Beasts of Waaagh!
The call sent shivers down the spine of every guardsmen on the frontline. A Squiggoth was a massive creature, towering over even the largest vehicles the Imperial Guard had available. Like ancient war beasts emerging from the shadows, the Squiggoths burst through the black smoke, their handlers riding atop ramshackle bunkers strapped to the beasts' humped backs. Its tusks were as long as three men, its red eyes filled with animal rage. With every step, the ground shook with the force of an artillery blast. The Orks gave them a wide berth, letting the feral beasts lead the charge. Mighty zapp guns and cannons bristled on their backs, flashing harsh yellow light as they fired on the guardsmen.
The Vendoland 4th company lay behind their aegis defense lines, weathering the attack. They were to wait until the Orks were within effective range before firing. Behind them, Leman Russ tanks, disguised as rubble piles, began firing their battle cannons, joining the heavy Basilisk fire from Temple Hill. The charging Squiggoths exchanged fire with the tanks, some shots deflected off of the Russes' frontal armor, while others were torn asunder by direct hits bouncing underneath the gun mantlets. The noise was deafening, but above the roar of explosive rounds, the chanting Orks could be heard, shouting in crude Low Gothic voices. "'Ere we go, 'ere we go, 'ere we go!" they yelled, shooting sporadic bursts into the air to punctuate their chant.
Beryn Mathis kept his head down, waiting for the order to fire. The Orks were getting closer, with every step, the return fire from the Vendolanders intensified. He grasped his Lasgun, squeezing and releasing the stock as he counted down in his head. Captain Uther was telling the men to hold fire. One soldier began to panic, shaking uncontrollably. The waiting, the noise, and the oncoming swarm of Greenskins had gotten to the trooper. He made a break for it, leaving his post on the line and running for the relative safely of the inner defenses. He made it ten feet before a hand with an iron grip clutched his chest, stopping him cold.
Commissar Connor held the man with one arm, giving him a deathly glare. "Back on the line, trooper," she said, her voice as cold as the winter winds. Connor threw the man to the ground, towering over him. Using his better judgment, the trooper rushed back to the line, still in a panic. Mathis had to hand it to his new Commissar, she didn't need to kill subordinates to get results. He shuddered to think of what it would take to put the woman over the edge, and he certainly did not want to test her patience. His comrades from the 46th Vendoland shared a glance, holding similar sentiments.
"Two hundred meters!" called a spotter.
"This is it, soldiers," said Captain Uther. "Hold for just a little more!" The snipers and machine gunners dotted across the rooftops had sparked to life, striking down scores of Greenskins. The spotter screamed out one hundred and fifty meters. The captain rose over the aegis line, wielding his laspistol and chainsword. "Now, men! Open fire!"
Two hundred lasguns were trained on the Greenskin horde. Mathis felt the hiss of lasgun discharges as the air was ionized by the volley. Kalan and Donovan, his squad's gunners, fired bursts of heavy stubber fire, punctuating the snap hiss of lasgun shots with the steady thud of solid bullets. Mathis watched as dozens of Greenskins simply melted under the barrage. A Slugga Boy was torn into several pieces by the immense volume of fire, refusing to die until a trio of full power lasgun shots from Mathis tore the xenos's head off.
The intensity of the Imperial firepower was matched by the Orks's ferocity. A wall of hot steel peppered the aegis defense wall as shoota boys and flash gits fired back. Dozens of Guardsmen were caught by the Orks' response, ripping through their flak and carapace armor. Mathis spotted a large Ork leading a pack directly at them; a Nob, covered in scrap metal armor and spiked shoulder pads adorned with human skulls. "Vornas, grenade on the big one!" he ordered. The grenadier swapped out his ammo drum, and lobbed a volley at the Nob. The cluster of explosives landed at the feet of the Greenskin just before they detonated. The brute's legs disintegrated from the blast of hot shrapnel.
As the wave of Orks hit their lines, the Squiggoths held back, still trading shots with the Imperial armour, and running amok as their riders wrestled them into position for a charge. Mathis watched the impact of earthshaker rounds tearing huge holes in the Ork swarm, but few hit the large creatures. He focused on the enemies in front of him, and dreaded those yet to come.
The Squiggoths had reached the firing range of the Guardsmen. Massed fire from tanks, machine gun nests, and small arms fire was only slowing the beasts down, not stopping them. Kippler tried a different tactic. He was aiming for the Orks riding atop the war beasts. Without a handler, a Squiggoth might panic and run, breaking up the Ork horde and giving the Imperials an opening. With each Ork that poked his head out of the metal box atop the lead Squiggoth, Kippler's sharpshooter aim added another Xenos to his kill tally. The Orks aimed the giant, back mounted Zapp gun upwards, searching for the snipers harassing them. Kippler quickly backed up from the edge of the rooftop.
"Everyone, move, move!" he shouted to the other sharpshooters and gunners. The Vendolanders uprooted from their positions, fleeing for the far side of the roof. Behind him, Kippler could hear the buzzing whine of the Zapp gun charging its shot. A blast of hot air washed across his back, melting the snow on his cloak, and then he heard a deafening crash. Kippler chanced a glance back to the ledge. It wasn't there anymore. The entire side of the building had simply fallen away, either vaporized by the Zapp gun blast, or collapsed, raining over the Guardsmen below.
Kippler switched on his vox bead, turning it to the squad's closed channel. "Alek, do you still have your vox pack?" he asked as he moved to a new firing position.
"I'm a little busy at the moment," said a panting Alek. "We've got wounded coming in all over the place. What do you need the vox for?"
"Alek, those Squiggoths are tearing us apart. We need the artillery to focus on them rather than the Orks," said Kippler. "Otherwise we might as well give up the bridge. Do whatever you can, just get me in touch with a gun crew!"
"Alright, Kippler, I'll try," said Alek. "Give me some time, I'll head for headquarters with the wounded."
"Roger that, Alek. Good luck."
"Alright, alright, set him down on the back, gently now," said Alek, helping hoist a wounded trooper onto a jeep. He turned to the trooper helping him. I'm going with this one, Harrel. I'll send back as many medical supplies as I can scavenge, we'll need all of them." Alek hopped into the passenger's seat and the driver took off. The jeep winded its way down the streets, darting between tanks and personnel rushing to reinforce the frontline. Alek checked his comm bead again. "Kippler, I'm on my way back to headquarters. Where are you now?"
"I'm heading for the frontline, my position was compromised. There's a hab complex on the edge of the killzone that hasn't fallen completely yet, and I'll need to be close for this to work."
"Kippler, are you insane?" said Alek. "You'll be a sitting duck out there, and if that thing doesn't get you, you could be caught in the blast!" Alek's hands started trembling again, like they had when Remer had died. "I can't ask you to do that, Kippler, please. There has to be another way."
"There isn't," said Kippler solemnly. "I know it's risky, Alek, but it's one life against everything. I have to do this. Don't make me pull rank, let me do this as your friend."
Alek sighed, exasperated. "I trust you, Soras. Get it done."
The jeep sped down the thoroughfare. Across Southgate Bridge, Alek could see the titanic Leviathan Command Vehicle, a mobile fortress that acted as headquarters for their sector of Golgotha Spire. The Vendoland, Garredyne, and Cadian regiments operating in the sector all shared the Leviathan, and even it was only one of many similar vehicles coordinating the defense of the Spire. Alek told the driver to let him off at the base of the huge machine before sending him off with the wounded soldier and orders for more supplies.
Alek ran up the wide access ramp at the front of the Leviathan. Aboard the headquarters, he worked through the cramped hallways, pushing aside regimental aides and servitors as he made for the communications room. "Major, major!" Alek blurted, bursting into the comms center. Major Lester looked up from the hololith tactical map dominating the center of the room. His face was strained, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse. The major looked as though he had been working all day, and Alek figured he probably had been.
"What is it private? Make this quick, what's happened?"
Alek finally caught his breath, heaving. "I need to get a hold of some artillery. I don't have the codes, sir, but my squad leader said he can do something about the Squiggoths."
"Private, we're currently short on available artillery," said Lester, sternly, "I cannot just 'give' you a gun battery." The major highlighted the Vendolanders' attached gun crews on the hololith chart. They had access to three large batteries dotting the Temple Hill. Red arcs indicated the basilisks' predicted shell trajectories and their intended targets. "We have to rely on carpet barrages, there simply isn't a spotter close enough for us to make an accurate strike that you are proposing."
Alek's vox bead bleeped again. "Alek, are you there? I'm in position, have you got anything for me yet?" Major Lester watched him instinctively put his hand up to his ear. His eyes narrowed as they focused on the vox bead.
Major Lester extended a hand, demanding the bead. "Let me talk to him, private." Alek removed the vox bead from his helmet and handed it to the officer. "This is Major Lester of the Vendoland Consolidated Regiment. Identify yourself."
Alek listened as Kippler's voice came through the vox pack. "Corporal Kippler, sir, 1st Battalion, 4th Company. The Squiggoths are tearing through our frontlines, but I can give you accurate targeting information. If we don't bring these beasts down, the line is going to break."
Major Lester remained unconvinced. "Corporal, I'll tell you the same thing that I told your private. I don't have any guns I can provide you. All of the batteries on Temple Hill are operational already."
"Is there nothing you can do?" pleaded Kippler, "Give me one gun, that's all I need. One gun pointed at a Squiggoth. They're shrugging off small arms, but I'm certain an Earthshaker could bring it down. Sir, please, this could be our only chance."
Major Lester wiped his face of sweat, and sighed. "Are you certain you can maintain a lock on those beasts, Corporal?"
"Perfectly sir."
"Very well, give me your signal," said Lester. "I'll put you through to Murtonn. Do not take my charity lightly, trooper. Make every shot count."
"Understood, thank you sir."
Lester handed the vox bead back to Alek. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "Your corporal better be right about this, private, or we're all buggered. Here, use this frequency with your vox pack. It will put you through to the Planetary Defense Force's artillery network."
Vox Operator Murtonn received the order moments later. "Commander Hullen, new target orders. The regiment needs one gun redirected to coordinates Six-Three-Three, Oh-Four-Two. We have laser targeting for corrections."
The PDF Commander looked down at the Guardsmen. "Understood, mister Murtonn." Hullen exited the soundproofed building, being met with the deafening barrage of artillery. The twelve Basilisk cannons had been firing nonstop for close to four hours, softening up the Vendolander's killzone, and now devastating the Ork horde as it tried to cross no man's land. The very air was thick with the smell of sweat and the heat dispersing from the guns. Grease and oil coated every man more than snow, and the gunners had stripped off their shirts as they toiled away.
"Gun 4, new targeting information!" barked Commander Hullen, "Correct to coordinates 633042! One round, high explosive charge." The loader set the shell in the cannon's breach and slammed it shut. His hearing dulled, the loader and gunner gave a thumbs up to indicate their readiness. Hullen puffed up his chest, and screamed. "Fire!"
The massive thump of earthshaker fire shook the ground, but the crew remained unfazed. They were used to this work by now. For months, the guns had lay silent, untouched since the last crusade struck Meridian. But now, after a week of relentless bombardment, the crews had returned to a steady routine, undisturbed by the noise, the cold, and the grime. There was only the gun, the target, and the resounding sound of a successful hit. The rhythm was like poetry to the men, uncomplicated, but beautiful.
The shot disappeared into the sky. They didn't watch to see if they'd hit their mark, immediately restarting the procedure for the next shell. The distant sound of an explosion called back to them, carried on the wind. A second shot fired, followed by a third. Whatever lay on the far side of that river was surely suffering by now.
Flinn and Rast ran as fast as they could towards the surface. The horrible sounds of the Kommandos still fighting the squad further back followed them through the tunnels. It was a horrible reminder, and the guilt Flinn felt for leaving his friends behind nearly pushed him to tears. It was wrong, leaving them back there to those monsters. But Gren had told him to go, and Gren knew what was best for the him. He'd looked out for Flinn, and now, Flinn needed to trust him.
A growling, bestial voice echoed through the corridor behind them. "Get back here, humies! I'z not finished wif ya yet!" The rattle of heavy machine gun fire and the flash of muzzle discharges made Flinn instinctively duck, yanking Rast down with him. The two scrambled across the floor and pressed themselves into an alcove in the corridor. Flinn's heart was pounding as the heavy, stomping footsteps of the Ork Kommando came closer and closer. "I can smell ya, humies. Come out to play, show me yer dakka!"
"What do we do?" whispered Rast. Flinn peaked around the corner. In the dim, flickering lights, he could make out the massive bulk of the Ork. It filled the hallway, his back hunched over and covered in explosives and knives and all manner of weapons. He looked back to Rast, and silently pointed to the trooper's belt of grenades. Rast hastily passed the belt to Flinn. He counted down on his fingers, pulled the pin on the first grenade, and tossed the belt at the Greenskin, before huddling back in the corner and covering his face.
The blast left the Ork bellowing in pain, shortly before the rest of the greenskin's explosives began bursting like firecrackers. Shrapnel embedded itself in the wall opposite the two guardsmen, glowing red hot. Flinn and Rast popped around the corner with their guns immediately on the Kommando. They didn't wait to see if the Greenskin was still moving, they just unleashed volleys of lasfire into the smoky haze. The Ork was reeling, its face shredded by shrapnel, and the unending volley of las bolts blasted every part of its body. Flinn didn't stop shooting until the Ork lay unmoving and charred beyond recognition.
"Bloody hell, Flinn," said Rast, staring at the fried xenos and then back to Flinn. He looked into Flinn's face, and stepped back like he didn't recognize the man. Flinn realized that there were tears rolling down his cheeks, and he had bitten his lip until it bled. Rast nervously stepped forward. "Are you alright?"
Flinn snapped out of it, shaking his head and focusing. "I'm fine, yeah. Come on, keep going. Just... keep going." They continued to run for the surface, leaving the stench of ionized air and burnt Ork in their wake.
Beryn continued to pour more and more gunshots into the Ork tide crashing against them, even as Captain Uther ordered the company to begin pulling back. Jann Tarls was sliced to bits by an Ork's deff gun as he tried to snap one last desperate shot off. Mol and Vornas were dragging Rejor between them while Donovan and Kalan covered the squad's retreat. Beryn kept waving the troopers back, while the Orks began hacking apart the Aegis defense line with their axes and hammers. All around him, guardsmen were being cut down as the Orks whittled away at the Imperials.
Only Commissar Connor remained, defiantly facing down every xenos that dared challenge her. Beryn watched from an overturned transport in awe while she fearlessly waded into a pack of Sluggas, armed with nothing but her power sword and bolt pistol. She fought like a lion, making striking lunges at the Orks necks, and cleanly slicing their heads off in a vicious swing of her blade. As her body count grew, so did the attention she garnered from the Orks. Rolling over the barricades like a green ocean, dozens more sluggas and shootas joined in the battle with the mad Commissar. She was soon surrounded, even as she continued to hack down the huge Orks.
Mathis thought quickly. "Garrett, Serrt, put your gun on that horde, right now!" he ordered. The machine gunners set their heavy stubber atop the truck, and started shooting bursts into the Ork crowd surrounding the Commissar. Mathis contributed to their barrage, hitting the Orks from their flank and taking at least a dozen down before the brutes knew what had happened. Mathis could see Commissar Connor more clearly now, still fighting in the center of the pack. "Come on, lads, put some more fire in it!"
Suddenly, the Orks were blown apart. A series of precisely aimed grenades landed amidst the greenskins, blowing wide holes in the wall of green. Mathis looked to see where the shots had come from. Standing next to him on top of the truck was Borik Vornas, the Daredevils' remaining grenadier. The giant man's face was a mask of rage, and he yelled incoherently as he continued to lob explosive after explosive at the Orks. The Commissar and her assailants stopped momentarily to look at the soldier standing above them. Connor took the initiative first, jamming her sword into the gut of one ork while simultaneously firing a bolt into the skull of another.
A hungry smile swept across Connor's face, taking a moment to savor her kill. The hesitation cost her. Before he could warn her, Mathis saw a massive Nob swing his hammer at the Commissar from behind. Connor turned too late, and the hammer slammed into her breastbone, knocking her through the air. The Commissar hit the ground hard, skidding into the sidewalk, where she lay, screaming and clutching her chest.
"Commissar!" shouted Mathis. She didn't respond, only able to cry in pain. The Orks, however, heard his voice, and, looking for more sport, turned on the guardsmen instead. They were on their own, the rest of the company had fallen back to the second line. Mathis never let up his rate of fire, even as it took far more to kill even one ork than he'd like. The Nobs leading the pack simply absorbed the lasgun shots, and even the squad's machine gun had trouble piercing their tough hides. Only Vornas's grenade launcher had any success killing the larger orks.
"Oh, to hell with this!" growled Vornas, suddenly. He jumped off the top of the truck and broke off at a run for Connor's slumped body. "What the hell are you doing?" he called back to Mathis. "Keep shooting, damn it!"
"Right, you heard him, boys! Give the man some covering fire!" The three troopers redoubled their efforts, focusing their shots on the Greenskins that had turned their attention to Vornas. The grenadier was a massive man, but even he was dwarfed by the giant Orks. As he ran for Connor, he fired off his last few grenades, before dropping the launcher and leaving his hands in Mathis's hands. Vornas scooped up the wounded Commissar and tossed her over his shoulders.
"He's got the Commissar, fall back!" said Mathis. The gunners packed up the heavy stubber, and broke for the second line. Mathis sprayed a last handful of shots at the Orks until Vornas was past him before he joined the squad's retreat. The ground shook, and a great animal roar echoed overhead. Rounding the corner of a half destroyed hab block, one of the Squiggoths that had wrought havoc upon the frontline stared directly at Beryn. He promptly picked up the pace, running as fast as his legs would carry him. The beast roared again, its heavy footsteps shaking the earth and tearing apart the defense line like it was made of paper.
The hab block had been blown wide open by the destructive zapp guns mounted on the war beasts' backs. Kippler crept over the collapsed roof, taking care not to dislodge loose debris and give himself away. The 4th company had fallen back to the second defensive line in a scattered withdrawal, leaving only a few resistant squads to die by the hands of the Orks. Similar reports had come in across the regiment's emergency channels, it looked like a full retreat. But Kippler was sticking to his plan. He had a Squiggoth to kill.
The Orks rolled over the frontline, followed by the heavy footsteps of Kippler's target. Through the skeleton of metal girders, left bare against the cold wind, Kippler followed the bulk of the Squiggoth, remaining in its blind spot. He fixed the laser targeting beam to his long las, screwing it into place in the bayonet socket. Kippler settled into the shadow of a fallen beam, and tracked the monster's head. As the xenos rounded the corner of the building, the massive head came into view. This was Kippler's chance. He had to hold the Squiggoth in place, and let the basilisks do their work.
I must be crazy, he thought. Kippler lined up his rifle with the Squiggoth's glaring red eye. As soon as he had a clear shot, the sniper squeezed the trigger. The high powered shot would have bounced off the beast's scaly hide, but Soras's aim was true. The Squiggoth's eye evaporated, and the massive creature recoiled in pain. Rearing up on its hind legs, it thrashed wildly, slamming into the side of the building. Kippler continued moving along the ruined floor, keeping the laser sight trained on the target. "I've got the target zeroed, artillery, light it up!" he said into his vox bead.
"Ordnance is on its way, Corporal," responded the vox operator. The sound of streaking shells filled the air mere moments before they struck their target. The earthshaker rounds disintegrated the Squiggoth's armored back in a plume of black smoke and high explosives. Shot after shot struck the creature with such force that the foundations of the hab block shook beneath Soras's feet. Its insides pouring out of the horrendous gashes carved in the beast's side, the Squiggoth collapsed into the hab block, crushing the weakened supports and bringing the entire building crashing down atop it and it's handlers.
Kippler was moving the moment the Squiggoth had been struck. He'd been in falling buildings before, and to turn around and look was precious time wasted. He thought quickly about his escape options while the floor gave way behind him. As he ran, he reported to the artillery. "Target hit, I say again, target is down! Moving onto the next one!" Soras leapt through a hole in the floor and hit the ground running. The roof was coming down around him, and downwards was the only direction he could go.
An alleyway a chasm deep was wedged between the two hab blocks. It was narrow, narrow enough that Kippler could try and jump for the other side. Through blasted out windows, Soras looked desperately for any ledge or handhold he could reach. Eyeing an air conditioner unit, Kippler made a run for it. At the edge of the building, he jumped, praying to the Emperor that he would make it. His feet left the Hab block just as the next floor fell away completely.
As he fell through the air, he felt a deep chill run through him. He was going to miss it, surely. There was no way a person could make that jump, how could he have been so stupid? He was going to die, falling until he struck his head on the way down. At least it would be quick. He'd hit the ground so quickly, he wouldn't feel a thing. It would be a nice way to go, in a flash. The air conditioner was still in his eyes. Soras reached out, stretching his hand, desperate to grab onto anything at that point.
If it was his fate to die, it wouldn't happen that day. Soras managed to grab onto the large unit, smacking into the side. He swung his other arm up and pulled himself on top of the air conditioner, breathing a sigh of relief. Soras sat there, watching the Hab block crush itself under its own weight. The massive complex began to sink into the ground, as the weight of the top broke the foundations, and the entire building fell into the undercity, leaving a gigantic sinkhole in its wake. The Imperial Guard's prepared battlefield stretched out in front of Soras, uninhibited by any sight. It was still covered in Orks, and several more Squiggoths were still marching on the Guard line.
His vox bead bleeped again. "Corporal, please respond. Do you have another target yet?"
Kippler sat there, limp, vaguely listening to the vox as the operator repeated the question. Finally, he answered. "Affirmative, 77, I've got a clear view from here. Marking targets and waiting for your thunder."