Enter Smashface
Along Golgotha Spire's shoreline ran Lake Aradine. The pollution choked reservoir supplied Angel Hive with water, while a system of canals and traveled throughout Golgotha Spire. The waterways allowed ships of all sizes access to the Spire's extensive warehouses, but now, they only served to hinder the Imperium's grasp on the city.
While the Imperial forces further inland had managed to make strong headway onto Luesan Island, the forces stationed along the coast had faced a week of back and forth fighting. The Imperial Guard held a tenuous position on the north bank of Luesan Canal, unable to push against the entrenched Orks. Xenos infiltrators had used the stalemate to wreak havoc among the Imperials, traveling up and down the canals to strike at weak targets and sow confusion. The battle lines bulged outwards, until both armies had reached the waterfront.
Off the coast lay the primary Ork Rok, embedded in ice. Too far away to be targeted by artillery, it fell to the Navy to bombard the Rok and deal with the still sizeable Ork air wing using it as a base of operations. Marauder Bombers and Thunderbolt Fighters squared off against Fightas and Dakkajets. Wreckage from the aerial duels washed up against the seawall below.
General Tullassar Derim, acting commander of all Imperial Guard forces in Golgotha Spire, had chosen the coastline to be his priority. The Artemian General had formed his defensive plans around his own men, the 6th Urban Brigade, comprising the 31st and 455th Mobile Regiments. Already bloodied in their operations mopping up the remains of the Vandis Uprising, the Artemians were veterans of Meridian warfare. Derim was proud of his soldiers, and of Orias Nolt, their field commander.
The 31st Artemians had fortified Golgotha Harbor. Denying the Orks a landing zone for their soldiers still on the Rok was a primary concern. The Artemians had established a line of gun and mortar emplacements along the dockyards' wide piers, in enfilade of the seawall. They could rain fire down on the Orks from relative safety while the 455th drew the enemy in along the seawall.
Watching from Pier 5, Elliah Fayden and Fenneth Tov manned a heavy mortar, waiting for dawn to break. Every day without fail, the Greenskins had attacked at first light, and every day, their attacks increased with ferocity. The telltale scream of Ork rockets ushered in the first shots of the day. From the south, the Orks were massing in the city streets. Elliah could faintly make out vehicles and Greenskins moving between the buildings, marshalling for the inevitable assault.
The war had not been kind to Elliah. Sergeant Polris had bought it the day they made landfall, along with Ariana and Enalya. Roland had died during a raid on smugglers. Jurek, barely a week after his promotion to Sergeant, had been killed on patrol. Only she, Fenn and Manrey were left. They had quickly been reassigned to the mortar section. It gave her little comfort that they were further from enemy fire.
Lieutenant Rike received a vox message from the section's FO. "Lysander Six, Lysander Six, this is Azrael Four, adjust fire, over," said the observer.
"Azrael Four, this is Lysander Six, adjust fire, out," responded Rike. The observer sent the coordinates, which Rike relayed to the mortar teams. "Direction 1200, eight hundred meters, base of the canal levee. Lock in coordinates on grid 322-540. Azrael Four, coordinates locked in, out."
"Copy that, L6. Fire when ready, over."
"L6, firing now, out."
The six mortars commenced firing. Fenn swiftly loaded the barrel. Elliah cranked the mortar's adjustment gear, making slight corrections to the shell trajectory. "Fifty-five degrees, deflection three degrees left, high charge!" she shouted. The mortar thumped, lobbing the shell high over the water. It landed in the center of an Ork pack, blasting them with high explosives.
The forward observer voxed again. "L6, this is A4, fire for effect, I say again, fire for effect! Multiple targets inbound." Elliah looked over the dock's edge. Hundreds of Orks were surging across the levee. She and Fenn continued to fire.
Manrey dropped a crate of HE shells next to Elliah. As the Greenskins came into range, the machine gun section opened up, heavy bolters and stubbers firing in steady bursts. Little could be heard over the raging gunfire. A squall came whistling off the lake, bringing snow and rain with it. The ammo runners threw tarps over the crates to protect the shells.
"Fifty-six degrees, deflection three degrees left, high charge," Elliah said. Fenn dropped the HE shell into the barrel. Instead of a solid thump, there was a fizzle, and the mortar shell barely popped out of the barrel. Elliah was already moving. "Short round, short round!" she screamed. She and Fenn threw themselves flat. Manrey came back, alerted by the shouting.
Fenn pointed to the unexploded shell. Manrey nodded, and he approached the dud. "What fuse did you set?" he demanded.
"Delayed fuse," said Fenn. "be careful, Manrey." Manrey gently handled the shell, careful not to jiggle any loose components. Elliah saw the stress on his face, he was barely keeping his nerves as he walked down the pier. When he was far enough away, Manrey tossed the shell into the water and ran back. A pillar of water burst as soon as the shell hit the surface.
Elliah breathed a sigh of relief. Fenneth was stunned. Manrey caught his look and sneered. "What are you looking at? Somebody had to do it, might as well be me."
"Thank you, Manrey," said Elliah, her voice hard. Manrey just grunted and shook his head.
Overhead, the scream of supersonic engines caught the Artemians' attention. Flying low and fast, a Marauder Destroyer was coming in for a strafing run. Six autocannons and two gatling guns tore a path through the Orks, chewing up the road, buildings and abandoned vehicles like they were paper. Rockrete, blood and snow mixed together in the bomber's wake. The mortar section cheered at the sight before setting themselves on the reeling Greenskins.
A wave of aircraft soared overhead, heading in the direction of the Rok. Over the water, a heavy storm was following the squall, turning the horizon pitch black.
Warboss Smashface had gathered his Nobz in the Rok's hangar. The giant Ork climbed atop a half scrapped fighter bomber, and bellowed at the crowd. "Dis is it, boyz! Dis is da day dat we get our propah WAAAGH! started! Da Mek says its gonna work dis time so long as hez got enuff juice fer da shock-generataz. So grab yer choppa, grab yer shoota, and follow me! Let's get our WAAAGH! on!"
The Orks cheered. Smashface grinned triumphantly as the boyz began to stomp and sing, "Smashface! Smashface! Smashface!" The Warboss raised a hand to quiet the crowd. When that failed, he shouted some more until the Nobz shut up.
"Now, listen up! Dere's no time for drillin' for dis, so quiet down. Any Boy wot wants to get to da fight either comes wif me or finds his own way off dis bleeding Rok! So I don't wanna turn around once I get to land and not see nuffin' following me! You get dat? You fly, you swim, you sail, but you get to land, and you get to stompin' some humies! Otherwise, I'll come back 'ere and stomp ya myself! IS DAT CLEAR?"
The Nobz roared in response. Smashface stomped through the crowd, leading the Nobz to the top of the Rok. Up here, the Imperial attacks had shaken the asteroid's metal skeleton loose, and several rock fragments had broken off. It was highly unstable, and that had been the spark of the Mek's genius plan.
Smashface hauled himself into an egg shaped chamber, strapping himself into the harness on the wall. The room sealed shut with a hiss. He punched the comm system. "Oi, Mek, we're ready to launch. Fire up da fing!"
"Will do, boss," responded the Mek, still deep in the bowels of the ship. The floor shook below the Warboss, and the growl of an enormous engine echoed up through the corridors. Other Orks started strapping themselves into other similar pods. The entire Rok shook, and the wail of the Mek's turbines blocked out every other sound.
"Da rest o' you lot better hold on to sumfin'!" laughed Smashface manically. "'Ere we go, 'ere we go, 'ere we go!"
Lieutenant Rike's mortar section was now working to root the Orks out of cover and into the machine guns' fields of fire. "Set mortars for airburst!" commanded Rike. "Flush those rats out to the water!"
The Artemian's emergency vox beeped. "All units, brace for storm surge!" The mortar section quickly gathered up their gear. No tarps would keep their ammo dry from a storm surge. They made for the building at the end of the pier. Rike took one last look back at the storm.
Flights of marauders were pulling back from the wall of rain. Lightning bolts shot across the sky, striking the Marauder group's tail, which then arced to each plane in the flight. One by one, the bombers exploded from the intense electrical shocks, falling out of the sky. Rike hurried everyone into the building, closing the door behind him. He peered through the windows, watching the horizon.
The Rok exploded. Only a massive wall of fire remained, growing steadily as countless secondary explosions detonated. An oily black cloud of smoke billowed out of the fortress. Hundreds of tiny fireballs shot out of the haze like a meteor shower, heading for shore. The surviving Marauders banked away, barely avoiding collision with the flaming rocks.
The shower peppered the coast. Guardsmen and Greenskin alike dove for cover as they came hurtling down. The rocks either embedded themselves in the ground or skidded across the surface, leaving a streak of flames in their wake. The freak barrage lasted a matter of seconds, and an uneasy silence followed. Then, all hell broke loose.
Colonel Nolt was livid. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on out there?" he shouted. From his headquarter chateau overlooking the lake, the lean colonel watched the battle spiral out of control. The brigade's carefully planned defenses were crumbling rapidly. The 455th was in full retreat, leaving the 31st stranded on the harbor piers. Nolt punched the glass, cracking it. "How the hell did the Orks manage to get off that Rok?"
Nobody had an answer. Orias didn't need one anyways. The Orks were here, dwelling on the how was pointless. Over the water, a fleet of Ork aircraft was chasing the fleeing Navy bombers. And skimming across the water was a wave of chinork helicopters, probably laden with additional troops.
An aide from the vox relay entered the room, carrying a stack of sheets. The man was pale, and he nervously handed the papers to Nolt. "Emergency vox reports, sir, from the ground forces. The new targets are elite Nobs. And there's something else. It's as we feared. The Warboss is leading them."
Nolt wasn't surprised, but he hid his concern. The Orks would flock to their leader like rats to a corpse. They couldn't hold against such an onslaught, Nolt conceded. He had to make a choice.
The Artemians were scattering below. Some of them might even survive, he thought. Nolt could preserve his regiments by ordering a tactical withdrawal. But the colonel had also been granted an opportunity to end the war right now. By killing the Warboss, the Orks would be leaderless, giving the Imperial Guard enough time to organize a decisive counterattack. And all it would cost him was his self respect, and several thousand soldiers.
He made his decision. "Get me a direct channel to the Battleship Aramatus. "Request an orbital lance bombardment on Golgotha Harbor. Destroy everything, just make sure the Warboss does not escape."
Author's note: A shorter chapter this time. I'm experimenting with update length. A short update with a lot of punch to try and balance out some of my longer ones which are more reliant on character and mood.