire!"

As their fire intensified, Orzman leaped out of the building, weaved between debris, and exchanged fire with Traitor Marines. One of them dropped his empty Bolter and drew a sword. Orzman deftly ducked under the swipe, drew his own Power Sword, and cut the Marine's leg off at the knee. Leaving a Krak Grenade as a parting token, he took a running jump off a roadblock and jumped at another Traitor Marine. He embedded the blade in the monster's chest so deeply it came out the other side. Tearing it away and sheathing it, he disappeared behind the destroyed enemy Rhino.

A moment later, he scampered over to another of the Rhinos which was targeting Bloody Platoon's position with its Storm Bolter. Orzman climbed up, dispatched the gunner with his Bolt Carbine, and dropped a Krak Grenade down the hatch. Just as he jumped off, the vehicle exploded. And much to Marsh's amazement, Orzman dashed back towards their position through a hail of Bolt-shells.

Marsh stood up and extended his hand. Orzman snatched it and the platoon sergeant yanked him back into cover. The Throne Agent nodded at Marsh Silas. But the victory was short-lived. From one of the roads to their right, more enemy vehicles appeared. Another Predator and two more Rhinos slid into view. Again, the volume of enemy fire increased and Bloody Platoon was forced to crouch behind whatever cover they had. The building was steadily coming apart and the screaming of the wounded were drowned out by the barrage.

Turning over, he grabbed Drummer Boy his collar and brought him close. "Tanks! Where are the bloody tanks!?" The Voxman's response was drowned out by a salvo of Autocannon rounds.

"Take heed Guardsmen!" Commissar Ghent shouted above the fray, marching in full view of the enemy. "If we are about to die, then we do so for the greatest cause! Even if we fall, Kasr Sonnen shall not! For the Emperor!"

And it was at that very moment that a shell landed right on top of one of the Rhinos. The transport caught fire and then exploded. Heavy shells whizzed through the air and smashed into the Traitors' vehicles.

Bloody Platoon poked their heads up above their cover to see the convoy coming down the road on the opposite side of the intersection. They fired again and destroyed another swathe of armored targets. Traitor Marines turned their fire on the tanks but they were caught in the middle of their attack, right in the open. Defiantly, they charged the convoy but disappeared in Heavy Bolter and cannon fire.

Captain Giles was riding on the lead tank. He waved his sword in the air.

"Make for the gate! Chaaarge!" he screamed over his personal Voxman's hailer.

There was a great war cry as several companies of Guardsmen surged down multiple roads. They stormed into enemy redoubts, rescued their trapped friends, and pressed on to the gate. Like floodwaters, they flowed over every obstacle and barricade. Heretics disappeared in walls of bayonets. Troops even stormed across rooftops, toppling the invaders from their perches.

"Bloody Platoon, follow me!" Hyram yelled.

Marsh Silas whooped as he followed his friend into the fray. They raced up the road along with the tanks and thousands of troops on either side. Above them, Valkyrie transports swooped in and dropped troops onto the walls and onto the barbican housing the gate itself. Lasbolts streaked from every angle, explosions rippled and blossomed across the castle. More airborne troops dropped onto the ramparts, Vulture gunships circled overhead and swept enemy combatants from the walls.

"Hold with the tanks! Hold the gate at all costs!" Captain Giles shouted as he jumped down from the Leman Russ. All three tanks formed a line in front of the great gate. Across the bridge swarmed seemingly thousands of heretics supported by Traitor Marines and their foul machines. Bloody Platoon dug in among the rubble, sandbags, Aegis Defense Lines, shell craters, and abandoned positions and directed all their fire onto the enemy. Hundreds of Guardsmen joined them. Autocannons slammed away, squads of enemies disappeared in concentrated beams of plasma and lasers, and Heavy Bolters cut down entire platoons. The Leman Russ tanks blasted away, their Battle Cannons destroying one armored target after another. On and on the enemy came, undeterred by the wall of Imperial fire.

Marsh crouched to reload but somebody turned him around. It was Orzman.

"Marsh Silas, the men on the walls won't be able to get to the gate controls in time. If we can't close the gate, then let's raise the bridge! Follow me!"

The Throne Agent pointed towards a ladder adjacent to their position.

"With you!" Marsh shouted. The pair ran along the line. Bolt-shells, tracers, and lasbolts tore by them. Orzman threw himself onto the ladder and began climbing. Marsh was right behind him. Autogun slugs pinged off the ladder guard and ripped across the metal timbers that held the gate. It was a long climb up many stories. Many times, the platoon sergeant resolved not to look down but his gaze fell each time there was a tremendous explosion. He felt exposed and murmured many prayers. Sweat ran down his face and stung his eyes. His arms ached, he was out of breath, and several times his hands slipped on a rung.

A rocket slammed into the timber adjacent to the ladder well. Part of the guard rails around Marsh broke and cascaded to the ground below.

"For the love of the Emperor, climb faster!" Orzman shouted. Another rocket hit near them. Rungs of the ladder and more guard rails fell from above and below. "It's coming apart, hurry!"

Finally, he could see the catwalk. Orzman slipped over the edge and appeared again, extending his hand. Marsh was almost there when another rocket slammed into the timbers. Suddenly, the ladder popped off the catwalk. The air was filled with metal creaks and wails as the ladder began to fall backwards.

Marsh scrambled up the last few rungs and reached out with both arms. Orzman caught his hands and with a grunt of exertion, pulled the Shock Trooper onto the catwalk. Rolling onto his back, Marsh released an exasperated breath.

"Thank the Emperor and all the Saints!" he wheezed.

"Get up, Guardsman! We're at the emergency bridge control unit."

As Marsh tiredly lifted himself up, Orzman tried to force the door to the office open. "They're holding it! Help me, Silas!"

Marsh and Orzman threw their shoulders against the door once, twice, thrice, four times Roaring on the fifth attempt, they bashed the door open and threw the heretics back. The pair dispatched the defenders with their sidearms. But one of the survivors leveled the barrel of a Flamer and screamed. Orzman ducked out of the room while Marsh dove onto the rockcrete floor. Scrambling towards the invader under the stream of flame, the platoon sergeant sprung up, grabbed the Flamer out of his hands, and wrestled around behind him. Turning the heretic around, he forced him to squeeze the triggers and set his few remaining comrades alight.

As they sounded their death nells, Marsh forced the heretic towards the control panel and threw him through the window. "Well done, that was close. Now, pull that lever," Orzman ordered as he came back into the office.

Marsh yanked on the yellow handle on the control panel by the broken window. Emergency sirens wailed and the gigantic mechanisms located throughout the barbican began to grind. Both halves of the bridge began to rise. Those traitors and their vehicles in the center fell through the crack, tumbling into the moat below. The ones in front began sliding down, crashing into huge piles that were crushed by sliding tanks and transports. All the ones who attempted to escape to the other end met a similar fate.

As the Cadians above and below gave a great cheer, Orzman leaned over and grabbed Marsh by his shoulder plate. "That should hold them back, Guardsman. For now, at least."


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Comment Responses:

Spatialyeti8: Yeah, I don't think there's a threesome opportunity there. Marsh Silas and Carstensen are deeply in love and Barlocke's soul fragment, as mysterious and chiding as he is, respects that. We have to remember that despite his own mysterious feelings for Marsh Silas, Barlocke was encouraging him to pursue Carstensen because he knew, deep down, Marsh admired her very much. Not to mention, Barlocke's fragment isn't powerful enough to manifest as a physical form.

Yatagan: You have NO IDEA how relieving and helpful this comment is! Thank you very much! Even though my own preference is obviously for Astra Militarum stuff, I wanted to do justice to the Chaos Space Marines. I wanted them to be tactical and dangerous, and not just blithering screaming idiots who charge everywhere. I spent a lot of time studying the Iron Warriors, whom the marks of these Marines' armor has alluded to, to make sure I got their doctrine right. I want to focus on their abilities as engineers, sappers, and attacking fortifications, giving them a methodic way of taking out targets and seizing ground from their enemies. I also wanted them to be able to strike fast, as it's noted they send strike units out to engage the enemy whilst preparing fortifications which, if you don't mind a spoiler, is coming up. ;) Again, thanks again and I appreciate how you feel about this story! I admire your dedication to plow on through this work! The first story is 662 pages on Docs and the current story stands at 415; 1,077 pages in a week! Give yourself a pat on the back!