Major Entry 5
Battle for Barr Maol
Cruan
Barr Maol
0400 Hours local…
I was awoken by a gentle tapping on my leg. Blinking awake, I saw Si crouching in the darkness.
"Up and at 'em, boss; today's the day," he whispered. I grunted in affirmation, nodding, wiping sleep from my eyes. I got my bearings, grabbed my stolen Gue'vesa kit, and got changed, slowly arriving at full alertness. Around the darkened interior of the treatment plant, with Si's picked teams of five or six doing the same. By 0419, we were all ready to go…to wait.
"Well boss, you got us up and proper early to sit with our thumbs our ass," said one of the Fusiliers, a whisp of a man name Janich.
"I'd ask if you're missing beauty sleep, but there ain't nothing beautiful about you," I retorted, rising to the challenge. Everyone, Janich included, covered their mouths to conceal the laughter and chuckling. I smiled and shook my head, my stomach grumbling.
"Oh, that reminds me," another Fusilier named Kent reached into a side pouch and pulled a gray-wrapped bar from it, "the lads and I found these."
"What are these?" I asked, taking the offered bar.
"Tau Protein and Energy bar," Kent said, everyone watching my reaction. With a raised eyebrow, I opened the bar, sniffed it, and took a solid bite out of it. In a way I wasn't prepared for, my taste buds threw my mind back to when I was a cadet in bumfuck Ohio, USA; freshman me taking a solid chomp from a near-solid First Strike energy bar from an MRE.
"You'll be alright," said one of my friends "just be confident!"
"You think so?" I had asked him, crunching through the oddly tasty energy bar.
"Of course! Girls love confidence; hell, you can get through anything in life if you act like you've got the balls for it!" My friend clapped me on the back. I blinked and I was back in the water treatment plant, surrounded by new friends who asked me to be confident for them, all of the watching my reaction.
"Now," I said, chewing and swallowing the energy bar, "call me a heretic, boys, but this is fucking good."
"Might I recommend we leave these out of the mission reports, lest our dear commissars kill us for heresy?" Someone said.
"Here here!" Another called. It proceeded much like this for the next half hour until 0450ish, where I stood, dusting crumbs from my kit.
"Aight gents, listen up," I said, "guard change happens at 0530; I want a group positioned and concealed near each tower at 0510. At 0540, after shift change, each team will size a tower, quietly. No lasguns, no autoguns, no grenades; blades only. Teams will take and hold these towers until we clack off the charges. Once that happens, you'll be in charge of shooting down into the CP, picking off targets, and making this base a murder bowl." The teams nodded in understanding. "I'm asking a lot of you; you'll be stranded, away from the rest of us, and when we move on the airbase, you'll be alone."
"Mate," it was the soldier named Stimpson, one of the two stubber gunners I had kept firing at the Sruth, "we've been alone since we dropped, this ain't no different."
"And I know ya'll will do your jobs," I said, nodding to him, "frankly you have the best job of the mission."
"Like rats in a cage," said Kent.
"Fish in a barrel," I said, nodding. "Now, are we ready gents?"
"Let fire fly," Si said.
"And traitors die!" The rest chimed in.
"Let's get out there," I led the way out into the pre-dawn darkness; the Tau base lit by dim lamps inside, with floodlights roving around in the woods outside the walls. We stalked through the CP, skulking from cover to cover. I took the closet tower with my team of five, Si took the one beyond that with his team. My band of saboteurs hid behind a cluster of crates stacked against the outer wall. We nestled ourselves down and waited in silence, pressed against the crates.
The shift change crew came, grumbling about the early morning wake up and the need to come to work. We waited for the voices to pass; looking at my watch, I saw 0516; good, we were on time. Fifteen minutes later, the night shift crew came out, quiet as they contemplated the sleep they were going to get. At 0540, I quietly rose, drawing my own bayonet, and nodded.
Across the base, I knew the other teams were doing the same, rising and walking towards their assigned posts. The door to the tower base was unlocked and we entered quietly, rising up the stairs like wraiths from the grave. We came to the center of the tower, where it met the battlements, and waited outside the door. Everyone gathered around, I rolled my neck, concealed my blade in my sleeve, pounded on the door, and barged in.
"Oi, the hell are you doing on shift?" I barked, walking in like I owned the place. The assembled crew of five looked blearily at me as I strode to the furthest man in the room, clapped a hand on his shoulder, and drove the bayonet into his throat. The other five Fusiliers hurtled into the room with bayonets glinting in the dull light, finding skin and vital organs, blood spilling on the floor.
"Right, clean this mess up; chuck 'em over the wall if you have to, but keep them out of sight," I ordered. The others nodded and started their work as I took stock of the situation, noting the abundance of Imperial comns equipment. "Xypha's gonna love this," I muttered, "tower is yours now, gents. I'm going to send the Adept and her Rangers to set up with you."
"Copy that, we'll be waiting, boss," Kent said. I nodded and left the tower, taking the stairs down to at a time. Forgoing stealth for speed, I crossed the courtyard to the old treatment plant, went inside, and found the Adept and her guards standing ready.
"Xypha," I said, breathing hard, "go to the nearest guard tower; there's Imperial comns tech for you to work."
"Omnissiah be praised; it will be good to work with his holy machines!" Xypha said, inclining her head in reverence, "I will contact you once I am prepared." The three moved quickly out of the plant, their legs moving in mechanical unison as they departed.
The rest of the Fusiliers had begun awakening at this point, rising and preparing. I looked down at my watch; 0551, we needed to move faster. I started moving and rousing the Fusiliers in the dim plant, nudging, kicking, and hissing at them to wake up. There were no retorts or foul looks, they awoke and did as they were told, ensuring their stolen kit was as immaculate as possible before they stepped outside.
"Everything go alright?" Hob asked as I came near him. I gave a thumbs up, passing him to continue waking the rest of the Guardsmen. At 0604, my vox bead crackled.
"Xypha to Russman, Xypha to Russman, are you receiving me?" The Adept asked over the vox.
"Russ to Xypha, good copy, read you Lima-Charlie, over," I answered. *Lima-Charlie= Military Speak for Loud and Clear*.
"Understood; the traitor equipment has been cleansed of xenos taint, and the machine spirit is in full compliance. I am coordinating with Adept Crede via the telegraph in order to establish vox communications with friendly forces," Xypha informed me.
"Good copy, keep me in the loop. Det-time set for 0720, over."
"Received, I shall remain on comns if you require me. Xypha out." The vox fell silent and I resumed my rousing. By 0611, the Fusiliers were all upright, eating what they could scrounge, and generally preparing for the day. We had divided everyone up into teams of five, each with two "planters" with either meltas, krak, or blasting charges, and three "watchers" who guarded the duo while the worked to plant and conceal the charges. Those had been deemed excess were the "Bundle Boys", tasked with moving our Loyalist kit to predetermined positions across the CP. Everyone clustered into their groups as we made ready to go.
"Xypha to Russman; Corporal McDonagh sends his regards, an unnecessary comment about the morning, and wishes to inform you that his Regulars are in position, over."
"Russ to Xypha, can I not speak to him directly?"
"Negative; I am utilizing the foul aliens' communication network to send these distant messages. One errant signal is enough to escape notice; two will create a large draw on the system and attract unwanted attention."
"Affirm; send McDonagh my regards, my own unnecessary compliment on the morning, and that the Fusiliers are preparing to step off, over." I replied, a small, shit eating grin on my face.
"I will do so, however, I caution against ridiculing the woman operating your communications network, out." I laughed as she cut the line, shook my head, and checked my gear. I licked by thumb and scrubbed away some blood on the chest piece, straightened out the pouches, and made sure everything looked orderly before I checked the concealed pouch hidden behind my chest piece. Inside lay the melta charge that Ted had smuggled to me; small, gear shaped, and compact, it was a reserve charge if absolutely needed. I prayed I didn't.
At 0635, with all teams assembled and ready, we set off in our teams out the various exits throughout Barr Maol. I waited until everyone else had departed before I left, taking a deep breath and stepping out into the cool morning air once more. The CP now held a light buzz of activity as the Gue'vesa moved around the CP, getting a head start on the work for the day, heading to chow, or just socializing. The normality after the slaughter five days ago…somewhat sickened me; the casualness of these traitors as they milled about like sheep after they-
I took another deep breath, calming myself; there would be time for exercising the anger later. Right now, I pressed it down, cooled it, and turned into fuel for what was to come. I walked out into the Tau CP, watching the traitors milling about, gritting my teeth and smiling as I walked past them. Around the courtyard, I watched as the Fusiliers slunk about in their loose groups, disappearing to set their charges in various ammo points, generators, and other locations.
It was a slow process that increased in speed as more Auxiliaries emerged and made ready for their morning meal, providing further concealment. At 0645, lines began to loosely form and leading towards the barracks area of the citadel, the milling traitors providing abundant cover for our group. I remained in the shadows, out of sight of prying eyes, and, at 0647, my vox bead began to crackle as the teams began to report their success.
At 0658, we were at forty percent complete, my leg bouncing in anticipation. At 0702, Xypha informed me that Benny was making his move towards the CP. By this point, the line was halfway through, with those who had gotten their food either moving into the barracks or taking their disposable plates around the CP. I stepped back further into my cover and changed my attire back to my Fusilier uniform. At 0713, we were almost done; three groups remained, including Geo's.
As I observed the traitors and idly listen to the vox chatter, a pair of Gue'vesa came sprinting from the warehouses towards the citadel, one of them holding something in his hands. I squinted at the pair, peering at them until the object came into focus. It was a Fusilier flak vest, a vox line dangling from it, and a green light blinking on the receiver unit. They could hear us.
"All stations, all stations," I said over the vox, my heart now pounding, "traitors have access to our comns, I say again traitors have access to our comns, break, everyone finish what you're doing and proceed to contact points. Enact vox silence, out." I took another deep breath and looked at my watch; 0715. As the two traitors ran towards the citadel, an alarm klaxon went off on schedule.
"Alert; Imperial armor inbound, repeat, Imperial armor inbound. Gue'vesa companies 1-6 man your battlestations, companies 7-9 prepare to counterattack. Repeat-," a voice said over an intercom, cut off by the sudden hushed voice of Geo on the Vox.
"Russ," her voice a low whisper, "I'm made."
"Define," I said, breaking the silence.
"My team got eyeballed by a Fire Warrior on patrol; now we're stuck at the charge point." I swallowed hard at that report.
"Affirm, can you pull away?"
"Negative, we're here…I think I hear them coming down the gantry."
"Copy that, all stations, is anyone near-"
"Russ…clack it," Geo's voice was firm and resolute; there was no wavering or doubt in it.
"Geo, we can-"
"Set them off, damn you! We didn't come this far just to- shit!" Her voice was cut off as the sound of a pulse rifle went off and the line went dead. My mouth was suddenly very dry, the detonator resting in my front pouch feeling very heavy. All the same, I reached down, pulled it out, and flipped the cap open.
"All stations, all stations, cover-cover-cover! Detonating, detonating, detonating," my voice as mechanical as the Adept and her Rangers. As the last word left my lips, my thumb fell down on the detonator switch, and it gave a solid CLICK! For an agonizingly long moment, there was nothing, and my stomach did a somersault as I feared it had all been for nothing. Then
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The air was filled with the roar of nearly a hundred krak, melta, and homemade blasting charges exploded, popping generators and igniting ammo dumps. A concussive roar and wave rolled through the CP, hitting me square and the chest and knocking me backwards. Multiple smoke plumes erupted into the sky, clouding the air with thick, gray smog. I got to my feet quickly, saw the rising smoke and flames around the towering citadel…and gave a wicked grin.
"All stations, all stations, fix bayonets and head to the holding point!" I barked into the vox and took off running, lasgun in hand, bayonet already affixed.
Traitors rose in confusion, some wounded, most not, but the blast had its effect. I raised the lasgun, snarling "For Geo," my anger still fueling me, set it to low power, and held down the trigger. Two traitors fell before the others could turn, and another three fell before the lasgun's power pack ran out of charge. I exchanged it for a fresh one and ran towards the airfield, the sounds of second and tertiary detonations rippling through the CP, followed by the blessed noise of lasguns. Through the smoke, Fusiliers ran, firing their weapons and gutting traitors on their way to their airfield.
Two-hundred-fifty some Fusiliers gunned their way toward the airfield, emerging through the smoke like flak-armored reapers. The traitors fell in droves or fled, confused and terrified of the sudden appearance of men and women they thought they had beaten, back from the dead and the wilds for vengeance. We surged among them, through them, and headlong down the ramp to the airfield.
Here is where the least number of teams had gone, in order to preserve the facility, and this is where resistance emerged. Ahead of me, two Guardsmen fell as four traitors opened fire with autoguns. A dozen angry lasguns retorted and the four traitors were quickly slain, allowing our surge forward to continue.
Our holding point was the middle left of the airfield, where the gate that would serve as the Regular's entrance lay. The teams assigned to the airfield were already storming the gatehouse and adjoining bastions, ensuring they were cleared so the Regulars' tanks and dismounted infantry could storm through. To the left and right of the gate sat five buildings that served as storage and office buildings that would serve as our defensive hardpoints. In between there and us: eight hundred feet of runway; half of the airfield, filled with cover and obstacles.
At the bottom of the ramp, I turned and looked back up, watching as the Fusiliers hurtled downwards. I keyed my vox, "Russ to Xypha, status on reinforcements, over?"
"Xypha to Russman, the Imperial vox net has lit up like a holy Titan, yet no one can give me an answer on whom is reinforcing you," Xypha reported, annoyance dripping from her voice.
"Copy, do we have an ETA on reinforcements, over?"
"Negative, however they are repositioning four vessels in orbit about Barr Maol. Time until orbit, three minutes."
"Copy, call me the moment we get an answer, out," I killed the line, the alarm klaxons of the base ringing ever louder now.
"All forces, man your battlestations! We are under attack, I repeat, we are under attack!" The voice called. I gave a wicked grin, imagining the utter confusion within the citadel as the Imperial Guard tore through the guts of their base. That grin fell as I saw heads appear on the citadel's walls; Fire Warriors and Gue'vesa rushing out with weapons.
"Move, move!" I cried to the Fusiliers, "Keep your heads down, move cover to cover!" As I spoke, pulse, las, and gunfire began to rain down in an inaccurate storm from the wall above, striking another four Guardsmen in the initial salvo. By this time, everyone had made it down the ramp and was committed to the fighting crawl towards our holding point. The lethal rain from the Tau and traitors made the trek slower than hoped; forcing us to dip, duck, dive, and dodge through the cover we had available to us. More and more of us began to be cut down from the hail, now joined by defenders from the CP gateway. As I turned to look behind me, I saw a smoke-gray form emerge, towering over all the others; a XV8 Crisis Battlesuit had joined the fray.
"Move! Move! Don't stop to think; just keep moving!" I cried, urging the Fusiliers forward towards our holding point. And then, just past our destination, flak-armored figures emerged, and the gate began to open; the teams had done their jobs! And as the doors grumbled wide, the Highland Hooter thundered through, its battle cannon turning forwards. BOOM! went the cannon, the shot impacting on the battlesuit's torso, gutting it, and throwing it backwards. A cheer went up amongst the Fusiliers as more of the armored column pushed forward, the infantry streaming out from behind them.
The column spread into an arrowhead as rounds landed all around them, the main guns of the Leman Russ tanks setting a thunderous tempo, the chatter and roar of heavy stubbers and heavy bolters filled the air. To my left facing the gate, a Hellhound raised its turret as far as it would go and let loose a jet of promethium flame. It reached the parapets on the walls, scorching and incinerating whatever armor, cloth, and flesh the hungry flames touched.
Things were going well, very well…now, quick question, have ya'll ever heard of Murphy's Law? Because what could have gone wrong, did.
Three more XV8 Battlesuits appeared at the top of the ramp, one firing a railgun at a Hellhound. The mass-accelerated slug impacted the heart of the Hellhound fuel tank, causing the tank, the crew, and fifteen Guardsmen around it to disappear in a roar of fire. Another Leman Russ attempted to counter with a mighty shot from its cannon, but the railgun totting Battlesuit sidestepped it and returned fire. The right treads were sheared off, causing the tank to slump to the side, disabled. The driver popped up from the hatch with a stubber in hand, but a Fire Warrior picked the unlucky driver off.
And, to top it all off, unbeknownst to me at the time, the flames from the aforementioned destroyed Hellhound were creeping closer to me, a spare pair of promethium drums, and unprotected five-by-five-by-three stack of HEAT shells *HEAT=High Explosive Anti-Tank*. Knowing what happened now comforts me; it makes me chuckle that, even in the supposed "advancement" of the Tau Empire, you still have to tell the lower enlisted not to leave that shit unprotected.
However, at that moment, one of the Fusiliers called to me; either seeing the flames or the fact that I was the only Guardsman in a twenty-five-meter radius around myself. I quickly realized how far away from friendlies I was as well and made to move back, pushing off in a half-crouch.
As I did so, several things happened at once: first, the defenders atop the walls leveled Voss-pattern grenade launchers down at us and fired. Second, a trio of mortars, as we later discovered, emplaced within the citadel zeroed in on us and fired. Third, the second of the trio of Battlesuits fired a salvo of Seeker Missiles into the area to disrupt or destroy our armor. And, finally, the piece de resistance, the flames reached the promethium, heating it, causing it to erupt and in turn cause the HEAT shells to cook off.
My half-crouched form was thrown in what felt like every different direction possible as overlapping detonations and concussion waves went off all around me and the world went black.
I. SHOULD. HAVE. DIED.
However, as anyone who reads this journal will be evidently aware… I lived.
I came into in a crater; my head was spinning at a thousand miles an hour, my body felt like it had been used as punching bag for an Imperator-class Titan, and I was deaf. I mean there was no high-pitched wail in the air, no pounding of concussive waves; I couldn't even feel vibrations anymore. Somehow, I had survived, though in the moment, I wish I had died to spare myself the agony of what felt like a personalized Exterminatus.
My helmet was still on my head though the visor was cracked, my lasgun had clung to me by my sling, and the bayonet was still on. I rolled onto my stomach, perhaps groaning in pain or not, I cannot remember. I tried to get to my knees, failed, then succeeded the second time. I tightly held the grip of my rifle as I raised a foot, placed it on the ground, and tried to stand. It was at this moment that the Tau decided to remind me that I was, in fact, in the middle of an attack; a pulse shot flashed diagonally across the front of my face. My single leg press to stand became a desperate fall backwards, landing heavily on a very achy back, and I must have groaned here.
I threw off my helmet, a high-pitched ringing now filling my ears as sound began to painfully re-enter my reality. As it came back, so too did the reality of combat, as several enemy soldiers had seen the lone Guardsman stand in the crater. I brought my head up to look around and found bullets, lasbolts, and pulses landing all around me; I threw myself to the side of the crater that sheltered against the wall as more explosions rocked the area, showering me with permacrete, metal, and dirt. In that hole in the ground, I clutched my rifle to my chest like a teddy bear, terrified, and I screamed.
At first, I was screaming because I was scared positively shitless; I was moving in one moment, in a hole the next, with gunfire all around me and no friends in sight. As I stopped screaming to take a breath, the rest of the situation hit me; the attack, my friends, everything came crashing back at once. The second scream was rage; how dare they try and kill me, when I had people relying on me?! I got angry, the anger fueling me again, and I leaned up, lasgun firmly in my arms. I poked it over the edge of the crater and fired at the first head I saw. I missed, but him and two others ducked into cover.
It was then I noticed two things, aided by the recovery of my hearing: first, that my vox was going absolutely mad, and second, that there were four traitors barreling down on me.
I hastily turned and squeezed off a shot at high power, the bolt catching the first in the thigh and throwing him down face first. I turned to the second, steadied myself, and put two bolts dead in his chest, sending him flying backwards. The third I hit in the shoulder and he spun like a top before falling. The final one had gotten the closest, dodging the two shots I send his way before leaping at me, bayonet lunging towards me. I stumbled back, still lethargic from being blasted around, and brought my own to bare, parrying the first thrust before setting myself.
We lunged at the same time; the determined Gue'vesa Auxiliary versus the enraged Freeport Fusilier engaging in a duel in the middle of firefight. Bearing in mind, this man hasn't fired a shot yet, meaning he was either out of ammo or just hellbent on running me through, so he was fully committed to the fight. As for me, I still half-deaf, still very much in pain, and really didn't want to be bayonet fighting in the middle of a firefight. I resolved to finish this quickly.
The first lunge told me this man was proficient with his weapon; he parried it aside and counterthrust, bayonet pointed at my chest. I sidestepped and went in again, angling for the auxiliary's belly. He stepped back and whacked me on the top of my head with the barrel of his lasgun, trying to stun me. I pulled away, my head pounding from the explosions, the smack to it, and with sheer annoyance. I tried to step further back and get my lasgun up to fire, but the auxiliary kept me close, his bayonet coming for my throat this time. I quickly flipped the lasgun in my hands so that the grip and mag-well faced up, pushed it upwards until I made contact with the auxiliary's lasgun, and kept pushing up.
His weight now shifted backwards, my opponent was now on the back foot and wide open; an opportunity I quickly exploited. Maintaining the same grip, I stabbed downwards, angling for where the neck met the chest. My bayonet broke the skin and pushed deep into his chest, blood pouring from the wound. The Gue'vesa dropped his weapon and clutched at the wound as he fell, trying to stem the tide of crimson. I grimaced at the man, shrugged apologetically, and fired a lasbolt into his head, ending his pain. It was at this point, as I dropped back into cover, that I finally attempted to listen to the madness of the vox net, only for Xypha's voice to cut across the channel.
"Xypha to Russ, Xypha to Russ, reinforcements inbound! Iron Angels inbound!" Came the hurried and excited voice of the adept. I frowned, my brain working to discern the meaning behind the term "Iron Angels", putting a fresh pack into my lasgun. I tried to half-stand again, to gain some semblance of what was going on around me, only for the parapets to my right to erupted in smoke and shattered rockcrete, and something screaming overhead.
"Shit!" I ducked down again, frustrated at my lack of progress. I tried again to get up, this time I stood fully, lasgun pointing towards the enemy, when something slammed into the ground behind me with a mighty CRASH! I turned, wondering what the hell had just happened, and gawked at the thing that had embedded itself in the earth.
A steel gray and black colored craft rested a mere few feet from my crater, a distantly familiar sigil of a black skull in a steel hand on white wings emblazoned on the front hatch. Said hatch opened with the hiss and whine of hydraulics, accompanied by movement from inside.
An Adeptus Astartes Drop Pod had landed right behind me, and from it strode a Venerable Dreadnaught.
"DOWN!" Boomed the voice of the Dreadnaught, and I obediently dropped back into the crater. His assault cannon roared; the noise close to the comforting sound of an A-10 Thunderbolt's main cannon; an almighty BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTT! I heard a general scream as the front ranks of the advancing Tau and traitors were obliterated. "Your zeal is admirable, Guardsman," the Dreadnaught said to me, "however, zeal is a poor substitute for firepower."
"Isn't that why we have you, my lord?" I found myself asking, still in awe of the Dreadnaught.
"Indeed it is! Now forward, we have traitors and xenos to slay!" The walker began its assault, moving around the crater and firing the whole way. Looking out at the airfield, I watched as other three other Drop Pods landed, disgorging three squads of Space Marines, and two Thunderhawk Transporters screeched down from the sky, depositing two Land Raiders and two Predator Tanks. These were Xypha's Iron Angels.
The first of the Predator tanks turned its battle cannon and fired within moments of landing, blowing through the first of the XV8's with ease. A Leman Russ quickly followed suit, emerging from cover behind the first of its destroyed comrades and firing into the second. As that XV8 fell, a Devil Dog flashed forward, its Melta Cannon firing, unleashing a howl that threatened to deafen anyone close by. The final XV8 fell, flames erupting across its body as it crumpled to the ground. With their destruction, the Iron Angels pressed their attack, the Astartes forming into wedges of overlapping fire, marching rapidly forward to meet the enemy.
"Russman to all stations, press the attack!" I called into the vox, my pain wiped away by excitement, "Today we fight with Angels!" A cheer erupted as the Fusiliers and Regulars chased after the Iron Angels Dreadnaught. The remaining Leman Russ tanks, Hellhounds, and the two Devil Dogs surged forward, bolters, flamers, and stubbers firing the whole way. Corporal Benny raced past me as I emerged from the crater, screaming as he sprayed the stubber. And, accompanying this whole mess, were the pipers of the Regulars. Bagpipes, played poorly, make you want to cut your ears off with a spoon; when played properly, however, you feel like you can charge into hell itself.
With the sound of gunfire, explosions, cheers, screams, battle cries, bagpipes filling the air, and hearing returned, I waved my comrades forward before following the Dreadnaught. The Iron Angels Marines advanced ahead of us, forming a line in-step with the Dreadnaught, the sound of their bolters drowning out the screams of their foes. We Guardsmen filled in the gaps, advancing behind them and our own armor, picking off whatever targets were left over. The traitors were stunned by the sudden loss of the battlesuits, and their dazed distraction became our opportunity.
The Iron Angels seemed to fight with one mind; their bolters pulverizing the Tau line with precise fire, joined by the massed fires that came from the Regulars and Fusiliers. The tanks followed quickly behind us, the two Land Raiders unleashing an additional twenty Iron Angels into the battle, these armed with a variety of weapons such as heavy bolters and Astartes grenade launchers. Their leader was quickly made apparent; a Marine with gold-trimmings around his armored collar and a pair of golden wings on his shoulder. On his left knee, however, he wore a familiar symbol; the sigil of the Deathwatch.
I shook the curiosity from my mind; refocusing on the battle at hand, for it was still indeed a battle. The addition of the Iron Angels had evened the odds, but the standard Fire Warrior was capable of besting an Astartes in ranged combat due to their weaponry. It was those same Fire Warriors that now engaged us from the top of the ramp; flashes of bright light followed by murderous pulses of plasma began to rain down upon us. A pair of Regulars to my left were thrown to the ground, one with a hole in his chest, and the other missing half of her head.
"Theta Team, engage hostiles, saturation pattern!" The Lieutenant ordered. Those Iron Angels with grenade launchers advanced, proceeding to drown the top of the ramp and the gateway with frag grenades. The thwonk!-thwonk!-thwonk! of the launchers was quickly followed by a rapid series of concussive detonations and screams, which the Dreadnought took as the sign to advance. "1st Platoon, secure the gateway!" The Marines advanced up the ramp while the Lieutenant turned to us. "Guardsmen, who commands here?"
"I do, sir; Corporal Ald Russman, 1st Freeport!" I stepped forward, the Angel preforming a double take when he heard and saw my rank, "All of our leadership is dead, sir; I stepped up."
"Very well; your tanks are to be our rearguard, hold them here. As for the rest of you," the Lieutenant addressed the remaining infantry, "I shall not fault you if you leave the fighting to us; my brothers and I are more than capable of finishing this fight."
"Like hell, milord; we started the damn thing, we're finishing it!" Benny called from the rear of the group; the sentiment echoed by the rest of us.
"You do your regiments proud," the Lieutenant nodded approvingly, "now follow me!" We ascended the ramp behind the Astartes, following them into the smoking center of the Tau CP.
It had become exactly what I had hoped it would be; a murder bowl. The teams I had emplaced in the guard towers still fought on, raining lasbolts and stubber bullets down onto the defenders. Across the courtyard, I saw and heard the crack of Galvanic rifles as Dende and Jovox fought alongside the Fusiliers, and I keyed my vox.
"Russman to Xypha, you still standing, over?" I asked.
"Xypha to Russman, I still function with the blessing of the Omnissiah," Xypha replied, "I am still in contact with Adept Crede; the Iron Angels have begun a region wide assault on heretic and xenos forces. Forces from the 1st Freeport have also been routed to your location."
"Russ to Xypha, good copy, stay safe, out," I cut the line and observed the battlefield. The arrival of the Iron Angels had forced the Tau to switch from regaining ground to retaining it, pulling back to the entryways to the citadel and digging in. Lines of Gue'vesa Auxiliaries and Gun Drones ringed the citadel, with Fire Warriors taking commanding or marksman positions behind them. The Iron Angels took cover where they could, whilst their Dreadnought served as a hulking battering ram, its assault cannon raking the enemy with heavy fire.
Through all of this, I saw him: the Huntsman. I watched his figure retreat into the citadel, followed by a shorter Fire Warrior.
"We going after him?" Si asked from next to me.
"Revenge sounds nice," Hob said, reloading his stubber.
"Revenge is a fools game, boys," Eddie said, reloading his lasgun, "and its lucky we're all a bunch of damned fools."
"I'm game if all of you are," Irv piped up.
"So am I," Vic agreed.
"Then what are we waiting for? Follow me," I said, my eyes finding our entry point. A stack of crates and debris from the detonations formed a convenient if rough path up to the wall, which was lower on this side of the CP. I moved towards it, motioning for others to follow and grabbing stubber gunners. We ascended the pile to the top of the wall, all while under fire from the Tau lines. As one of the gunners ascended, the pile shifted, the crate the Guardsman stood upon tilted to the left. He yelped as he lost his balance, swinging his arms to try and regain it. An Iron Angel saw this and shifted, slamming his bulk into the pile, supporting it with his weight.
"Go, Guardsmen!" He barked, firing his bolter, holding his ground. The rest of us scrambled up the pile to the wall, allowing the Marine to pull away, the pile collapsing in a heap.
"Gunners, here, here, and here!" I barked, positioning the stubber gunners on the wall overlooking the Tau positions, "Fire Warriors and sergeants are priority targets! Fire in bursts and preserve ammo!" The gunners nodded, mounting on the wall and firing down into the Tau.
We moved past them, finding a conjoining spar between the wall and the citadel, through a section of the wall one of the Hellhounds had scorched. I moved past what looked like a heap, then paused as it shuddered. A traitor auxiliary looked up at me, his entire body, save for a patch of skin around his left eye, covered in burns. The single eye looked up at me, pleadingly.
"Leave it," Si hissed, seeing the maimed traitor. Wordlessly, I hefted my lasgun, and the eye bobbed up and down. "He's not worth-" I fired a bolt into his skull, and the body slumped forward.
"Keep moving," I ordered, and we moved to the spar. A squad of Fire Warriors appeared on the wall, making ready to fire on the advancing Guardsmen and Marines. I raised my rifle and squeezed the trigger, dropping the first. Si followed with the second, Irv the third, Eddie the fourth, and Hob hosed the rest in stubber rounds.
"Aw, fuck!" Hob swore. I turned and watched as he threw his stubber off the spar, "Round cooked off and blew; damn thing's worthless now."
"Here, got this," Irv said, tossing Hob a laspistol. The sidearm looked comically small in the big man's hands and he gripped it awkwardly.
"Let's keep it moving," I said, stacking up on the door. We breached inside, finding two confused Auxiliaries fumbling around. Two lasbolts corrected their confusion, and we took stock of the space; a small arms room for those headed out onto the wall. I pushed straight to the door, only stopping when Vic gave a low whistle.
"Hey Hob…how tough is your shoulder?" He asked. I turned, following Vic's gaze to a table. A Bolter, smaller than those wielded by the Astartes, sat on the table.
"Oooo, I know this!" Hob said excitedly, more so than I had ever seen. "It's a Godwyn De'az pattern!"
"A what?" Eddie asked.
"It's like a smaller bolter; the Sisters use them all the time!" Hob explained, returning Irv's laspistol and hefting the bolter, "which means it's juuuust right for me."
"You sure your shoulder can handle it?" I asked as he loaded a nearby magazine. On que, the door into the citadel opened, and a Fire Warrior stepped into the room. Too late, he realized who he was with, raising his pulse rifle to fire. Hob's bolter halted his motion; putting a baseball sized hole through the Tau's torso and sending him back through the doorway.
"Pretty sure, boss," Hob answered, chuckling.
"Then let's continue," I shouldered my lasgun and pushed further inside the citadel.
Emergency lights pulsed dimly in the citadel's corridors and the sounds of rushing feet and raised voices could be heard throughout the CP. The hallway was wide enough for three people to stand side by side, so myself and Hob took the lead. It didn't take long for auxiliaries to run into us, and they were quickly cut down by lasgun and bolter. We advanced slowly, steadily, looking for a stairwell or an elevator to head up to where we assumed the command center was. We rounded a bend, finding ourselves in a circular room with five exits, and a board on the centermost wall.
"They have a bloody directory," Eddie said, chuckling. I inspected the directory, which presented a sketch of the citadel, marked with symbols indicating levels of clearance based upon rank, level, and standing. Of course, the Command Center, located on the 18th floor, was restricted to the Fire Warriors and the Huntsman's appointed staff. Six levels below that sat a series of landing pads for shuttles and scout craft, which was the furthest we could get in the nearby elevator.
"Do we really want to try and take the elevator?" Vic asked.
"Do you wanna climb all the way to the top?" Hob asked. We moved to the elevator and punched in the 12th floor, ascending from the third floor. Here's something I learned about elevators mid-battle; unless it has a view of the fighting outside, they are a total mood-killer. The ride up rekindled the aches and pains across my body, causing me to grimace.
"You okay?" Irv asked.
"I'll live, but I'm feeling that explosion from earlier," I answered. Si chuckled.
"Maaan, you looked like a damn ragdoll when you got hit earlier," he snickered.
"Glad you were so concerned with my wellbeing," I retorted, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Nah, he was actually worried! I swear he shed a tear when someone told him you were dead!" Eddie said.
"Fuck off," Si snapped, and the elevator doors opened.
"What is the meaning of this, you should-" Came the voice of a Tau Fire Warrior as the doors opened. Hob's bolter silenced him, and our lasguns silenced the surrounding Gue'vesa. Exiting the elevator, we found ourselves embroiled in a firefight; the immediate hallway was crawling with…gray armored Gue'vesa? Those who fought down on the ground wore yellow, but these bore the colors of the Huntsman with a symbol of three orbs under the Tau sigil.
"Great, elite troops?" Eddie called as he slammed his body against a wall.
"Looks like it!" Si said, pulling a frag grenade from his vest, "But it's hard to be elite when you're full of metal!" He pulled the pin, counted to three, and threw it; detonating mid-air between four of the Gue'vesa. Blood, bone, gore, and fragmentation splattered the hallway, and we pushed through their remains. Hob formed the backbone of our assault, his De'az pattern bolter dominating the halls with its reports.
Progress was slow; these Gue'vesa were well trained, but were clearly in a security and guard stance, rather than a proper unit; armed with laspistols and autopistols. Their weapons didn't give us the problems, instead their tactics and coordination did, and it became a grind moving forward. We, however, had a few things they didn't; namely a bolter and several grenades, which we used liberally.
We came to the outer edge of the twelfth floor, with windows facing out. I couldn't spare a glance outside as I dove for cover, a Tau pulse carbine hissing in my direction. Hob reloaded his bolter and came around the corner, undaunted by the weapons fire surging down the hall. He fired three shots, two of which found their targets, while the third shattered a window, then took cover behind a pillar.
Si came after him, bent low, his body as small as he could make it. He seemed to slither towards the enemy, finding cover behind a further pillar and putting a low-powered burst into a Gue'vesa before slinking away. We kept pushing forward, the bolter sending most of the Gue'vesa scrambling for cover, allowing us to continue to close and engage them. As I approached a T-junction in the hallway, a squad of the Gue'vesa turned the corner, firing wildly, forcing me to cover.
I peeked out, looking for an opportunity to strike, when I saw an interesting sight; a human male clad in the trappings of an Imperial Governor Militant, colored smoke gray and yellow, rushed past, his face a snarl of frustration. Another surge of gunfire forced me back into cover, Vic hosing the junction on low power.
"Protect the Lord Peer!" One of the Gue'vesa called. The traitors held their line as the "Lord Peer" moved across. Hob swung from cover and held down the trigger on his bolter, killing two and the sending the rest scrambling for cover. Irv came up from behind and hurled his last grenade, briefly obscuring the junction with a mixture of smoke and gore.
"Xypha to Russman, incoming request," the Tech Adept spoke in my heard.
"Request? Who the fuc-"
"This Inquisitor Helena Levant of the Ordo Hereticus, do you read me?" Came a vaguely familiar voice.
"Because of fucking course the Inquisition would show up," I thought as made my response, "This is Corporal Russman, I read you my lady, how can I assist, over?" I replied, gulping.
"Levant to Russman; I am arriving via Valkyrie to the xenos command post and I require a landing pad; you will provide me one," the Inquisitor ordered firmly.
"Understood ma'am; we can provide a landing pad on the 12th floor of the command post, over."
"That shall suffice, Levant out."
"Russ?" Came Vic's curious voice.
"We've got an Inquisitor requesting a landing pad," I answered, "Let's get her one!"
"I've got one opening up riiiiiiiiiiiii-ght now!" Si called. I heard the distant whine of a shuttle taking off and leapt forward.
"Let's get it!" I called. We moved quickly, getting out into the open air, the wind faster and louder than down below. A pair of Fire Warriors held the pad and were quickly dispatched by lasbolts. "Russman to Inquisitor Levant, landing pad is clear, I say again, pad is clear, break, pad is occupied by six friendly Guardsmen, over."
"Levant to Russman, acknowledged, clear the pad, out," as she spoke, a Valkyrie hurtled into the CP's immediate air space…the image of a Sister of Battle emblazoned on the side.
"NO FUCKING WAY!" Si cackled, "She's coming in the Sister?!" The Imperial Sister bolted for our landing pad, maneuvering in a way only Billy Godfrey could move her. As her rear ramp turned towards us, it descended, revealing the occupants of the aircraft; nine Inquisitorial Tempestus Scions disembarked, followed by…
"You. Have. Got. To. Be. Shit-ting. Me." I thought. The woman I had met as Amanda Hunters on Grunnur, clad now in power armor, wielding a Power Sword and a Plasma pistol, stepped off the Imperial Sister as Inquisitor Helena Levant of the Ordo Hereticus. She was fair skinned, with silver-blonde hair, and blue eyes that could pierce someone's soul. "Great, hot woman in power armor, there's another kink."
"Well, well, look who it is," said one of the Storm Troopers, their face plate moving up to reveal the wizened face of the Scion sergeant from Grunnur.
"Pleasantries later, Sergeant Tate," Levant said, "Corporal Russman?"
"Yes ma'am," I said, moving to attention.
"We are in a battlefield, Corporal, formalities can be left behind," Levant stated, moving past me, "I am pursuing information regarding a Lord Peer Percival Kiltrecht; you will aid me in finding this intelligence."
"Lord Peer, ma'am?" I asked.
"Yes, have you heard the term?" Levant asked, turning her head to look at me.
"Yes ma'am…he took off from this landing pad not five minutes ago," I said. The Inquisitor visibly paused.
"Oh no," one of the Storm Troopers whispered. Levant's body whipped around, reached me in a single stride, grabbed me by my collar, and pulled me close to her face.
"You are absolutely, positively certain of this?!" She hissed in my face.
"As certain as I can be ma'am; we fought his personal guard as he fled!" I insisted.
"EMPEROR DAMNIT!" She cried, wringing my flak collar even harder. There was an audible SNAP! as her power-armored hands broke my collar armor. She released me and threw her hands up in the air.
"I-I'm sure there's intel on him in the command center, ma'am," I stammered out, "that's where my team is headed."
"Acceptable," Levant turned away from me and began briskly walking into the CP. I stood, dumbfounded by the near childishness of the outburst and the neck-snapping shift to professionalism I had witnessed.
"Ya get used to it," Sergeant Tate muttered to me, "Guardsmen, fall in on me." We fell to the rear of the Scions as they matched their mistress's pace. "What's your business in the command center, Guardsmen?"
"Bodies are bodies and weapons are weapons; ask not their intent," Inquisitor Levant ordered. Ignoring this, I moved up to Sergeant Tate to explain.
"We believe the Tau commander is in the command center, Sergeant; we were going after him," I said. Even through the visor, I could feel the Scion's eyes narrow at me.
"And why is that?" He pressed.
"Personal business of a sort," I answered, shrugging. Tate, either divining my meaning or having done something similar in days past, nodded in understanding. I fell to the rear of the formation with my team, and we re-entered the CP.
"What floor are we going to?" Levant asked.
"Eighteenth floor ma'am; six more up," Vic answered, "the elevator won't take us any further."
"The God-Emperor gave us legs for a reason, Guardsman, we shall take the stairs," Levant stated. "Sergeant Tate, a man to each stairwell entrance, we've no time to clear each floor."
"Yes ma'am; Scion Priestly, take this level."
"Righto, sir!" The stairwell up sat locked near the elevators; the fact it was locked meant nothing to a Scion's Hellgun. Scion Priestly positioned himself just inside the stairwell, weapon point out and down as the rest of us made the ascent. Five more Scions set in place as we made our way to the eighteenth floor, leaving thirteen Scions, Guardsmen, and an Inquisitor to storm the floor.
"Scion August, breaching charge," Tate ordered. The Scion stepped forward, producing the charge, attached it to the door, and stepped back, detonator in hand.
"On your mark, ma'am," August said. Levant activated her Power Sword, the five-foot longsword sparking and snapping loudly in the stairwell, and she nodded. "Detonating, detonating, detonating." The charge exploded, and the Inquisitor strode confidently through the smoking doorway, plasma pistol charging and firing. The Scions, led by Tate, went after them, and we followed.
The hallway was already a blur of motion; Fire Warriors scurried and scrambled about, finding or making cover before engaging, alongside…Tau Storm Troopers?! Tempestus Scions in the gray of the Huntsman's retinue returned fire with pulse carbines and Hellguns, using our allies' tactics against them. This, however, seemed to embolden and enrage Levant's retinue, who surged forward, headless of the danger to them. Two traitors fell to a single burst from a loyal Scion, who ducked into cover as their comrades fired after him. This is when we entered the fray.
I entered first, taking stock of the situation, and was followed quickly by Hob. In a twist of irony, it was neither the Inquisitor nor the Scions who set the tone of battle, it was the humble Hob with his bolter; the De'az pattern booming in the thirty-yard corridor. Where an Inquisitor in power armor clung to cover and Scions in carapace armor shot from behind doorways, Hob marched forward. A Fire Warrior's chest blew open from a shot, showering another in gore. A traitor Scion's head was demolished; punishment for peering out of cover for too long. The bolter's fearsome report forced many to cover and drew attention; attention that allowed us to push forward.
"Vic, Si, Eddie, Irv, forward!" I barked, hefting the bayonet on my lasgun. In these close quarters, our M36 Kantrael lasguns couldn't compete with the Hellguns and Carapace Armor of the traitors, but our bayonets sure as hell could. With cover from Hob and the Scions, we sprinted forward, bent low to avoid incoming fire.
I was first, closing with a Fire Warrior with a pulse pistol; he peered from cover, saw me, and tried backpedaling. I vaulted his cover, bayonet sinking deep into the Tau's neck, and drove him to the ground. A traitor Scion swung from cover, leveling his Hellgun at me, when Si collided with him, jabbing into the space between his torso and hip armor. He fell, trying to club Si with the Hellgun, but the ex-ganger stepped back and drove the bayonet into his throat. Eddie and Vic tagged teamed a second Fire Warrior, Eddie's bayonet going into the thigh with Vic thrust into the visor. All the while, Hob strode forward, bolter firing.
Eventually, the weapon had to be reloaded; Hob stepping into cover to swap magazines. In his absence, perhaps feeling slighted by mere Guardsmen stealing the show, Inquisitor Levant took his place, her plasma pistol charging and discharging, vaporizing the lower torso of a Scion. Her personal guard surged around her, Sergeant Tate moving alongside her, Hellgun firing.
A pulse from a rifle flashed towards the Inquisitor and was intercepted by one of her bodyguards loyally stepping in front of her. I watched as the body fell past the Inquisitor, her ice-eyes flashing with cold fury. Her plasma pistol quickly avenged the fallen Scion. Two more Fire Warriors and three more traitor Scions fell before we reached the opened doors of the command center, which was manned by a spindly Tau and two stockier Tau.
"Guardsmen, take them," Levant ordered. The trio raised their hands in surrender as we quickly bound their hands and patted them down. The Inquisitor holstered her plasma pistol, withdrew a device with a skull affixed to the front, moved to the central most console of the room, and placed it there. "Data Interrogator set; hold position."
"Affirmative; what should I do with our Scions in the stairs?" Tate asked.
"Withdraw them, we can utilize the elevator to get back down," Levant said, tapping her foot impatiently as she deactivated her power sword.
"Russ," Vic called, "I'm not seeing the Huntsman anywhere." Indeed, aside from the three Tau present, there was no one else in the room. Said room was semi-circular in nature, with windows lining the perimeter for it. Consoles sat in four rows of varying height, with a command table in the center. Catwalks sat outside, allowing for someone to exit and preform maintenance if need be.
"He got away then; we'll worry about him later," I said begrudgingly. The three Tau were set in front of the Inquisitor in a kneeling position, whom she ignored, focusing on the interrogator.
"And this Huntsman is?" She proceeded to ask.
"Local Tau commander, ma'am," I answered, "he was the one who decimated my unit on arrival."
"That's not enough to warrant a revenge strike," Tate noted with a tinge of doubt in his voice.
"He killed my sergeant," I shrugged again. There was a drone as the interrogator finished its work and Levant went to retrieve it. I looked over, glancing at the Tau on the floor, then noticed them looking out the right-side windows. I followed their eyes, when
PING!
"Everybody down!" I roared and hit the floor. The Inquisitor and two Scions gave me a quizzical glance, whilst Sergeant Tate, the other three Scions, and my team dropped to the ground. The right side of the command center erupted in pulse fire; the two standing Scions killed instantly. The Inquisitor, on the other hand, was grazed by a pulse, spun around, hit her unarmed head on a terminal, knocking her unconscious, dropping her power sword.
"Everyone out!" Tate bellowed, kneeling and providing cover fire. I did the same, resting my lasgun on a console and firing at the oncoming Fire Warriors. Two fell as a third fired at me. I threw myself backwards, the pulse catching the barrel of my lasgun and destroying it and the bayonet, leaving me with naught but a laspistol.
"Go!" I barked to me team. Hob was first, grabbing the heavy, power-armored form of the Inquisitor and hauling her out, followed by the rest. The three Scions followed suit, and I made to follow, when I realized something: the data interrogator lay unclaimed on the floor.
As I passed it, I went to scoop it up when a pulse blast sizzled past me, causing me to jump backwards, off balance. I fell, nabbing the interrogator, landing next to the power sword, which sat deactivated. I grabbed it too, hooking the interrogator to my belt, and I stood to run. The Scions went to cover me, but the door, activated by some unseen force, closed in front of us. I turned to face my attackers…and there he was.
The Huntsman stood before me, seemingly unarmed, the Fire Warrior he had come into the command center with standing behind him to his right.
It was here, standing not ten meters away, that I noticed something interesting about his armor; unlike standard Fire Warrior, it seemed to have hydraulics attached at the limbs, limb actuators at the joints, and something attached to his right arm. As I hefted the power sword, I discovered what that something was; it swung forwards, the shape of a broad Dao coming into view, and it sizzled to life; a Tau Power Sword. *DAO: On old Terra, a Chinese slashing sword, either in the form of a saber or a broadsword. In this case, the latter.*
"Well, that's new," I muttered. As I spoke, it became blindingly apparent how outclassed I was; the Huntsman sprang forward, the blade sparking in a downward slash. I quickly reignited the Inquisitor's power sword and blocked, barely holding back the power-armored form of the Huntsman. He pulled back wordlessly and began a blurring series of slashes and cuts that tested my reflexes. Whereas he wielded his sword as an extension of himself, I might as well have been fighting with a baseball bat. The second Fire Warrior stood back, watching, hefting a carbine in their hands.
Yeah, Tau being good at melee; truly dark times I had on my hands.
At the end of the assault, the Huntsman unleashed a final slash that breached by defenses. I reeled backwards as the blade sliced into my flak armor, peeling it back.
"Thank God that didn't hit…THE MELTA CHARGE!" With a thunderous thought, the backup charge came back to the fore of my mind. I leapt back and glanced behind me; the window was blown open, the catwalk railing melted away… and there was another within jumping distance. I swiveled my gaze back to the Huntsman.
"Wanna see a magic trick?" I asked, citing an ancient meme from old Terra. The two Tau were suitably confused by my antics, "Good! Abracadabra!" Faster than I believed possible, I withdrew the melta charge from its place in my sagging armor, cranked the time dial to six seconds, primed it, and hurled it onto the ceiling. It blessedly stuck and beeped once; the Huntsman and his escort understood what it was. We turned in opposite directions, the Tau out the way they came and me to my escape route, and we fled the CP. I cleared the window, deactivated the power sword, and leapt through the melted railing, pin-wheeling my arms as I jumped.
Unfortunately, I had made a minor miscalculation; namely a thing called the blast wave. The melta charge detonated, blowing the command center apart, and sending out a wave of force that nudged me forward. My own escape became certain death as the wave pushed me over the second catwalk. I tired desperately to hook it with my boot, but it was too late. I was sent careening over the catwalk as my descent to the courtyard below began.
"SHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTT!" I screamed, pin-wheeling my arms harder as I attempted to fight the laws of physics, trying to find away to survive. I hurtled downward, passing the seventeenth, sixteenth, and fifteenth floors in a flash, descending through now smoky air. At the nineth floor came salvation.
THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD
I turned my gaze as my descent neared a balcony on the nineth floor. The armored form of the Iron Angels' lieutenant leapt from the now broken balcony, a hand outstretched to me.
"WHAT THE-?" I screamed as the Marine caught me one-handed, curling me into his chest.
"Hold on!" He barked. Our combined descent took us to space between two walls of the CP, which the Lieutenant used to slow his descent, digging his hand into one wall, then leaping to the next, switch me between his arms like a ragdoll. It felt like a rollercoaster back on Earth, and all I could do was whoop and laugh in hysteria and disbelief. His armored boots slammed with force into the permacrete floor of the courtyard, ending the fall. "Are you alright?"
"Better than I would have been," I answered, falling from his arms to the ground. I shook with fear and adrenaline at the face of certain death. "Thank you, sir."
"Save it for later… we have company," the Marine said, drawing a chainsword. I raised my eyes; we had landed in an area that was ringed by debris from the initial blasts, upon which sat the Kroot. Ten of them gazed down upon the Astartes and the Guardsman. "Can you fight?"
"Always," I answered, my foot nudging something. Looking down, I recognized the form of a shotgun clutched in the hands of a Gue'vesa. My early experience told me I had no business wielding the longsword. "Sir, I think you can use this better," I held out the power sword. The grip was just big enough for the Marine to use, and he accepted it, igniting it and revving the chainsword. I looked over and noted a small symbol engraved upon the large pommel; the dragonhead of the Salamanders.
"Question for you, sir," I asked as the Kroot slowly moved around us, twirling their hunting staves in anticipation, "you wouldn't have happened to have been on Freeport during its evacuation?"
"I was, though under different colors," the Lieutenant answered, "why?"
"I was just wondering if you were same Brandt that gave sir Tectus his chainsword," I said, picking up the shotgun and the former owner's bandolier. Lieutenant Brandt chuckled.
"Indeed; you were one of his charges, no? I thought his little mission pointless, though it seems not."
"No sir; we made it off." I racked the slide of the shotgun in response, the Kroot suddenly freezing in place, ready to pounce.
"Then in honor of my friend Tectus, I will endeavor to ensure your survival," Brandt said, leveling the power sword at the Kroot. "Stay behind me, Guardsman; Upon My Iron Sides, All Blades Shall Break!" With the battle cry of his chapter, he charged the Kroot, and they leapt at him, staves raised.
I obeyed Brandt and remained behind him, sighting in a Kroot trying to circle the Iron Angel and fired. The shotgun blast, which I now found to be slug rounds, penetrated the Kroot's leathery skin and killed it. I racked the slide, found another target, and fired. By the time I killed the second, Lieutenant Brandt had killed five of the original ten. As the last three leapt back, the next wave of fifteen joined them. I watched as Brandt charged, heedless of the danger, catching one with a slice of the power sword and sawing another with the chainsword.
As he fought, I moved behind him, watching his flanks for the Kroot. They came in pairs, which necessitated me backing away from Brandt, making space so I could engage. I pivoted right, fired, missed, racked a slug, fired again, and killed. The unpaired Kroot squawked in anger and came it me in quick bound, and I blasted it out of the air. The other pair had reached Brandt's right side; one cut at his power pack, another at his knee joint. The Marine pivoted, catching them both with a backward swing of his chainsword, leaving him exposed. A Kroot leapt, planting its feet on Brandt's shoulders, raising its staff.
CHUK-CHUK-BOOM! Went the shotgun and off flew the Kroot. I racked the slide, sighted in another, pulled the trigger, CLICK! Empty! My hands flew to the bandolier, sliding in the shells as fast as I could. Another six Kroot, their final reserve, joined the fray as I reloaded, Brandt scything through them as they came. Then they got smart; two pinned his right arm, three his right, and the remain eight proceed to tackle the Marine. He fell to the ground with a loud CLANK-THUD! of ceramite. Six shells entered the shotgun, I racked the slide, slotting a shell, slammed in a seventh in the new space, and fired at the ones at his arms.
One Kroot fell, followed by another, and Brandt's arm swung in retribution. I racked the slide and shot another, then pivoted as a Kroot came for me. It didn't swing its staff, instead slamming into me and shoving me to the ground. The shotgun flew from my hands as the Kroot screeched, towering over me. My laspistol was in my hands and I fired upwards, catching the Kroot in its beaked mouth. It stumbled back and I fired again and again until it fell. I scrambled to a knee, leveled the pistol and fired into the mass of Kroot on Lieutenant Brandt until the gun clicked empty. I tossed it aside, scrabbling for the shotgun, but there was no need. Brandt grabbed and threw Kroot off him, getting to a knee, grabbing another, and smashing it into the ground. Of our thirty-two assailants, six remained.
"Come! Feel the might of the sons of Ferrus Manus!" Brandt bellowed, retrieving his chainsword and charging the Kroot. One stood its ground, the rest fled out into the courtyard. Its staff broken under Brandt's chainsword, and he was sawed in two from head to talon. We stood, masters of our own battleground. "Well…fought," Brandt said, slightly panting. His armor was dented and scratched, one of the lenes of his helmet was cracked, but he was alive.
"You too, sir," I replied, observing the carnage. The Kroot were carved, torn, sliced, and shot through in various places around the ring, pools of their blood coagulating into one mass. "I never want to do that again."
"To tell the truth, I would have preferred my bolter," Brandt stated, "blasted Tau weaponry."
"Melt yours too, sir?"
"Indeed; my techmarine will no doubt have words for me," Brandt lamented, turning to me, "now, pray tell, what do you carry?" I remembered the data interrogator and pulled it from my belt; it was still blessedly intact.
"An Inquisitor's data interrogator, sir; she was using it in the CP."
"Then by all means, let us return it to her," Brandt gestured, and I followed, quickly collecting the discarded laspistol. Coming out of the ring of debris, I saw Valkyries depositing squads of Guardsmen and Skitarii alike, the red of the 1st Freeport clashing with the electric blue of the Skitarii. The sounds of fighting were minimal now, indicating the battle was almost won. As we left, I looked up to hear a droning sound; a Tau vehicle, colored smoke-gray, fled the CP. I could not see the occupants, but I had no doubt the Huntsman sat aboard.
Brandt led me into the greater courtyard, in which a ring of Valkyries had formed, including the Imperial Sister. We approached, entering the ring, and immediately sighted the towering form of Commissar Troy, which in turn indicated the presence of Brigadier General Königlich.
"My lord," Troy called, bowing his head slightly. The assembled turned to face the Astartes, including several Skitarii…and the Inquisitor, who stood with a bleeding cut on her forehead and a foul frown on her face.
"Ah, Greetings," Brandt said, and I realized he hadn't expected to find her so soon, "I believe this Guardsman has something for you, Inquisitor," and he stepped to the side, revealing me. There are few times where I have felt small in the gazes of others, and this was one. I defaulted to customs and courtesies, coming to attention and saluting.
"Corporal Russman reporting, ma'am; I believe you dropped this," I produced the data interrogator, Levant's eyes widening to saucers at the sight of it.
"How…," she approached, mindful of the eyes on her, and accepted the outstretched device. "You do your regiment proud, Corporal."
"I live to serve, ma'am," I answered simply. She nodded and turned to the Marine.
"I believe you also have something of mine, Lieutenant," she pointed to the power sword.
"It is a fine blade," Brandt handed it to her, "I confess I wish I had more time with it."
"Perhaps another time," Levant said. She nodded to Troy and the Brigadier, who immediately stepped toward me.
"Oh dear," I thought as Troy grabbed my shoulder and hauled me around the nearest Valkyrie.
"Report, Corporal," Königlich ordered, her tone firm. I came to attention again and briefed her; regaling the horrible landing, to our retreat, our discovery of the pump station, our infiltration, and the assault on the CP. Troy towered over me the whole way, his eyes never leaving my face, examining my every word and expression. When I was finished, he turned and nodded once to the general. "At ease, Corporal," she said wearily, and I folded my hands behind my back, "you have pulled off…something incredible today."
"Damned near unbelievable," Troy said. I was afraid he didn't believe me, but a wink from his dark eyes told me otherwise, "it is very rare that I find myself proud of the initiative of my Guardsmen, but today I-we are."
"Indeed," the Brigadier continued, "we feared the worst when the Imperialis broke orbit due to heavy fire and lost contact with the 4th."
"It's…about as bad as it sound, ma'am," I said, "the Huntsman targeted our command structure; Commissar Hildebrand was targeted, as was Lieutenant Apelles. We-"
"Correction; targeted and missed," came a familiar voice. Breaking my bearing, I whipped around to find the voice's origin. A ground of twelve stood off to the side, two of them being Sergeant First Class Volker Stadtlander and First Lieutenant Urbanus Apelles; the Redeye had lived, though his cybernetic eye was missing.
"Sir!" I said in surprise.
"Corporal," the Redeye returned, nodding and coming to attention as the lead officer did so. It was then I realized the leader was none other than our…illusive battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Richard Alsbury. I had only seen him up close once, and only briefly; this being the longest instance.
"Lieutenant Colonel Alsbury," he said, saluting the Brigadier, "reporting rescue from capture, alongside fifteen officers, thirty-two sergeants, and six hundred Fusiliers."
"Thank you, Richard," Königlich said, returning the salute, "Corporal Russman, you are dismissed for now."
"Thank you, ma'am," I immediately got the hell out of there; too many officers for a lowly corporal to be around. As I made distance between me and the cluster, a wave passed over me; exhaustion from, how long had it been? I checked my watch, now cracked so I could barely read it. It was 0859; I had been awake for only four hours, fighting for a little over one, and I felt like I had been at war for a decade. The aches and pains of being blown up, shot at, and tackled hit me like a brick, and I felt the need to collapse. I found that spot, coming in the forms of Hob, Vic, Eddie, Irv, and Si sitting in the rubble, clustered together. Hob leapt to his feet when he saw me.
"There he is!" He cried, lunging towards me and wrapping me in bear hug. I audibly moaned in pain as he lifted me off the ground.
"You're gonna kill me you damn Ogryn!" I hissed and he released me. My feet hit the ground and my vision swam, causing me to tetter on my feet. Eddie was next to me, putting my right arm over his shoulder.
"Easy, come on now," he said, guiding me to a seat. I gratefully took it, leaning back against the cracked permacrete, resting my head.
"Hob, look intimidating," Si said.
"What for?" Hob asked as my eyelids fluttered with the threat of sleep.
"So no one sees Russ sleeping," Si said, sitting next to me on my right and blocking me from sight. Eddie did the same on my left, and Hob stood in front, hiding me from sight and providing me with shade. My eyelids, fluttered, closed, opened, then slowly slid closed.
It was over.
We had won.
Barr Maol, our original objective, was firmly in Imperial hands.
And I took my well-earned reward of a good day's sleep.
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*And with that, this journal is almost complete! For any prying eyes, you will note this journal is incredibly small to contain nearly a decade's worth of experiences, and you would be correct in your assumption. One final entry shall follow this, which will mark this initial journal's end, and the beginning of the next.
As I finish this entry, however, I find myself…in difficult times. Even in the grim darkness of the closing 41st Millennium, there are hard times, and then…then there's the shit I've been through. And yes, at the time of this entry, Cadia has indeed fallen, and the Great Rift has opened. I can somewhat happily say I am on the "good side" of the Great Rift, so the fighting for Agementa hasn't been completely bogged down by daemons. However, the forces of the Ruinous Powers still maraud across this side of the Imperium, no matter how strong the Emperor and the Astronomican are. And, as it appears, Chaos has interest in Agementa, so, prying reader, stayed tuned!*