Counterattack Part 2

Commander McTavish didn't bother to brace himself as another Greenskin rocket struck the side of the Baneblade, Kasr's Pride. It was times like this that he couldn't help but laugh. The Baneblade was the mightiest armored vehicle in the Imperium. It would take more than a few poorly assembled xenos rockets to break its iron hide. He peered through the periscope again, lining up his next target. A Deff Dred walker was crawling over a growing pile of wrecked vehicles. McTavish grinned as he set the clumsy machine directly in the center of the targeting reticule.

"I've got you now, you alien fiend." he said, grinning devilishly. "Topper, lascannons on the rust bucket. Fire!" The tank's side mounted lasers glowed blue-white as they charged. Two armor piercing beams hit the Dred, one blowing its leg off, the other hitting the cockpit. McTavish laughed out loud as the machine popped like a fiery balloon. Scrap metal, that's all the Orks could make. Just pathetic.

The Baneblade was the lynchpin for the Xenobane's defense line. Gathered around the superheavy tank, the guardsmen had been able to throw back everything that the Orks had sent their way. The massive pile of destroyed Greenskin armor was a testament to the ferocious power of the mighty tank. Alongside Kasr's Pride, a dozen Leman Russ tanks and well entrenched machine guns had turned the landscape into a killing field for the Cadians. The Xenobane more than lived up to their name and reputation.

Vox operator Zene spoke up. "Commander, we've got a priority message from command. We're to switch over to the 85th Vendoland's emergency channel. They're saying a detachment is on its way. The comms are hell right now, I could barely manage to make out that part."

"Do it then," ordered McTavish. What was command up to, he wondered. They were holding just fine. They didn't need the Vendolanders bailing them out. Nine thousand Cadians was an army by itself. He rolled his eyes. Fine, whatever, it was Command's call. He didn't have to like it, he just had to follow orders. Raynis had never let McTavish down before, so he'd go along with the plan.

McTavish opened the turret hatch, and pulled himself out. He surveyed their positions. The Cadians had formed a crescent, expanding out into the leveled strip of buildings. The Ork chants could barely be heard over the constant snap hiss of lasgun shots, filling the air like a swarm of buzzing insects. Hundreds of Orks would come at their lines, and hundreds would die before they got a shot off. The full fury of the Baneblade's arsenal would decimate their attacks, leaving the survivors easy prey for the guardsmen's rifles.

A series of explosions to the right of their position caught McTavish's attention. Spilling out into the open, a squadron of tanks, followed by some two hundred Guardsmen in olive green armor emerged from the alleyways and began pouring fire into the Ork's flanks. The enemy diverted their attention to the small group. So, thought McTavish, these were the Vendolanders. He was interested to see what they were made of.

The 85th cut a wedge into the Greenskin tide in a three pronged attack. Each column was led by one of their Leman Russ tanks, providing supporting fire for the infantry advance. Assault squads would break forward and engage the Orks with deadly close range fire. Mortar teams and machine gunners would move up to their comrades positions and lay on deadly bursts of fire and explosive shot, and the assault squads would move further ahead. At any time, two or more squads were covering one another, hopping from one island of cover to the next, all the while raining hell down on the Orks.

McTavish was impressed. They had good unit cohesion, and they knew how to maneuver. But their biggest draw was their courage. In the face of a giant horde, lesser units would have ran. But the Vendolanders were pushing through with mounting casualties to reach the Cadian's position. McTavish watched several of the squads be chewed up by the Greenskin's deffguns before the mortar teams had time to set up. McTavish keyed the Vendolander's emergency Vox channel into his comm bead. "This is Cadian armored command. Put me through to your Company commander assisting our right flank." The operator obliged, and McTavish was soon speaking with Captain Uther, the man leading the strike force. "Captain, I have you in my sights, and I am ready to assist. Kasr's Pride will cover your approach. Tell your forces to break left and make for our positions. Use the trench line for cover."

"Copy that, commander," said the Vendoland Captain. McTavish dropped back inside and relayed the targeting data to his gunner. The Baneblade's massive main gun slowly rotated until it was aimed squarely at the Orks pursuing the oncoming Guardsmen. On his commander's order, the gunner fired. The massive shell struck the center of the Ork pack, engulfing them in a fiery explosion. The coaxial mounted autocannon fired into the smoke cloud, tearing up the survivors. Halder, his right sponson gunner, rolled his twin linked bolter around as well, adding a barrage of explosive rounds to the mix. It was like music to McTavish, each gun complimenting the other and adding their own unique method of execution to the melody. And he still had six more guns supporting the Cadians, just in case he was worried about running out of targets.

The ground around Mathis was exploding as Greenskin dakka nipped at his heels. The Daredevils made a mad dash towards the trench, aiming for the muzzle flashes of the supporting Cadians, perched atop the hill. Mathis frantically slammed shots into the Orks that continued to pour over the debris and into the trench. The path was funnelling the Guardsmen into narrower and narrower spaces, until the trench could barely accommodate two men abreast. They were entirely reliant on the covering fire from the Cadians to keep the approach from becoming a meat grinder.

An Ork leapt down in front of Mathis, staggering him backwards. He managed to snap off two shots before he fell, but the Ork was undeterred. The other Grenadiers came to his aid, shooting dozens of rounds at the Ork before it could bring its axe down on Beryn. Serrt offered him a hand and pulled Mathis to his feet. They shared a nod before turning back towards the Cadians.

At the head of the company, Uther had reached the Xenobane's positions. While the Leman Russ tanks brought up the rear of the group, the Vendolanders dropped into cover, bolstering the Cadian's staunch defense. Uther headed directly for the massive Baneblade at the center of the formation. The air shattered with each shell fired from the tank's main gun. Uther clambered up the side rails. The turret hatch opened, and Commander McTavish popped his head out expectantly. "Well, Captain, you're here now. What do we owe the pleasure?"

Uther leaned against the turret, keeping his head low. They had to shout over the deafening gunfire. "Everything west of your position has fallen back to the second line. If you cut across the expanse, we can catch the Greenskins in a crossfire. My men managed to clear the rail lines behind the lines before the Orks could use them to outflank you."

McTavish nodded. "What about our left flank?" he asked, pointing to the teeming horde of Orks still throwing themselves at the Imperial bulwark. "How're we supposed to advance with that hammering at our sides?"

"Have you got any reserves?" asked Uther, thinking quickly.

"Aye, Colonel Moran's men are the rearguard, should we need to fall back. Not that we need to, mind you." The tanker slowly grinned as he realized what Lars had in mind. "Have them come up and hold this point, allowing us to move forward, eh? I like your thinking, Vendolander. Give me a few minutes on the vox. I'd get your men ready."

As the guardsmen fell into formation, the Orks continued to batter against the Imperials. Mountains of bodies were piling up across the Cadian's lines of fire, and the xenos had slowed to a crawl as they climbed over their fallen comrades. Captain Uther couldn't make sense of their strategy, if they even had one. Orks were always reckless fighters, but there was often a cruel method to their chaotic ways of fighting. Ork tactics often left Imperial Guard units overstretched as they tried to handle countless, seemingly random attacks across an entire battle line, but here, the Orks had been easily funneled into well prepared killing fields long set up in advance. The brute force of the Greenskins had been blunted by the heavy Imperial defense line.

The uncoordinated attacks were still taking a heavy toll on the defenders, but Uther knew that they would hold their ground. He put his trust in his men's skill. Commander McTavish called him on the vox line. "Ready when you are, captain. Try to keep up!"

"Copy that. All right men, advance on my mark!" Uther waved his chainsword forward, and the attack was soon underway.

Nine thousand Cadians charged into the green tide that was the Ork horde. Unceasing, unrelenting fire from tanks, rifles, machine guns and mortars left a path of complete destruction as the Imperial Guard slashed the Ork lines in two. Vicious melees broke out where the fighting was thickest among the shattered buildings, where Ork axes were met with Imperial bayonets. Tanks traded shots with the Orks' ramshackle vehicles, while Sentinels and Deff Dreads maneuvered around each other for the best vantage points. Across a wide front, the Cadians smashed the scattered Orks, isolating large groups before crushing them one by one.

At the center of it all was Kasr's Pride, the mammoth Baneblade. The enemy ran at its sight, their will to fight drained away by the tank's inexorable advance. A line of Cadian and Vendoland armor pushed straight through the center of the xenos, moving swiftly down the city streets crisscrossing the shattered buildings. Captain Uther's Vendolanders kept pace with the tanks, using them as mobile cover while they pushed further westward, looking to connect with the Vendolander's main battle line.

The fierce close quarters fighting brought vivid memories to the front of Lars's mind. The chaotic battle for Angel Gate at the height of the Tyranid War had been savage. From every angle the monsters had come charging at the disorganized guardsmen. The power grid had been disabled, and the defensive bastions were being overwhelmed. And in the center of it all, he saw her for the first time, standing firm in the face of impossible odds. Connor's courage and inspiration had saved countless men in that battle. Uther shook the memories from his head before he drowned in them, returning to the present. Connor wasn't here, and he had to handle on his own.

A large overpass lay ahead, teeming with Orks. Rockets and explosive shells rained down from the high ground. The Greenskins were holding their ground. Uther shouted into his vox bead. "I need an HE round on that bridge!"

He could almost hear the grin on Commander McTavish's lips as the tanker responded. "Aye, Captain, one round HE coming up!" Behind them, the Baneblade adjusted its demolisher cannon. The enormous shell lobbed over the Imperial Guardsmen, landing squarely in the center of the tightly packed Orks. Following the dissipation of the smoke and charred remains, Uther was already leading another charge up the ramp, followed by Vendolander and Cadian alike.

The Orks were dazed and battered, and the rush of guardsmen overwhelmed them. The greenskins were brought down by gunfire, bayonets and chainswords, some being dragged to the ground by a dozen guardsmen. A stray round struck the man next to Uther, taking his head clean off and spraying blood wildly. Half blinded by blood, Uther continued to wade into battle, swinging his sword at anything green until it was little more than a blunt club. The remaining Orks promptly ran before the onslaught.

The orks were scattering. Their attack had been rebuffed, and the Imperial forces were free to make a sweeping advance across the battlefield. The Xenobane's right flank reported making contact with the 85th Vendoland. They were pursuing the retreating Orks and were driving them back along the highway, directly into the Cadian's path. Commander McTavish quickly ordered the left flank to sweep around the main line, closing the gap and cornering the remaining Orks. With their line's cut off, the trapped Orks flung themselves recklessly against the Imperials, hacking and shooting in a desperate attempt to escape. While casualties were heavy among the guardsmen, by the fighting's end, nearly ten thousand Orks had been slaughtered in the encirclement.

With the mass of Orks littering the roads, Chimeras with dozer blades were brought in to clear the way, while the leading elements of the Cadians pursued their targets into the distance. The killing fields belonged to the Imperial Guard, with the further expanse of the Island's cityscape towering above them. When the last Orks had been driven off, the Cadians and Vendolanders finally breathed easy for the first time all day. The Cadian armor formed up, leaving their engines idling, while troopers simply dropped to the ground, resting their weary limbs.

A Vendoland command Salamander pulled up beside Kasr's Pride, and Major Lester jumped off, followed by a group of aides. Commander McTavish climbed down from the Baneblade's turret and greeted the Major with a firm handshake. "Nice to see another regiment here that can handle their own in a fight." McTavish gestured to Uther, "Your Captain here is a good man, Major, not many men would pull a stunt like that and live to tell about it."

Lester adjusted his cap and eyed Uther closely. "Indeed, Commander. I was only informed of your actions after the fact, Captain. You commandeered a tank squadron for this expedition?"

Captain Uther shuffled on his feet. He spoke carefully. "I operated on my own initiative, Major. I saw an opportunity, and I took it. I understand regulations and command, but, given the circumstances, I felt I had no other choice. Vox lines were down, and one man wouldn't have made it on his own."

The Major gave a thin smile. "Don't justify yourself, Captain, I'm not angry. Your gambit paid off, and it is a sign of a good officer to take whatever advantage he is offered. You saved two regiments a heap of trouble. Good work, soldier."

"Thank you, sir." Lars internally felt a wave of relief.

Lester waved McTavish to his Salamander. "Now, we need to consolidate on our gains, Commander. We've been given an opportunity to strike further inland, and I will not waste it. Captain Uther, gather your men, I'm pulling you off the line for rest and recuperation. I damn well say you've earned it."

"Aye sir, thank you." Uther saluted, which the two commanders returned as they left. Lieutenant Lonnis, watching the exchange from a distance, approached his Captain after the Major had retired. The lanky man had an amused expression. "You know, Captain, I don't think I've seen Major Lester crack a smile. What did you say to him?"

"I didn't say anything, Baird. When was the last time he was actually in combat? I thought he'd be pushing pencils for the rest of his career." Lars shrugged, and rubbed his numb hands to warm up. "It doesn't matter. Gather your platoon, Lieutenant. We're being taken off the line for a while. Hot food and warm showers for the men. Let them relax a bit."

Lonnis beamed. "Right away, sir. Who should I say this reward comes from? You, or the Major?"

Lars sighed, and leaned against the Baneblade's tracks. "Say you thought of it yourself, for all I care. Just see that they get the message. I've got somebody I need to see."

Lonnis grinned, and nodded knowingly. He saluted, and set off to gather the men. Uther lifted his chainsword to examine it. The drive chain still worked, but several teeth had been broken off or dulled beyond use tearing through Ork armor. He would need a new one. His flak jacket was scorched and scratched across the breastplate, and huge chinks had been gouged in both his shoulder plates. He reckoned that he must look like hell, his fatigues were drenched with sweat and blood, maybe his, maybe the Orks'. It didn't matter to him right now. There was only one thing tugging at his mind, so much as he tried to focus on something else.

Captain Caius shook his head and turned to look back at the desperate Private. "I told you, Flinn, it's out of the question!"

"But he could still be alive, sir!" pleaded Flinn. "He would never leave one of us behind, and I can't do that to him either."

Caius paced back and forth in front of the entrance below the bridge spanning the Luesan canal. Sergeant Gren's squad had been on patrol and had run into an Ork ambush. Two troopers, Flinn and Rast, had run on Gren's orders, while he had stayed behind to hold off the Orks. That is where the story ended in Caius's mind. He pointed to the tunnel. "Private, I understand that you care for him, but I cannot send men into a slaughter to save a man that for all intents and purposes is already dead. It's too dangerous to mount a rescue. We're moving out in the morning, and I need every man ready, not wasting time chasing after ghosts. Now come on, back to base, soldier, that's an order."

Flinn wept bitter tears, and glared accusingly at Caius. "Yes, Captain," he said through gritted teeth. Caius knew the men thought him a callous man. He didn't care what they thought, only that they followed his orders. Gren had been emotionally unstable for years, but he had never faltered enough for Caius to demote him. Dying taking down Orks and covering his men was probably the best that Caius could have hoped for. It saved him from dealing with the sergeant when he would inevitably snap. He would keep an eye on Flinn though. He knew that the two had been close. The young man would need to be watched carefully.

Trooper Rast waited for Flinn on the stairwell leading up the bridge. Climbing the steps up to the bridge, Rast put his arm around Flinn's shoulder to comfort him. "It's alright Flinn."

In a rage, Flinn threw Rast's arm off him and pushed him away. Through angry tears, Flinn shouted at Rast. "No! It's not alright! They could still be down there for all we know!"

Rast, wary of Captain Caius watching them, pulled Flinn aside. He lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. "Then what are you going to do about it, Flinn? You go down there yourself, you're going to get yourself killed, and I'm not about to let that happen, either. So, it's not what you're going to do. It's what we're going to do. I'm coming with you. One way or another, Gren and the others will be brought home, no matter what the Captain thinks."

Flinn nodded feebly. "Okay, okay. So when are we going to do this?"

Rast glanced back to Caius, and then embraced Flinn. "Keep your head down and don't turn around. We'll go tonight. Give me a few hours to grab some things, and meet me by LP 5, down the canal. I'll take care of the guys on watch, you just get there without anyone noticing, and we'll go ahead with this, got it?"

"Got it."

"Good," Rast let Flinn go and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Flinn. Everything will be alright. It just takes time." Rast gave Flinn a subtle wink. Flinn followed after him. Captain Caius watched them go through squinted eyes. He took one last look at the dark service tunnel, shook his head, and returned to camp, muttering under his breath.

Across the western sector, the Imperial Guard had pushed deeper into the Ork held territory on Luesan Island, with the Cadian Xenobane and the Vendoland Consolidated regiments at the forefront. Spurred on by their actions, several other regiments mounted attacks of their own. By the early evening, the line had advanced a further ten kilometers inland before stiff Ork resistance finally brought the advance to a stall. The Imperial Guard forces were approaching the nearest Ork Rok, which the Greenskins were using as their base of operations. New defensive lines were quickly established beyond the range of the fortress's large guns.

It was also by this time that the sector's Leviathan Command Vehicle had finally arrived. The massive vehicle slowly came to a halt. The Guard had liberated a supply depot, built for handling large transcontinental haulers. The Leviathan was nestled snugly within one of the loading bays, shielded from above by the depot's solid domed roof. Inside, the regimental commanders were busy discussing their next move. The tactical room was filled with officers and representatives from each unit. The Cadian Colonel stepped forward, and the room was hushed.

Colonel Raynis Moran addressed the assembly. "This will be a short meeting, gentlemen," he said. "At this time, West Sector regiments are the furthest inland. The Central, East, and Coastal sector groups are still bogged down by heavy resistance. I have received orders from General Derim to hold out until our supply lines are secured and the other Sectors have been brought under control. We were lucky today; the Orks were careless with their assault, throwing everything at us without thought or reason. I do not wish to demean the actions of our men, but I fear that our success has less to do with their skill than a lack thereof by our foes.

"I believe that our gains are due to the fact that the Warboss of this invasion has yet to reveal himself. With a central figure to gather around, the Orks become a much deadlier opponent. The heavier fighting that our allies have faced this past week leads me to believe that the Warboss is operating further to the east. When the Rok split apart in orbit, the enemy leader must have been on one of the fragments that landed elsewhere."

Colonel Laradis of the Garredyne Rifles was a thickset man, many years older than Moran. From his seat around the hololith chart, Crassus watched the heavy officer swagger to his feet. A monocle was pinched between his low brow and folds of baby fat around his cheeks, giving him an unpleasant squint. When he spoke, it was a low, rumbling drone that made Crassus's ears rattle.

"To hell with Derim's orders," bellowed Laradis, throwing up his arm. "You said it yourself, Moran, the Greenskins in this sector are little more than a disorganized mob. We should strike while we still have the advantage! Let us march on that blasted Rok by morning."

"I have no control over any regiment other than my own, Laradis," said Moran. He leaned over the table, meeting the Gerredyne's squint with a hawkish stare. "However, General Derim does. And despite that, I would still be inclined to agree with him. I never charge headlong into a battle before I know I can win it. I leave that detail to Commander McTavish."

Behind Moran, McTavish snorted, and a small chuckle rippled through the crowd. Moran continued. "I suggest caution as our first course of action. Our priorities should be dealing with problems we encountered today, most importantly with our lines of communication. Colonel Crassus, I understand that it was one of your Captains that helped re-establish our line between my Cadians and your Vendolanders, correct?"

Crassus cleared his throat. "Yes sir, Captain Uther proved to be invaluable." Beside him, Lester nodded in agreement.

"Give him my thanks, then," said the young colonel. "We need a more effective means of coordination between our regiments, men. These winter storms are playing havoc with our Vox systems. I suggest that every regiment provide volunteer runners to maintain the flow of information.

"There is also the matter of verticality. Fighting in a Hive can be a logistical nightmare, and it is a weakness that the Orks shall undoubtedly try to exploit. What we faced today was merely a surface assault. The Undercity may well be swarming with Orks, allowing them to infiltrate behind our forces. With our supply lines stretched thin for the moment, I also recommend an expedition to the Undercity to seal off any entrances to the surface that might threaten the main supply routes. Fighting the Orks down there in force only serves to tie up our forces that are better used clearing the surface. Without the support of the Orks up top, the Undercity forces can then be mopped up in due time."

"I have had patrols running sweeps below the surface, Colonel," said Crassus. "Mostly to clear out evacuation stragglers. We've had some reports of Ork activity near our bridgeheads in recent days."

"All the more reason to press this matter, then," said Moran. "There is little more to say. Until we have a better understanding of that Rok's capabilities, we must hold here, and resolve our own problems. I have nothing else to say, so let us end this meeting. May the Emperor watch over us this night. In His name we trust."

Stranded in Lake Aradine, Smashface's Rok had nearly completely submerged into the freezing waters. Only the last minute activation of a flash freeze device the Mekboy had inadequately explained had stopped them from sinking entirely. The entire fortress shook from the repeated bombardment by the Imperials' air force. Smashface had had enough. Any Gretchin, Boy, or Nob unlucky enough to get in his way while he stormed down the corridors was promptly reminded of his authority with a hard smack. One gretchin had been particularly unlucky, and Smashface wiped what was left of him on the doorway to the Mek's workshop.

"Seven days!" he roared as he crossed the room with a menacing gait. "Itz been seven bloody days, Mek! You said dat da devices would be ready free days ago! I wuz bein' nice, so I let yer have sum extra time!"

"Er, I said four days, boss," said the Mekboy, cowering in the corner. Smashface just growled and tossed over a table laden with the Mek's experiments.

"Doesn't matter! Have you got it finished or not? An' it better not be da second one!"

The Mek nervously fiddled with his hands, not daring to look the Warboss in the face. "Well, technically, boss, dey is finished. But da testing still needs to be done befor' I can propaly opera-"

He was cut off by Smashface before he could finish the sentence. "You just said dey're finished! I don't care about 'field tests' or 'experiments'! Dey're done, an' we're gonna use dem now! I didn't come 'ere to let all da snivelin' grotz do all da fightin' while I froze me pants off on a sunken Rok! Now, get da fings ready for da morning. Dis'll be a real WAAAGH! soon enuff!"

As Smashface stomped his way towards the exit, the Mek spoke up tentatively. "But, it'll take me a couple o' hours to get dem running, boss. I need summore time."

Smashface turned around and gave the Ork a murderous glare. His typical bellow dropped to a deadly growl. "Den I suggest you begin immediately, Mek."