Chapter 16
Next morning, Army's Meadow was alive with activity. The entire 1333rd Cadian Regiment was assembled and formed in the main courtyard in front of the regimental headquarters. Each of the three companies were arrayed in crisp, tan winter fatigues and shining olive drab flak armour. All of their wargear was polished and blessed with holy ointments. Every man stood rigidly with his left arm straight against his side and with his right hand clutching the strap of his M36 Kantrael Pattern lasgun. Bayonets were attached under the barrel and glinted in the pale sunlight. Tiny white puffs appeared and disappeared in front of the men's mouths as they breathed in the chilly air.
The first platoon of every company was standing in the front ranks, with their commander and his team, consisting of the platoon sergeant, color bearer, medic, and Voxman, standing side by side in front. Right behind the first platoon was the second platoon, with their two leaders in front, creating a space between their front rank of Guardsmen and the last rank of Guardsmen in the first platoon. Arrayed in the same way was the third platoon, right behind the second. Behind each third platoon were the Heavy Weapons and Special Weapons platoon.
Arrayed behind the infantrymen were the other various personnel of the regiment. Dozens of Ministorum priests stood in full regalia and packs of menials which numbered nearly one hundred. Enginseers, accompanied by flocks of servitors, also stood by. With them stood five Sanctioned Psykers; each wore a gray trench coat and clutched a golden or silver staff bearing the Aquila at the top. Dispersed among the infantry companies were the few Commissars assigned to the regiment,
In front of the first platoon was the captain and their command staff, composed roughly in the same faction as the platoon command squads; first sergeants, executive officers, color sergeants, Commissars, priests, Voxmen, and other personnel.
Facing the entire regiment was Inquisitor Barlocke, Colonel Isaev, senior Commissar Ghent, the intelligence officer Captain Giles and his adjutant Lieutenant Eastoft, and a host of other staff officers. Each of the officers were wearing their tan, low-peaked soft cover hats.
On the main roadway that snaked its way across, all the Chimeras operated by the regiment were lined up in a column. Steam rose from hot, rumbling engines as the vehicles sat in front of the infantrymen Crews finished loading hull and pintle-mounted Heavy Bolters. Last minute inspections observed treads and turret rotation. The Leman Russ company seconded to the 1333rd Cadian Regiment, drawn from the 227th Cadian Armoured Regiment, consisted of ten main battle tanks. Five sat at the head of the column while the remaining five acted as a rearguard. All the tankers of the Second Company of 227th were grizzled, scarred, and their tan fatigues were covered with black grease stains.
It was an awesome display of power. To see active vehicles with invigorated Machine Spirits, bristling with weapons, combined with the full might of the regiment, was inspiring to a veteran Guardsmen like Marsh Silas. When fighting grew long and grueling all he had to do was look at the regiment in its power and grandeur. One look and his heart swelled with pride to call himself a Cadian Shock Trooper. At times, when he turned around and around, looking at the brave men he led, at the powerful machines of war at their disposal, he wanted to drop to his knees in thanks to the Emperor.
He was ready to go. Up in front of the regiment, he could see Barlocke smiling eagerly. When his dark brown eyes locked with Marsh's, they both nodded at each other.
Then, the Inquisitor stepped forward. His open, black trench coat shone in the sunlight and his silver, light power armour cuirass gleamed too.
"Men, before we jump off, I thought you would all appreciate one final display of the Imperium's might. Across the channel, the heretics have foolishly left their feeble craft at dock. They think us benign, blind, and dumb. Today, we show them we are anything but. Follow me."
After taking a cautious moment to look at each other and their undisturbed Commissars, the infantry followed Barlocke up the slope. Bloody Platoon was able to assemble around him, but most of the regiment had to stand on the beach defenses or clamber to high spots around the camp.
Just as he said, across the channel were the surviving watercraft the heretics used to travel between their holdfast and the mainland. At high tide, the boats were bobbing around the sagging, rotten wooden docks. Marsh Silas took out his magnoculars and peered at them through the scope. Little figures crawled up and down ropes and ladders like tiny, black insects. When he lowered his magnoculars, he found Barlocke beside him.
The Inquisitor turned on his heel to face the Basilisk battery below the slope. They were dug in across from the regimental headquarters. The Earthshaker Cannons were already high in the air and aimed towards Kasr Fortis. Every single artilleryman was at the ready, poised to load one of the mammoth shells and yank the cord. Only the battery commander, a captain, who had a face covered with ancient, rugged burn scars, was standing by.
In a swift, deliberate motion, Barlocke took his wide-brimmed Inquisitorial hat off and let his arm fall sharply to his side. The battery commander saluted, whirled around, and began barking orders. The loader slid a round into the breech and closed it. The gunner checked his trajectory again.
"Three, two one, fiiiiiiire!" the artillery captain cried, waving his hand towards Kasr Fortis. The gunner pulled the cord as hard as he could. Ba-whom! Murmurs rippled through the infantrymen as the spotting shell whistled away, flew over the channel, and landed right on a large fishing trawler. Instead of a great explosion, the shell fell with such velocity it cut right through the wooden vessel. With its back effectively broken, the ship soon split in half. Both middle ends immediately dipped in the water. Soon, the bow and stern were both sliding beneath the waves. The captain dropped his arm again. "Fire for effect!" he screamed.
Four Earthshaker cannons went off simultaneously. The combined concussion was so massive even at the top of the throat Marsh lost his breath for a moment. Some of the shells hit the dock or fell on the boats. This time, there were great columns of smoke and debris. Each of the wooden docks was so weak they were swept away by the force of the impacts, like brush thrown about by the wind. Smaller boats rocked in the channel water and some shattered into pieces from sheer ferocity of the rounds. Another volley was fired by the Basilisks. Once more, the docks disappeared into gray clouds of rockcrete dust, rockcrete chunks, wooden splinters, and seawater. One of the shells hit a larger boat's engine which erupted into a fiery explosion. When the fireball flew skyward, the whole regiment began cheering and whistling. Men took their helmets off and waved them, pumped their fists into the air, or held up their lasguns.
The barrage continued; rounds would hit, an impact cloud would rise, and then the explosion's report would echo across the channel. Each volley of shells struck in rapid succession. Boats exploded, broke, capsized, and sank. Heretics were thrown into the water and disappeared among the wreckage. Others were simply blown out of sight or into pieces. Large columns of white water shot upwards and descended on the burning wreckage.
By the time it ceased, the wooden docks were gone as was the rockcrete pier. All that remained was the steep, crated brown soil that led to the water. Each of the boats sank beneath the waves. Only planks of wood, frayed ropes, torn rigging, and bobbing metal slices from engines, sat on the surface. Before long, the current swept them away and out to sea.
Barlocke donned his cap and raised his hand to cut the cheering off.
"Jump off is in twenty minutes. Prepare yourselves men, we will not be returning to Army's Meadow for some time."
As the Inquisitor went to confer with the regimental command staff, Marsh Silas led Bloody Platoon down the slope back to the staging area. When they returned to the paved courtyard and the companies assembled, Bloody Platoon started checking their gear again. Men lit lho-sticks, drank from their canteens, or consumed the contents of a ration as they pooled their resources. They patted their rucksacks down, tightened their webbing, stuffed extra charge packs and autopistol magazines into their empty pouches. Frag and Krak grenades were arranged on their belts and bandoliers. A few taped magazines and charge packs to their ankles, biceps, and helmets. Scabbard containing trench or combat knives taped to more accessible spots, such as the forearm.
Even though they woke before dawn to prep their gear and run through the operational details one more time, the Shock Troopers wanted to be sure they were ready. They checked without orders from their sergeants, officers, or Commissarsđorders were unnecessary.
Walking with Lieutenant Hyram, Marsh Silas motioned towards the men.
"You see, sir, you gotta know what kinda men you're leading, here. All of these Shock Troopers are qualified veterans, even Drummer Boy. They've seen a lot o' action. But the most important thing is, you got a small number o' really smart fellows."
There was Honeycutt, he explained, the platoon medic. On top of his duties to care for the men both in and out of combat, he was in charge of the Field Chirurgeons in each squad. As well, he was one of several men who saw action outside of Cadia, making him an invaluable asset. While each squad possessed a Voxman, Drummer Boy was the Hyram's personal operator. Being a Voxman was more than just turning knobs, pressing buttons, and relaying messages; Drummer Boy was an expert technician who knew how to maintain and repair Vox-sets from helmet-mounts to communication banks. What's more, he knew all of the channels, frequencies, and call signs utilized on the network from individual squads within the regiment to Cadian High Command. Memorization was important as radio call signs shifted often, sometimes even daily.
Then there was Marsh's own close friend Arnold Yoxhall. On the surface, he was a demolitions expert but that did bestow proper dignity to his position. Many Veteran Guardsmen were proficient in demolitions from their experiences and in-field training. But Yoxhall attended Militarum schools on Cadia to learn how to be a combat engineer. While no enginseer, he was capable of repairing weapons and vehicles and was more than qualified for demolitions. In terms of their heavy weapons, the man with the most knowledge was Walmsley Major. While he seemed lacking as a tactician, he was versed both through training and experience in heavy weaponry. Whether it was an autocannon or Heavy Bolter, he knew how to fix them, clean them, and most importantly, deploy them. Heavy weapons tactics were an important aspect of an infantry platoon and he was capable of arranging their squads in support of the line troopers.
All of the men in the Special Weapons Squads were also noteworthy. Using anything from a long-las, like Bullard, to a plasma gun, like Hitch and Derryhouse, required higher degrees of training and weapon knowledge. As well, the non-commissioned officers in the platoonđHolmwood, Mottershead, Queshire, and Stainthropeđwere all expert Guardsmen who led soldier's lives. "Sergeants are the backbone of any platoon, sir. They've got the most time in, sometimes more than officers and can operate on their own in a fight; they've got a degree of, aut...auto..."
"Autonomy?"
"Yes, that's the one."
Lieutenant Hyram nodded attentively as he absorbed the information.
"A few very smart men, I understand," Hyram said attentively. "What does that make the others?"
"A bunch o' really mean fellows!" Marsh Silas replied with a proud grin. "These are men who know how to use a bayonet and aren't afraid of a close fight. They won't break easily and they'll fight tooth and nail to hold a position. Cadian Shock Troops are some of the best the Guard has to offer in the first place? But veterans? You're looking at expert soldiers, sir."
They stopped a short distance away from the men as they continued to pour over their wargear. Hyram hooked his thumb in a belt loop, smiled, and nodded.
"A few smart fellows, and a lot of mean ones." He turned to Marsh Silas and smiled. "What an excellent group to go to war with."
Marsh Silas's grin widened.
"Exactly."
"What else do I need to know about the boys?"
The smile dropped instantly. Marsh put a hand on Hyram's shoulder pauldron and stopped him.
"Sir, meanin' no disrespect, but don't be calling'em boys. They're men. Call'em men. Not so many Guardsmen get to live so long."
"Yes, quite right. Apologies."
Hyram looked embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck and his gaze fell to his boots. Pursing his lips for a moment, Marsh looked at him sighed.
"Sir, I'll tell you straight. If you could pick'em, these are the kinda men you'd be wanting to take to war. But if they had a pick o' officers, they would most certainly not pick you. But these are loyal men and they're good soldiers. You give them an order, they'll follow it. You tell them to do something and they shall do it."
"But what if it's a bad order?"
"Well, I'll be there," Marsh said, then laughed. "I'm no General Mansfeld, but I know a thing or two about small unit tac-tics. I'll help you."
"That's reassuring."
"You've got some mighty big boots to fill. Lieutenant Overton was an expert officer, a man of fine character," Marsh sighed and placed his hands on his hips, "and a very good friend of mine. Maybe that's why I've been hard on you, sir."
"I don't blame you. I'm the poorest soldier in this entire regiment."
"Not for long. Whiteshields don't become Guardsmen overnight, sir. It takes years of training. I'm going to be with you every step of the way during this operation, but you can't be an empty uniform. You're going to have to..." Marsh paused, smirked and chuckled a little, "...make decisions. You'll have choices to make. You're gonna have to make'em. These men are depending on you."
Lieutenant Hyram stood up straighter than ever and nodded. A different air hung around Hyram at that moment. Nervousness still clung to his violet eyes and his hands were jittery. Yet, there was a renewal of energy and determination. Nearly a week's time ago, Marsh Silas saw that reservoir of grit and courage open when it came to the lives of the children. Something sprang up within him and spurred him to take action. When they marched across that rough terrain, he kept pace. During the ambush and the subsequent firefight, he fought harder than he ever had before.
Looking at him, nearly standing at attention like a fresh face in the Youth Army, he could see the reservoir was ready to spill over again.
Somewhere inside you, Marsh Silas thought, is a Cadian Guardsman.
Hyram's gaze was drawn towards the road suddenly. Marsh turned. A single Chimera was rolling up the road towards the convoy. Everyone looked its way; it was a peculiar sight. As common as it was for other columns or detachments to roll in and out of Army's Meadow to rearm, repair, or refuel, nobody expected one on that morning.
With the road effectively clogged by the impatient convoy, it eventually parked in an auxillary motor pool past the refugee camp. The ramp lowered and a full-fledged Commissar, followed by a squad of thirteen other Commissariat types, walked briskly down.
Before Marsh Silas could utter a word of worry or query, Colonel Isaev walked in front of them with Commissar Ghent. Inquisitor Barlocke slowly followed; he turned slightly and glanced at Marsh. He looked just as perplexed as everyone else.
The detail stopped in front of Colonel Isaev. Up close, Marsh Silas could see the majority of the group were Commissar Cadets, although three were Junior Commissars.
"Colonel Isaev!" the leader said as he saluted. "Commissar Althaust."
"Althaus, you bear another glorious wound."
The newcomer wore a red bionic eyepiece over the right socket, had a gnarly scar on his left cheek, and part of the skin on the right side of his mouth was sheared away, revealing a few missing teeth.
"Aye, I do, Ghent," he said, and turned back to Colonel Isaev.
"Are you in need of assistance, Commissar?" Isaev asked shrewdly.
"Cadian High Command informed me that you will be going into the field for prolonged operation. I have with me a fresh squad of Cadets as well as some experienced Junior Commissars. I asked for permission to speak with you to see if you should wish this squad to join your ranks and prove themselves to the Commissariat and the Emperor."
Isaev nodded a little and gazed at the squad assembled behind Althaus. Unlike their seniors, the Cadets wore black coats with blue trim and wore more flak armour than the average Commissar. Each still wore the distinctive high-peaked hat rather than a helmet. Instead of power swords and sidearms, they carried average M36 lasguns. The Junior Commissars were dressed in a similar fashion, although they had swords and carried either a laspistol or Bolt pistol. One of them, the only woman among them, lacked a sword and wore a power fist instead.
She was staring straight ahead at Colonel Isaev and was still standing at attention. Her orange hair was tied back in a strict regulation bun. A faded, but still noticeable scar ran from the left corner of her mouth all the way back to the end of her jawline. Part of her right eyebrow was sheared away by what looked like a laser burn. From some damage, her nose seemed puggish, but she possessed elegant, pale cheeks. Her eyes were a vivid mixture of green and blue, like the channel surf just before a wave broke.
Her high-collared jacket was glossy black and she wore a standard olive drab flak breastplate like others. She wore the standard issue greaves and armoured knee pad over her tan battle-dress trousers, but only on the left leg. The right was a robotic prosthetic, heavily armored yet flexible in the joints. The red, high-peaked cap bore a golden emblem of the Officio Prefectus on itđa skull with empty eyes, jagged teeth, a missing lower jaw, and a pair of Aquila-like wings on each side of it.
More striking than anything else was her olive drab power fist. Like her cap, the top of the fist bore the same icon. An extra armour plate ran just above the base knuckles and the fingers armour, while flexible, was upgraded to be heavier. At the fingertips, the metal was shaped into a sharp point, almost like a claw. However, instead of the typical bucket-type sleeve, it was seated on a leather glove with a sleeve that ran to the elbow. Light armour plates were seated within the leather, but there were leather straps and loopholes that secured it tightly to the forearm.
Marsh Silas stared at her for a time until Colonel Isaev turned to Commissar Ghent.
"What's say you? Do you wish to take these fine soldiers of the Officio Prefectus with us?"
"I should be honored to," Ghent said.
"If it were up to me, I would say yes. But we are currently seconded to the Holy Inquisition and Inquisitor Barlocke commands absolutely. The decision lies with him."
That's when Marsh Silas grew nervous. Commissars of any type, even those without authority to execute Guardsmen at will, filled him with an amalgamation of admiration and terror. Having more than the small number afforded to the regiment was more than he could bear.
He watched as Barlocke looked over his shoulder. His expression shifted from serious to gleeful the moment locked eyes with Marsh Silas. As rapidly and clandestinely as possible, Marsh Silas shook his head.
Oh, come now, Silvanus. It might be fun.
"You promised me not one more man of Bloody Platoon would fall," Marsh said, whispering so low not even Hyram noticed him. "Taking them on increases those chances."
You have absolute faith in the Emperor, do you not?
Impatiently, Marsh rolled his eyes and nodded towards Hyram. "You bloody well know I do. I'm going to have a hard enough time keeping him alive, already..."
I ask not for your absolute faith, as flattering as that might be, but for you to reserve just a little bit for me.
Barlocke resumed his grim expression and gazed at Commissar Althaus.
"I think it's most appropriate to bring them along, even if just for the extra firepower. Consider yourselves a part of the 1333rd Cadian Regiment."
Althaus nodded and turned to his minors.
"You heard the Inquisitor! Fall in, you maggots!"
Just as they began to rush towards the regiment, Barlocke caught the shoulder of the red-haired Commissar.
"Come with me," he said in a charming tone. He began leading her towards Hyram and Marsh Silas.
"Shit, shit, shit..." Marsh muttered under his breath.
"These are the commanders of the First Platoon of the First Company; Lieutenant Hyram, and Staff Sergeant Silas Cross, but most call him Marsh Silas. And you are?"
"Junior Commissar Lillias Juventas Carstensen!" she replied loudly.
Marsh immediately saluted, which she returned. As soon as he dropped his arm, she turned slightly to salute Hyram. She raised her arm with such speed the platoon sergeant could hear the thwip of her leather sleeve.
"First Platoon has earned the epithet of Bloody Platoon; first to spill blood, first to shed blood. You look very capable so you shall accompany them into combat."
"Yes, Inquisitor!" Carstensen answered.
"Good."
He peeled away from them, rejoining Colonel Isaev. Marsh Silas watched him go in disbelief, then looked back at Castensen with Hyram. She was standing stock still, as if waiting to be further acknowledged.
Hyram cleared his throat.
"Welcome to Bloody Platoon."
"Thank you, sir."
"Do you have everything you need? Ammunition? Supplies?"
"Enough, thank you sir," she said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder to the rucksack she was carrying.
"Are you aware of the mission?"
"I was given only minor details."
Hyram took on a rather official tone as he ran through the core aspects of the operational plans. Fortis Sector was compromised due to the vast number of isolated stads and reinforced villages occupied by squatters. The regiment was going to sweep and clear the entire sector of squatters; after a screening, the uncorrupted would be evacuated to Kasr Sonnen for reeducation. Any heretics were to be dispatched. Above all, the villages were to be razed. Denying the heretic bastion in Fortis any means to hide among the loyal was paramount before they attempted to assault the dead Kasr.
"I understand, sir," Carstensen replied.
Just as he began to point out the NCO's, a cry rang out.
"The 1333rd Cadian Regiment is moving out!"
Marsh Silas's worry dissipated as the Colonel waved his arm and pointed at the Chimeras. Turning around smartly, he cupped his hand around his mouth.
"Bloody Platoon, mount up!"
There was a great cheer as engines roared and the ramps descended.
###
Like the village they encountered a week's time ago and the scatter of fishing steads on Army's Meadow, the first hamlet they arrived at possessed no name. Occupying a slice of the flatlands that made up the sector, it possessed no distinctive geographical traits save for a few feeble fields of crops in the nearby land. Many of the rockcrete buildings were quite old looking, leftover from a hard-fought battle. Pockmarks from bullets, burns from lasguns, and nicks from flying shrapnel decorated every wall.
Most of the buildings were two stories tall and had walls extended from their base and wrapped around them, effectively turning each one into a small compound. It was larger than those they previously trekked through; there were three lines of houses, effectively forming three streets.
Marsh Silas, standing in the Chimera turret, watched as their section of the convoy broke off. A single Leman Russ tank accompanied their Chimeras. The APCs ssembled in two formations; half broke off and formed a coil outside of town so Captain Murga could establish a command post. The other half formed a line at the town's mouth to secure it.
Hearing the ramp drop, Marsh Silas ducked back into see Hyram, Carstensen, and the platoon command squad, rushing out. He was right behind them.
Stepping back into the light of day, the squads formed up. There was a great deal of shouting as the platoons disembarked and secured the perimeter. When the cry of, 'all clear,' rang out among the company, Murga assembled Lieutenants Hyram, Comstock, and Savidge along with their platoon sergeants.
"One platoon to a street, start clearing houses. Search for any signs of heresy."
Bloody Platoon was assigned the rightermost road; Second Platoon took the center, and Third Platoon the left. The right road was peculiar; on the left side, the buildings ran about three quarters of the way up the road itself. However, the structures on the opposite ran all the way to the top of the dirty street and there was a large, two-story block house beside the last rightside building, overlooking the road.
Lieutenant Hyram took the command squad, as well as Second Squad, to search the houses on the left side. Marsh Silas took First Squad to the opposite side. Unsurprisingly for Marsh Silas, Inquisitor Barlocke joined him.
"Excited?" the Inquisitor asked.
"Overjoyed," Marsh said, grimacing. Making sure Carstensen was out of earshot as the pair approached the first on the left. He knocked on the door. "Inquisition! I made my choice, just like you said. I'm going to get Hyram, but if he makes one mistake, that Junior Commissar will report him to Ghent. And we both know what he'll do."
"Bolt shells and headshots?" Barlocke chuckled. "Did you consider she might be able to help keep some of your men alive?"
"Is that a joke? That's a joke, isn't it?"
Barlocke just laughed again as the door opened. A middle-aged fellow with graying blonde hair opened the door. Leaning down a little, Barlocke smiled at him.
"Hello, fine sir. I am a representative of our most Holy Inquisition. You will have to be removed from your home and relocate to Kasr Sonnen. The 1333rd shall provide transport. Take one bag. Oh, and you must submit to a search of the premises."
The man stared at him, wide-eyed and mouth open, for nearly a minute. Marsh Silas frowned, pushed the door open, and entered. He waved First Squad in after him. As Barlocke ushered the man and his family into their bedroom to collect their belongings, the squad tore the house apart. Scratch-built cupboards and bureaus were busted open. Chairs and stools were smashed against walls. What little cushioned furniture they owned was torn apart by knives and bayonets.
Going into a back room with his autopistol raised, Marsh Silas found a room with an altar in it. There were many prairie flowers scattered on the pedestal and floor. Standing on the top of the stone-carved stand was a small, golden figure of the God-Emperor.
It reminded him of the one he prayed to when he was on furlough in Kasr Sonnen. He smiled a little, knelt, and made the sign of the Aquila. Footsteps behind him made look over his shoulder. Barlocke sank to his knee as well.
"I think this answers the question," Marsh said.
"Quite," Barlocke replied, clasping his hands together briefly.
Father Kine and his menials collected the holy icons; they were very pleased by the family's piety. The middle-aged gentleman took his wife and two children towards the Chimeras. Hyram also sent a group of evacuees towards the Chimera. There, other priests began rigidly questioning them and extracting assurances they were loyal. None of the terrified squatters would be able to bypass their studious minds.
It was a repetitive process. They would knock, the door would open, and they would proceed to clear the house.
Marsh did not want to think the entire town was filled with loyalists. That would make it too easy and remembering the last urban battle, he knew they could be mixed in. But by the time they reached the final building on the left side, a two-story house with many windows and old firing ports, he was feeling calmer. As he was waiting for someone to answer the door, Hyram and Drummer Boy joined him.
"All is well?" he asked.
"Yes, sir." Marsh could see the men he left behind on the opposite side of the road had not entered the compound adjacent to their position.
Hyram nodded and turned to the Junior Commissar standing beside Marsh.
"Not as exciting as you thought it would be?"
Carstensen just made a small grunt. Marsh could not help but look over at her. He could tell she was older than him by maybe four or five years, though she was still youthful. During the house clearing, her bun grew frayed, a few loose orange locks flowed with the breeze filtering through the village.
Carstensen looked at him.
"Knock again," she said before taking a few steps away, clearly impatient.
Marsh slammed the bottom of his fist against the wooden door harder.
"Open up, tis' the Holy Inquisition!"
"The Inquisition?" came a muffled voice, along with some footsteps.
"Yes, now open this damned door!"
"Ah yes, I'll open it."
The footsteps ceased.
"Sergeant, get away from the door!" he heard Carstensen scream. Just as he began to turn, she tackled him to the ground. A barrage of automatic fire tore through the door and showered the pair with splinters as they covered their heads. Everyone else scattered.
Carstensen was up first, ignoring her missing cap. Marsh Silas was on his back when she reached down and took his hand. She pulled him to his feet and handed him his M36 before drawing her Bolt pistol.
Barlocke, Hyram, and Drummer Boy were stacked up on the opposite side of the door. Autogun fire was still ripping through it. Carstensen stepped aside so Marsh Silas could go in front.
"Wait until he reloads!" Marsh Silas yelled. "Then we'll go in!"
Hyram looked around Barlocke.
"Throw a grenade before you go in! Let Carstensen go first," he said, and held up his fist. Hyram yelled past Barlocke.
"Yes, sir!" Marsh called, yanking one of the grenades from his lower webbing. He looked over his shoulder at the Junior Commissar. She activated her power fist and it soon glowed blue energy.
The autogun fire stopped. Marsh Silas pulled the pin but held the grip down. Sidling to the door and turned around, he stamped his foot as hard as he could against it. With a snap, it flung open. He let go of the grip and tossed the grenade in. Crouching back around the corner, it exploded a few seconds later. Like a breath of wind, Carstensen darted by him. Quickly, he followed her into the dust-filled house.
There were two dead heretics on the floor and one trying to get back up. Belting out a war cry, she raised her power fist and hit him across the jaw. Teeth, blood, and saliva flew out of his mouth as he was thrown back against the far wall. With swift precision, she pressed the barrel of the Bolt pistol against his sack-covered head and squeezed the trigger. The top of the heretic's head was blown up, slashing her robotic leg with blood and brains.
"Clear the other rooms, I'll cover the stairs," she ordered, aiming her weapon up at the second floor.
"Yes, ma'am!" Marsh said. Before he could move, he heard shooting from outside. Going back to the doorway, he saw fire erupting from the blockhouse at the end of the street. Guardsmen scattered in all directions, getting into cover behind compound walls, inside cleared houses, or in alleyways. "Get in, get in!"
He tapped Barlocke, Hyram, Drummer Boy, Honeycutt, Babcock, Holmwood, and on the backs as they entered. Falling in with Barlocke and Drummer Boy, they quickly cleared the side rooms while Hyram took the others into the kitchen. Both groups found no heretics.
They regrouped in the center again before stacking up with Carstensen. Marsh Silas was right behind her with Hyram in tow. With a flick of her hand, they traversed the stairs. Just as she poked her head around the corner, a burst of autogun fire made her recoil. Autogun slugs slammed into the wall adjacent from the group, showering them with tiny chunks of rockcrete.
Carstensen holstered her Bolt pistol and made a cycling motion between her and Marsh Silas. Then, she cupped her small hand into a ball, then mimicked pulling a pin from it, and throwing it around the corner. Marsh Silas nodded. Changing places, he took another grenade from his webbing, pulled the pin, cooked it for several seconds, then whipped it around the corner. Everybody ducked. The subsequent explosion sent a cloud of gray dust flowing out of the doorway and down the stairwell.
Raising his lasgun, Marsh stormed around the corner. In the dust, he saw three forms on the ground. One was not moving while the other two were trying to push themselves up. He descended with the bayonet, shoving it right into the back of the heretic's throat. Carstensen finished off the other wounded heretic and put a Bolt into the immobilized one.
Everyone opened the windows or crouched at a firing port and began pouring fire against the blockhouse. Slugs hammered the walls around the windows, forcing them to crouch, pop up, fire, and duck again. Gold, blue, and red lasbolts were struck the block house.
Barlocke was beside Marsh.
"Aren't you glad we brought the Junior Commissar?" he asked in a ragged, but still jovial tone as he cycled his lasgun.
"Yes, you're so smart," Marsh said before turning over to face Hyram. "How are we going to take it out?" he asked as they cycled their charge packs. The lieutenant chewed his lips and briefly glanced over the edge of the window.
"Second and Third Platoon won't be able to flank it, there's no cover. We can't move from this side, that's too much of a gauntlet. A smoke grenade might give us the edge."
"Ah, maybe sir," Marsh said, then briefly stood up and fired half a dozen times at the block house. "But those are Heavy Stubbers they've got in there, at least three if my ears don't deceive me!"
"Dammit, you're right. We have to move on it!" Hyram gritted his teeth. Marsh held up his hand.
"Stay calm, stay focused, sir. What can we do? What and who do we have at our disposal? Breathe, focus on the present!"
Hyram seemed to think for a movement as he mouthed a few words to himself. Marsh could not hear him over all the laser and gunfire. Suddenly, the officer's face lit up. He got up and went to a window overlooking the street they were on before.
"If we can get some of our men into that compound, they can use explosives to blow through the houses until they get to the block house!"
"We need a base of fire first!"
"We'll move the Heavy Weapons Squad to our position!" Hyram pointed out the window down the street. "The Leman Russ will provide fire support and cover while they advance. Drummer Boy!"
Hyram took the handheld wired to the Vox-set on the Boy's back. He relayed his instructions to the tank commander as well as Sergeants Walmsley Major and Mottershead. Marsh returned to the fight but it was not long before he heard a rumbling engine and the clatter of tank treads. Going back to the side window, he watched as the Heavy Weapons Squads along with Second Squad slowly followed the tank. The hull-mounted and sponson Heavy Bolters were all firing relentlessly against the block house. When the Leman Russ tank stopped beside their house, he watched as Second Squad darted into the opposite compound. Yoxhall and Tatum, who was carrying the Heavy Flamer, were with them. They began blowing through the walls of the compound and
Walmsley's Major and Minor were up first, setting up their Heavy Bolter in the window. The other team, Albert and Brownlow, propped up their weapon in the window beside them. Hefting the Autocannon onto the sill, Sudworth and Lowe began firing as well. A missile soared out from the bottom window, followed by a huge, red laser beam. Foster, Ledford, Knaggs, and Fletcher had also put up their weapons.
Over the Vox, Hyram ordered the Leman Russ to fire. The main gun went off, deafening Marsh and the others briefly. When the ringing subsided, he watched chunks of rockcrete fall to Cadia and a dust cloud envelope the block house. But the Heavy Stubbers resumed firing.
Hyram took Marsh Silas by the shoulder. "Take First Squad across the street, link up with Second!"
"Got it, sir!"
Marsh ordered Holmwood and his men to follow. As they pounded down the stairs, he noticed Carstensen was with them too. They went to the door and paused. Marsh peeked out, waited until another barrage of heavy fire struck the block house, and then sprinted across the street. In one huge mass, while heavy slugs flew over their heads and peppered the road, they held onto their helmets and darted through the compound gates.
With Holmwood on his left and the Junior Commissar on his right, Marsh led First Squad through the breach in the wall and then through the big hole in the next house. As they traversed the rubble, they found dozens of dead heretics.
When they linked up with Second Squad in the last house before their target, they found the wall leading out to the short stretch of land between the two buildings was already blown out.
"Smoke grenades!" Marsh ordered. Several Guardsmen primed the canister, scrambled to the breach, and lobbed them at the block house. Immediately retreating, they escaped a prolonged burst of Heavy Stubber fire. At the same time, the Leman Russ tank fired its main cannon again. The shock shook the house they were in.
Looking out through the breach, he saw thick white smoke engulf the block house. The firing died down. "Yoxhall, Tatum with me! Advance!"
"Let's go First Squad!" cried Holmwood.
"For the Emperor! Charge!" Mottershead screamed.
"For Emperor and Imperium!" Carstensen hollered, throwing her armoured fist into the air.
The two squads sprinted across the open stretch of ground, dashed through the smoke, and practically collided with the side of the block house. Sliding along the wall, Marsh Silas eventually came to a reinforced door at the corner. Turning, he made a signal to Yoxhall. The demolitions expert planted a breaching charge on the door. Everyone backed off and looked away as he detonated the charge. Dust flew everywhere as the metal door flew off its hinges.
Corporal Foley and Logue, armed with a heavy double-barreled shotgun and autopistol, were in first. Marsh followed Carstensen in. Inside, Foley dropped a man with a shotgun blast; the shell tore open his stomach. Logue riddled a heretic trying to run up a stairwell with half a magazine. Bloodied and crumpled, the heretic slid down the steps.
Carstensen charged a heretic that was just coming through the door. Armed with an extended fighting knife, the enemy swung. Nimbly ducking, Carstensen turned and hit the heretic's knee with her power first. The bone snapped loudly, the muscle in his calf exploded, and the entire leg turned halfway around. Screaming, the heretic fell over on his side. The Junior Commissar finished him off with a Bolt shell. Four heretics came running out of the doorway perpendicular to the staircase on the right. Crouching, Marsh raised his lasgun and squeezed off two dozen lasbolts. Bloody, seared flesh, and severed limbs fell everywhere.
"First Squad, clear the first floor. Tatum, with me, up the stairs," Marsh said, pointing with the flat of his hand. Eagerly, the specialist trotted up the stairs while First Squad began throwing fragmentation grenades into each of the adjoining rooms.
Coming to the top of the stairs, Marsh found an open doorway on the right. Pointing again, he stepped back as Tatum took his place. Sticking the nozzle past the edge of the door, he squeezed the triggers. A bright orange-red glow emanated from within the room. Smoke streamed out as did licks of flame. All the oxygen was sucked up into the heat and created a deafening noise. It was only after the trooper relented and the flames settled did he hear all the screaming.
After waiting for the flames to die down, he second Second Squad onto the second floor. From above and below came cries of, 'all clear!'
Panting, Marsh Silas left the building with Junior Commissar Carstensen. On the street, they greeted Inquisitor Barlocke and Lieutenant Hyram. When Marsh saw the officer's happy grin, he could not help but smile himself.
"Good work, sir," he said.
"Thank you, Staff...Marsh Silas," Hyram replied with a nod. He smiled to himself and looked down at his boots. When he looked back up, he shrugged a little. "A long way to go."
"A long way, indeed," Barlocke said. "We'll be out here for a long while and I assure you, there will be plenty of opportunities to prove yourselves. Are you ready?"
Marsh Silas, Hyram, and Carstensen each exchanged a glance before looking at the Inquisitor.
"We're ready."
Word Count: 6,998