Five Miles Through Hell

The main spine of the Administratum Complex, the governor's palace, was belching flames into the night sky. Smoke black as tar was billowing out of the tower, and response crews were frantically trying to contain the blaze and cordon off the affected floors. There was no sign that the city itself had been attacked, but the palace had once again been targeted.

It had taken Hurst most of the day to bring the sled back to Capital Spire. Upon arrival, the Adeptus Arbites had contacted them again, this time without arming their weapons. The MACS brought the hoversled into a protective formation, escorting Merrick and Hurst into the city. They were directed to the Gulch, the large cut in the side of the spire used to dock massive supply ships.

Landing on a small pad in the Gulch, Merrick and Hurst were greeted by a team of black cloaked arbiters. Both troopers raised their hands above their heads. "If you're going to take us in," said Merrick, "at least be nice enough to look at this disk first."

The arbiters didn't raise their weapons. Confused, Merrick watched as the Arbites captain strode towards them. "Sergeant major Merrick, sergeant Hurst, I'm to escort you to Governor Derosa immediately. We received word of officer Talros's illegal operation a few days ago."

Hurst lowered his arms and spoke, "You're not here to arrest us, then? We were intercepted by two patrol ships over the dead zone earlier."

"We are looking into the incident, soldier. But recent events take priority. There has been a terrorist attack on the Governor's life."

Merrick looked up to the tower, still burning. "Does that have anything to do with it?" he asked dryly.

"Yes," said the captain, oblivious of Merrick's sarcasm. "Now please, follow me."

The guardsmen and their escort boarded the Arbites MACS and rose out of the Gulch. As they flew towards the tower, Merrick looked over the spire. More MACS were shining their lights on enormous crowds flooding the streets. Refugees, the pilot explained. With a full scale invasion engulfing Golgotha Spire, the Capital was the only safe haven for the displaced citizens.

There was so much he had to catch up on, Merrick realized. More than two weeks trapped in Angel Forge, and the rest of the planet had gone to hell when he wasn't looking. The Ork attack on Golgotha must have been huge to warrant a full evacuation.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at a private pad halfway up the palace tower. Merrick and Hurst were hurried inside by the Captain. It was one of the government meeting rooms, used by minor officials to handle day to day operations across the Spire. Governor Derosa sat at the table in the center of the room, allowing the medicae staff to tend to a nasty looking head wound. Standing watch over them was a red robed Techpriest, pistol in hand.

Merrick immediately went for his gun, but the Governor stopped him. "Wait, sergeant major, hold your fire! Engineseer Harchek is not your enemy. Please, let him explain."

He lowered his weapon, slowly. Elena Derosa was one of the few locals on Meridian Merrick fully trusted. "Alright, ma'am, if you say so. But if this cogboy makes a move, I will take his frakking head off. I am through with the goddamn mechanicus."

"I assure you, I am no threat, sergeant major," said Harchek. "I am one of those loyal to Logis Corsis, like you."

"I am loyal to the Emperor and to my friends," said Merrick sharply, "What little games did that old skeleton have you running?"

"I was Angel Forge's liaison to the governor's office," said Harchek. "The Magos sent an assassin after Derosa, but I was on hand to defend her."

A dead techpriest lay in the corner, leaking from bullet wounds that had ripped through his red garments. "The Magos's followers are difficult to tell apart for anyone who does not know where to look. I imagine they could hide anywhere the priesthood goes, and normal citizens would be none the wiser."

"Dolthem has made his intentions clear with this act," said Derosa. The medic wrapped a long bandage around her head. "Magos Dolthem is a traitor to the Imperium, and he must pay for this outrage."

Finally, somebody talking sense, thought Merrick. "Why did you send for us, ma'am?"

Derosa pointed to priest. "Harchek told me to. It seems you have had quite the adventure recently, sergeant major. Harchek has been most eager to speak with you."

Harcheck elaborated, "Logis Corsis sent a message to all loyal engineseers across Meridian. It was difficult to decipher, but I managed to extract his instructions. Corsis told us to offer you any help we can. When I realized you would come to Derosa, I had the governor send for you."

Merrick spoke. "How did you know we would come to Derosa, and not back to our own regiment?"

"Statistical probability, sergeant major."

"Oh?"

"The mechanicus was provided extensive dossiers on troopers in the Vendoland regiments, graciously provided to us by one Commissar Connor," said Harchek. "You have a predisposition to side with sergeant Hurst when taking decisive action, sergeant major. The numbers suggested he would come to the governor."

"Connor provided that info, huh?" said Merrick. Well, that just confirmed what the recordings had told him. "I guess she was a traitor, after all."

The engineseer disagreed, "Not a traitor, Merrick. A double agent. Connor played a very dangerous game to infiltrate the Magos's inner circle, but it paid off. Corsis managed to submit her espionage results to us from under Dolthem's nose. She has proven to be indispensible to our cause."

Harchek holstered his weapon. He walked across the room and held out a gloved hand to Merrick. "Now, I believe that you have something I wish to see. Corsis would not have entrusted you with data unless he had faith you could deliver it safely."

"And you are alright with this, Governor?" Merrick asked Derosa.

"He has proven himself to be trustworthy, sergeant major. Give him what he needs."

"Alright then."

Merrick handed the MIU chip to the engineseer. The priest connected the chip to his head. He stood still for several seconds, the lights on his chest and his optics clusters blinking rapidly. He suddenly broke into spasms where he stood. Servomotors uttered a high pitched whine as they nearly overloaded.

Harchek could barely speak without his voice stuttering, "Sergeant major, do you know what is on this chip?"

"Yeah," mumbled Merrick trying to remember everything Corsis had made him research, "tank schematics, security recordings, shipping orders, that sort of thing. Why?"

Harchek pulled the chip free, nearly collapsing after he did. "There is far more than that on here, Merrick. This chip, it contains the entire contents of Angel Forge's heart. There is thousands of years worth of information on here, possibly the entire manifest and schematics for Angel Forge from its inception!"

"What?" said Merrick, bemused. "But, he had me looking for specific stuff. If it was a simple as downloading the entire Heart of the Forge, why have us search through files like that?"

"He only needed access to the forge," suggested Hurst. "All we did was access what we could from the terminals, but Corsis saw everything we did through our connection. Perhaps that was all he needed."

Merrick threw up his hands, disgusted. "So, he used us, just like that bastard Talros. Goddamn, I hate this." He glared at Harchek, who was admiring the small MIU chip like it was a work of art. "Was any of the intel we gathered worth it to you?"

Harchek barely paid notice to the them, "Oh, sergeant major, what you have delivered to us is worth more than a hundred worlds. But our work is not done. The treacherous Dolthem must pay for his heresy. His corruption will doom Angel Forge before its true wonders can be unlocked."

Merrick crossed his arms and shook his head. "No way, I'm not doing any more of your dirty work, priest. Find someone else."

"Very well, I will ask no more of you, then," said Harchek, unfazed. He looked to Derosa. "Madam, I must request your aid in this matter. Angel Forge must be retaken, and soon. The greater priesthood must be made aware of the Magos's crimes. We will need men, and provisions. It will take an army to break his hold on the manufactorums."

Derosa stood upright, struggling to keep her balance. But the tough governor put on a strong face and addressed the anxious techpriest, "I will send the request, Harchek, in the morning. For now, we must look to our own defenses, in case Dolthem's saboteurs have struck elsewhere this night."

Harchek thanked the governor over and over before excusing himself from the room. Head throbbing, Derosa waved over the two Vendolanders. "I have to thank you once more, gentlemen. Whatever you wish, you will have it. What do you desire?"

Merrick shrugged noncommittally. "A shower and a warm bed. After that, well, there's nothing I want more than to get back to my men. I'm not cut out for subterfuge, ma'am. I'm a soldier, not a spy."

"To be honest, governor, I am in agreement," said Hurst. "We've been away from the regiment too long."

"Then it will be done." Derosa summoned an orderly, a young page in a maroon silk robe. "Take these men to the nobles' suites. Offer them every courtesy. And don't start playing humble, sergeant major. You would insult me by turning down my generosity. Take it, and enjoy it. I know it's more than the Guard often gets."

Merrick had to laugh. "Well, ma'am, when you put it like that, it looks like I'll have no choice but to accept."

The page led them to the suites. The rooms were large and extravagant. The walls were adorned with antique swords that rested on carven plaques. Some of the finest paintings Capital Spire's artisans had produced hung next to the pair of enormous beds that dominated the far wall. Behind this wall, two doors opened onto a great balcony, a spectacular overlook that presented the Spire in all its glory.

Merrick and Hurst ignored all these and immediately passed out on the beds.

The Rok stood firm against the imperial barrage. From midnight onward, every available artillery battery from Temple Hill's southern face had been firing relentlessly at the structure. Now, six hours later, nearly fifty thousand imperial guardsmen stood ready to assault the Ork fortress.

At the front were the 85th Vendoland, the Cadian Xenobane, and the Dyneemek Jaegers, together comprising just over twenty thousand men. Two full divisions of Maveron Infantry, the 311th and 316th, were held in reserve, ready to move forward at a moment's notice. Together, they formed a force of armor, infantry and artillery that represented fully two thirds of Imperial manpower in the west sector.

As shells whirred overhead, Major Armand Lester took one last look through his binoculars. The greenskins were massing at the base of their fortress. There were thousands of them, far more than had hit the Imperial line days before. The plan had worked, though Lester was beginning to worry it had worked a little too well.

With Warboss Smashface engaging the bulk of the Imperial Guard along Golgotha's east bank, Colonel Moran and Crassus had come up with a daring plan to relieve pressure from the main army. The guard in the west sector would strike at the Ork fortress, drawing the xenos back into the island, allowing for a swift counterattack by the main force. It was risky, but the only alternative was digging in for a protracted war of attrition.

The key to the plan's success hinged on the Maveron regiments. Though inexperienced compared to the veteran Vendoland, Cadian and Artemian units, they far outnumbered the other regiments. Maveron provided Imperial Guard tithes in bulk. There were twenty divisions of operating in the Golgotha theatre alone, three hundred thousand men. When the greenskins were drawn into the trap, the Maverons would charge forward to reinforce the elite units, overwhelming the xenos with sheer numbers.

Lester was going in with the first wave. 1st and 2nd Battalions of the 85th were to maintain the flanks of the Cadian Xenobane. The Cadians would form an armoured spearhead to take the fight to the Orks. Three Baneblades and dozens of Leman Russ and Rogal Dorn tanks would attract the greenskins like flies to a corpse. Crassus would bring up the rear with the 85th's 3rd Battalion.

The Major tested his power fist. The weapon had been specially fitted the day before, and Lester was eager to try it out. Despite its size, he found it quite lightweight and easy to use. The greenskins would be in for a surprise.

His vox operator, Murtonn called him over. "That was the Navy, sir. We have air support standing by."

"Good," said Lester. He straightened his helmet, "Send word to Colonel Moran that our units are in position, and ready to move on his command."

Captain Tyrell listened as Helios Squadron sounded off. They were high above the city, waiting for the signal to drop on the Ork formation. The Thunderbolt squadron was on ground attack duty, and so their fighter jets had been fitted with large fuel pods to increase their loiter time. Tyrell already knew that it was going to be another long day.

Less than two weeks of action over Golgotha and his squadron had already lost four of the original twelve pilots. Lieutenant Hexus being shot down on the first day of the invasion had hit the rest of the pilots hard. Now, the surviving members of Helios had to babysit their fallen brethren's replacements. They were still far too green for Tyrell's liking, and few survived their first sortie.

Davoss had taken over as his second. Before him, it had been Narklos, and before that, Hexus. After Valeris had gone down, the second spot seemed cursed. Narklos had only been in the position three days before a junker had blasted his fuselage in two. Davoss had survived longest, but suspicion still hung around the hot seat.

The storm was beginning to break, moving northwards up the coast of Lake Aradine, and sunshine was finally shining across the Spire. In the storm wouldn't have risked the low flying attack runs. Tyrell had heard about some madmen from the Marauder Wings doing strafing runs through the blizzard itself, but he'd chalked that up to exaggeration. He wasn't stupid enough to willingly dive through low cloud cover.

Tyrell's vox crackled. The techs had managed to alleviate the poor communications by amplifying the receiver's output. The static was still there, but it wasn't impenetrable anymore. "Helios one, this is Golgotha 3 control. Ground forces are a go, you're cleared for close air support."

"Copy that, control," Tyrell switched to the squadron's closed band vox link. "Okay, boys, we've got the green light to engage. Rookies, follow your flight leaders at six o'clock high and watch what they do. No sense in you smearing yourselves over the deck like strawberry jam."

The squadron sounded off in agreement. Tyrell led them in a prayer. When he finished Davoss took to the vox. "Helios squadron, we are the Sun! Cast our light upon the enemies of man, and burn 'em all! Fire from the sky!"

"Fire from the sky!" repeated the pilots. Helios broke into their individual flights, and set into a dive. Tyrell felt his control surfaces shaking from the extreme forces, but he held it together. Luesan Island rose up to greet them, choked with billowing black clouds from a million fires.

Coming in closer, the fighter pilots began to make out the enemy units milling around the base of the Rok. Tyrell switched to hunter killer missiles and waited for the target lock to turn red.

Streaking missiles smashed into the greenskin armor formations, followed shortly by a series of sonic booms. Uther looked up to barely catch sight of the last Thunderbolt before it rocketed out of view. The attack came so fast and so sudden that, before the Orks had time to regroup, three more thunderbolt flights had followed through on the airstrike, sending the xenos reeling. Unable to keep up with the fast moving fighter bombers, the Rok's anti-air cannons ineffectually spurted flak shells into the sky.

4th company was poised to advance along the Xenobane's left flank with the rest of 1st Battalion. Dug in along a line of sandbags and aegis walls, they stood at the edge of greenskin territory. The morning's bombardment had flattened most of the hab blocks leading up to the Rok, leaving a wilderness of twisted metal and crumbling rockcrete.

Their Chimera transports hummed, engines idling. The vehicles had been refitted with heavy bolter and autocannon turrets, effectively turning the transports into ad hoc tanks. They needed all the firepower they could get, and it was worth sacrificing mobility for an extra punch. Only five of the company's eight Chimeras were active, though. Uther hoped it would be enough, even with the up-gunned turrets.

He turned his attention to the troopers themselves, passing by each squad in the company. He was still down twenty troopers with injuries, but the reserve battalion had brought 4th company up to about one hundred and eighty men. The reservists weren't exactly green, none of the Vendolanders were, but Uther still made sure that his top NCOs were guiding them. For many, this would be their first pitched battle.

Uther finished his walk down the line. Connor was waiting for him at the end. He still couldn't look at her directly after the night before. The investigation into the firefight was underway, but the regiment could not afford being down a company any longer. Whatever feelings on the incident had to be put away for the time being. The Imperial Guard needed soldiers on the frontline, now.

Vornas had been held back, however. While Uther had no control over Connor, he was still the company commander. The dissident grenadier was being held under guard by sergeant Nakann and a squad of reservists. He had yet to decide on what punishment Vornas deserved. Being away from the fight would have to do for now until Uther thought of something.

The Commissar nodded when he approached her. There was no warmth in his eyes or his voice as he spoke, "Take your contingent up the left side of the street, use the buildings for cover. 2nd company is supporting us, so watch your lanes of fire. We do this like any other fight, we sweep the way clear, building by building. No unnecessary risks."

"Understood," she said. She looked at the scar on Lars's cheekbone he'd received last night. It was still raw, and the bitter cold made it stand out all the more as his face flushed red. Lars had taken many wounds during the regiment's time in the subsector, but that was the only one that Connor could blame on herself. "We move on your order, captain."

"Carry on, then." Uther turned back and returned to his place on the line. The shelling continued, intermixed with the repeated airstrikes. Tensions grew among the men as they continued to wait, growing more anxious by the minute.

Colonel Moran watched the bombardment from the Baneblade Antonis Secundus's hololith display. With the Ork's in disarray, he knew it was time. Raynis took the vox speaker and switched to the command channel. With the interference and now rumors of jamming, the closed band waves were the only effective way to relay orders. It would be up to the individual regimental commanders to pass them onto the troops.

"All Imperial units, this is Moran. Green light to engage. We are go."

At the seventh hour, the Imperial Guard advanced. Between them and the Rok was five kilometers of half destroyed buildings, hundreds of armored vehicles, and thousands upon thousands Orks.

They moved cautiously at first, using the tanks and transports as mobile cover. Down the center of the advance, the Xenobane's three super heavy tanks trundled inexorably towards the greenskins. Kasr's Pride, Hrud Stomper, and Antonis Secundus each led behind them ten leman russ tanks, and three rogal dorns. Behind them came the infantry, all eight thousand Cadians of the regiment.

The imperials came under fire almost immediately. A chaotic storm of heavy machine gun fire, explosive shells and armor piercing laser beams shot across the desolate landscape. One leman russ took an anti tank rocket to the front lower glacis. The driver was killed instantly, and the battle tank listed right into the side of a building. The weakened structure buckled from the hit, sending tonnes of brick and rockcrete down onto the stricken vehicle.

Unflinching, Colonel Moran sat in Antonis Secundus's command cupola, spotting for the heavy tank. He barked into the vox bead to the driver, "Fargos, hard right, move to cover the gap." Raynis switched to the closed channel linking each tank back to his command vehicle. "McTavish, we're moving to the right, you hold down the middle."

"Aye sir," came the husky voice of the tanker. As Moran's baneblade peeled away, Kasr's Pride swept forward, sponson and coaxial guns sputtering explosive rounds downrange. Orks in the open were popped like green melons, shredded by bolter fire. A few desperate greenskins stayed long enough to fire off another volley of rockets. The projectiles that had wrecked the first russ tank barely scratched the frontal armor of the Baneblade. The tankbusters were reduced to red and green mulch by the forward gunner's heavy bolter.

Despite the heavy fire, the greenskins weren't presenting Moran with many targets. The constant back and forth shelling by both sides had leveled most of the island's hab blocks, creating perfect cover for both sides. "Adranus 1 and 2," ordered Moran, "pull in beside Antonis and torch these buildings. Flush them out into the open."

A pair of Hellhound flame tanks rolled up alongside the Baneblade. Their promethium spewing inferno cannons could melt metal, and the gunners turned them on the bombed out shelters. Long jets of liquid flame spewed out, engulfing the buildings. Greenskins turned black by their burns stumbled out of hiding and were quickly killed.

The advance was moving slowly, but steadily. Anywhere the Baneblades turned their fire, xenos died, unable to effectively counter the Cadian assault. The Leman Russ tanks moved in perfect concert with the infantry platoons, each covering the other while they rooted out the Orks hab by hab. But to Moran, the standout performances came from the Rogal Dorn crews.

The Rogal Dorn battle tanks seemed made for street fighting. Their low profile and angled armor allowed the tanks to creep up on Ork emplacements alarmingly fast and unhindered, before blasting their defenses to rubble. While the short barreled variants dealt with the greenskin mobs, the long vanquisher armed tanks sniped at the incoming Ork armor from afar. They turned the enemy's cover against them, making the low tanks all but invisible.

There wasn't much room to maneuver off the main thoroughfares. Where tanks could not go, sentinel squadrons and infantry pushed across wrecked office complexes and ruined parks. Moran allowed his infantry officers as much flexibility as he could spare; he was an armored commander at heart. His place was in a tank, so he left the foot soldiers to follow their initiative.

It was something of a mixed blessing. The men all saw Moran as an exceptional leader, but that was due to their own successes, not his. He knew how to support infantry, but not command them. The sergeants and lieutenants did their jobs well, but he feared that if he fell, the cohesion between the tankers and the troopers would fall with him.

The greenskin armor was coming their way. The Cadian colonel saw them moving through his binoculars. Dozens of imperial tanks, looted from Golgotha's storehouses, and several assault walkers that towered over the tallest Orks. Moran knew that the casualties would soon mount. He could see it even now, as resistance to the advance began to intensify. They had only struck the outlying forces. The true fight was still ahead.

On the left flank, the Vendoland 1st Battalion had become bogged down in street to street fighting. Orks, using the warrens of tunnels that ran below the city's surface, had ambushed them, leading to several fierce firefights. Caught in brutal close quarters fighting, dozens of Guardsmen fell to the greenskins, led by vicious Kommando Nobs.

Major Lester sidestepped a lunging kommando and swung his power fist into the brute's exposed side. Upon contact, the weapon's energy discharge hit he greenskin with the force of a lascannon. The kommando went flying, a fist shaped dent left in his armor.

"1st Company, with me!" he roared, raising his fist to rally the men. Two hundred guardsmen pressed onward towards their current target, a miraculously intact hab block. A small cafe grew out of the side of the grey slab, where it rested in ruin. 1st company stormed through the hab's access hatches.

Inside, the guardsmen met Ork axes with power fists, chainswords and bayonets. Bright flashes of lasgun fire ripped through the walls, and the orange wash of trooper Lerdann's flamer illuminated the corridors leading further into the building. The center of the hab block was a large, rectangular room with a twisting stairway leading to the upper level.

"Sarthis, second floor, go! I want eyes above," shouted the major. Lieutenant Sarthis, 1st Company's CO, quickly organized a detail to take the stairs. Despite being thrust into command following Captain Treig's death, had taken to the role well.

"Darnett, your men are with me. Lerdann, you're up front."

The flame trooper nodded silently. As the rest of the company secured the ground floor, he cautiously edged his way up the stairwell. He was two steps from the top when he took a shot to the tanks. The propellant tank burst, and Lerdann was thrown hard into the wall. His promethium tank was mercifully intact, but without propellant, his flamethrower was little better than a club.

Darnett's men raced up behind him, firing over the rim of the staircase at whoever had hit Lerdann. Sarthis lobbed a grenade down the hall, blowing a wooden door to splinters. The greenskins returned fire around corners and from several rooms off the main corridor. The platoon cleared each room in turn, throwing a grenade in each before peppering the inside with gunfire.

Sergeant Darnett went down with from a wound he took in the stomach. A gretchin with a shotgun cackled with delight before the rest of Darnett's squad caught up with him and extracted their revenge.

Sarthis's vox bead bleeped. "Lieutenant, report! What's taking so long?"

"Sorry major, we're knee deep in greenskins up here," said Sarthis. He snapped off a few bursts of covering fire while the troopers rushed the next set of rooms.

"I'm sending up another squad, lieutenant. Keep going and watch for friendlies from the rear!"

"Copy that, Major," said Sarthis, relieved. He closed the vox link. A dozen more troopers hit the second floor, bringing another flamer with them as well as grenade launchers. Sarthis's team attacked the Ork defenders with renewed vigor, rooting them from their hiding spots.

Ten minutes later, the second floor was cleansed. Corpsmen had come to retrieve Lerdann and Darnett. Lerdann had a concussion, while Darnett was pale from blood loss. Sarthis collected his troopers before moving ahead. He had about thirty men, all told. They moved through the hab block until they reached the far side's entry hatch. Sarthis opened the hatch and a whoosh of cold air blew down the corridor.

A bridge connected the building to the next hab block across the side street. The cabling upholding the bridge looked frayed in places, and it sagged disturbingly to one side. Sarthis called up Goldemar, "You're light on your feet, corporal. Get across and see if it will hold for the rest of us."

The corporal complied. With almost catlike grace, he hopped across the bridge without upsetting its balance one bit. "It's steady," Goldemar called, waving them over. Sarthis followed him over, and one by one, the 1st company troopers crossed the gap.

Sarthis hailed Lester on the vox again. "Major, we're through. Look up to your left."

"I see you. Good work, now get onto the rooftop and provide covering fire."

"Will do, sir."

An inset ladder next to the hab block's entrance hatch took them up to the top. The flat roof was cratered and fallen through in several places, but Sarthis's men had enough room to set up on the southern terrace. From here, they had an excellent vantage point to cover the Major's push and respond to enemy counterattacks.

Sarthis looked over the ruined city in terrified awe. Ahead of them, the city of Golgotha had given way to a sea of greenskins.

The lead Chimera exploded in spectacular fireball. The Ork zapp gun had gone straight through the front of the vehicle and ignited the extra ammunition it was carrying. The rounds began to cook off inside before the hull split apart, sending bolter shells and autocannon rounds flying in every direction.

Two 4th company guardsmen caught stray rounds from the blast and dropped dead instantly. Uther screamed for a corpsman to gather them. 4th and 2nd companies had pooled together for protection. They were following the up-gunned Chimeras along the street, engaging greenskins that had been forced out of their holes. 1st company was to their right, clearing out a two storey building, inch by bloody inch.

Ahead of them was a square marketplace. At the center, a crumbling statue of an old hero of the Imperium stood defiant in the face of the madness surrounding it. "Hunder, get up here!" shouted Uther. The grenadier lieutenant was followed by both the Daredevils and the Trench Skippers, now replenished with new recruits.

"That statue is our next goal, Hunder," said the captain, "Take the square and hold onto it like the Emperor himself ordered you to."

"Aye sir!" Lieutenant Hunder turned to the grenadiers. "You heard the man, let's move!"

Two Chimeras moved forward to provide heavy support for the grenadiers. The Daredevils and Trench Skippers fell in behind the transports for cover. Kippler peered around the tank through his weapon's scope. Ork weapon teams were set in behind the stone wall ringing the statue. Their twin linked machine guns sputtered and rattled as the Chimeras got into range.

The treaded vehicles returned fire, autocannon rounds chipping apart the stonework defense. Hunder broke out from cover, leading his two squads behind him. They went in fast and hard, each team covering the other, just as they had at Luesan Canal. The machine gun team, Garrett and Serrt, rushed for the collapsed building to their right, setting up their heavy stubber in the rubble. Once in place, they added their suppressing fire to the Chimera's support.

Kippler moved like the wind. Even running, he was a great marksman. One, two, three greenskins fell with clean shots to their heads. A fourth took a hotshot round to the neck, and he crumpled, gargling flash boiled blood that filled his toothy maw.

When they reached the square, Kippler pulled the Daredevils left to clear their flanks. Before they could round the corner, however, a flurry of rockets swished past them. Three projectiles hit the flat side of one of the Chimeras. The crew compartment blew open in a swirling fireball. Kippler could hear the men inside screaming. The Daredevils spotted the tankbusters and laid down a withering hail of hellgun and hotshot fire, not stopping until the greenskins stopped quivering.

Lieutenant Hunder and Ennis's Trench Skippers took the square in a swift bayonet charge. Corporal Ortann had leapt over the low wall and come crashing down on the Ork gunner. His bayonet sank into the monster's flesh, and Ortann blasted away at point blank with his hellgun. The next second, his head was lopped off by the Nob leader's chainaxe. Ennis personally avenged Ortann by slaying his killer, and a half dozen more Orks that came crawling out of the surrounding habs.

"Hunder, this is Kippler! Left flank secure!"

"Copy that, Soras. Pull your men back to the statue and dig in. We've got inbound hostiles."

A strange, pulsing whir called out over the firefight below. Flying above the battle, an Ork helicopter was closing in on the square. It's counter-rotors beat incessantly, and the pilot seemed like he was trying to sync up his gunfire with the rhythm, like some mad composer.

The Daredevils fell in just as the chopper dove on them. It made a screaming pass overhead, all guns firing, but the pilot somehow missed them. It did not, however, miss the last Chimera. The tank had seen the chopper coming, and had already prepped it's only hunter killer missile. Both vehicles fired their payload at the same time. The Chimera was reduced to scrap metal, and the chopper careened into the ground.

The grenadiers settled into firing positions. They were under attack from three sides by the greenskins. Garrett's hand was blown off and he fell away from the stubber, leaving Serrt to man it alone. Alek dropped down beside Kalan and swiftly wrapped a tight tourniquet around his bloody stump. He then stabbed Kalan with a heavy injection of painkillers.

Hunder checked the gunner over. "Can you still shoot with your other hand?" Garrett nodded, panting and fighting back pain. Hunder pulled out his laspistol sidearm and handed it to Garrett. "Make sure you don't miss, trooper."

Beryn Mathis took over feeding the stubber's ammo belts. The weapon was no heavy bolter, but it was lighter and still carried a hefty punch. Serrt gunned down the greenskins remorselessly. When he wasn't sour, he was hard as ice, especially under pressure. Corporal Mathis didn't like the man, but he couldn't help but respect him.

"Tendall, get on the vox to the Captain!" said Hunder. With their armor support gone, the Orks were encroaching on the square once again. They would run out of ammo before they ran out of targets. Kippler continued to make steady kills, but he was only one man.

More deffkopters were coming their way, as well as strange, five foot high tank-like contraptions. These small vehicles sputtered and belched black smoke, and looked like they would fall apart at any moment. But their guns worked, and they peppered the square with even more machine gun fire.

Alek pulled off the vox pack he wore and dialed in the company's command channel. "Captain Uther, this is Daredevil team! Square is under heavy fire, but we're still holding."

"I hear you, Daredevil team," came Uther's response. "Sit tight, we're nearly there."

Helios Squadron, their missile payloads spent, continued to provide air cover for the assault. As the Imperial Guard pushed closer and closer to the Rok, the resistance intensified. The Orks were throwing everything they had into the fight. Davoss had also called in some disheartening news: thousands more Orks were flocking towards the Imperials from the eastern half of the island. The plan had worked too well; the Guardsmen in the west sector were facing the full might of the xenos forces.

With the arriving Orks had come their air force. Despite the savaging both sides had taken, the greenskins could repair their junkers far quicker than the Imperials could their Thunderbolts. Add in the readily available supply of greenskins insane enough to pilot their death traps, and the numbers had quickly turned on the Navy planes. More than fifty fighters and dakkajets were racing towards Commander Tyrell's dozen MP-47s.

"All flights, fall in, diamond formation," he said. Tyrell's flight of three took the front lower position. Davoss's wingmen covered the top rear, and Wernor and Asnid's flights covered the left and right. The swarm of junkers was almost on top of them. "Full burn, boys. Clear the road and let them trail us."

The Thunderbolts hit their afterburners, leaving streaking contrails in their wake. Tyrell checked his autocannons. He had just under five hundred rounds left, more than enough to put down a few more fighters. Vox and auspex reports indicated that a friendly squadron was two minutes out and closing quickly. Helios just had to hold on long enough to be there when they arrived.

In less than thirty seconds, the two formations met. Tyrell greeted them with a volley of cannon fire, causing the dakkajets to veer to either side. One suicidal Ork stayed dead center however, more than willing to play chicken. Tyrell's guns chugged, and he banked right at the last second. His left wingtip was sheared off by the junker's guns, but he's gotten the bastard. Davoss confirmed the wreck was aflame and falling fast.

Tyrell's wingmen were gone. They hadn't been so lucky, and the junkers had caught them. The commander nursed back the throttle a bit to compensate for his damaged wing. His aileron was shredded, severely hampering his ability to roll. He'd need to rely on the Thunderbolt's thrust vectored engines for tight maneuvers.

Davoss lost his left wingman, leaving only himself and Karcy. Two dakkajets had gotten on their tail, nipping at them with gunfire. "Karcy, Phantine Weave, now!" he shouted into his vox. Karcy acknowledged, and the two Thunderbolts initiated the maneuver.

The two MP-47s went into a shallow dive, picking up speed and weaving in and out of each other's flight paths. The dakkajets took the bait and went after Karcy's fighter. Veering inward from their third weave, Davoss kept his thumb on the trigger. His angle of attack was good. The moment Karcy passed his targeting reticle, Davoss opened up.

The two jets pursuing the second Thunderbolt flew right into his firing arc, getting shredded in the process. One was destroyed instantly, but the other limped on. Davoss pulled his '47 into a tight loop and came back down on the junker, finishing it off with a burst from his lascannons.

"Helios one, this is two. Where are you?" said Davoss, looking around. He couldn't see Tyrell's fighter anywhere. The two jet formations had dissolved into an aerial tumble, making tracking a target extremely difficult.

"Two, this is one," came Tyrell's voice. "I've taken a few hits and I'm drifting about two hundred meters below the furball, north-northeast."

Davoss spied the stricken bird. The damage was a lot worse than Tyrell could tell. "Sir, you've got shrapnel in your left engine's intake vent. It also looks like you're leaking coolant. How well can you fly?"

"Not well, left control surfaces are shot. Take over, Davoss, I'm a sitting duck up here. Just hold out until the rest of the fighter wing arrives."

"Are you gonna be alright, sir?" asked Davoss.

"Yeah, I'll try to pull her over friendly lines and then bail out. Good luck, boys. Make sure you stay alive so I can cover your tab later."

"Copy that, sir," said Davoss. And good luck to you too, sir.

Helios's sister squadron, Dauntless, arrived shortly. With a flurry of precise deflection shots, eight preoccupied junkers were shot down in as many seconds. The other ork fighters broke off, only to be chased down by the new arrivals.

Helios had taken a pounding. Only five fighters were left airborne by the end of the dogfight, and only two were undamaged. Davoss thanked Dauntless squadron's commander for the assist and pulled his remaining pilots back towards the airbase to repair and rearm. They would be going up again soon enough.

There was a reason that most of the tankers in the Xenobane had aural augmetics. The noise of their cannons and the constant rumbling and clanking of their tanks left most deaf after a only a few battles. This fight would go down as one of the loudest. Whether it was the earth shattering blast of the Baneblades' casemate demolisher cannons, or the ear splitting shriek of gigantic Ork war beasts, no voice could be heard above the noise.

And that was just the way McTavish liked it. Kasr's Pride was on the warpath. At his order, Wesky depressed the foot trigger for the main gun. The Baneblade roared. The Squiggoth ahead of them had its head obliterated by the shell. The beast toppled over, crushing greenskins underneath its bulk before the gun carriage on its back burst into flames.

"Sunner, blow a hole in that sucker's belly," howled McTavish. He was loving this, being in the thick of battle. Sunner, the demolisher cannon gunner, lobbed a shell at the dead beast that blew it in half in a shower of blood, fat and scales.

The tank column passed through the grotesque passage McTavish had cleared. They were within spitting distance of the Rok, now looming above them, high as a skyscraper. Hrud Stomper took point while Kasr's Pride held back to unpack more ammunition and cover the rest of the column. McTavish took the time to look back at the ground they had gained.

A sea of shattered tanks, Imperial and Ork, lay in the wake of the Xenobane's assault. Two dozen looted vehicles had engaged the Cadians in a point blank engagement, causing massive casualties to both sides. McTavish counted at least ten Leman Russes knocked out, and every last greenskin clanker. He didn't even bother to try counting the footslogger casualties, he knew they were high.

Deffkopters whirred overhead, firing rockets and being a nuisance. The Cadians responded with their Hydra flak tanks and their rapid fire autocannons. Missile pod sentinel walkers added their firepower as well. The air was tinged with the stench of propellant. McTavish was thankful for his Baneblade's air filters.

Colonel Moran's voice flickered across the vox, ordering a halt to the advance. McTavish moaned, but he followed orders. Kasr's Pride rolled up beside the other two super heavies and set itself in hull down position to avoid enemy fire. The tank commander popped open his cupola hatch and looked over to Moran's vehicle.

"Why are we stopping?" McTavish shouted to the colonel. "They're right there, let's finish them!"

"We hold here and wait for the infantry, commander," said Moran sternly. "They need to catch up."

McTavish looked back. They had outrun the grunts. The nearest Cadian platoons were nearly a kilometer behind them, still fighting their way through the ruins. McTavish banged the side of the turret. "What is the point of fighting in a tank if we have to wait for the bloody infantry all the time?"

"You know the answer, McTavish," scolded Moran. "Tanks support infantry. Infantry are the Imperial Guard's most vital resource. Without the other, neither armor nor infantry is truly effective."

"I can spout bullshit from the Infantryman's Uplifting Primer, too, you know," retorted McTavish, indignant.

Moran was growing tired of the commander's impatience. "I don't care if you can quote the Codex Astartes from memory, McTavish. We hold here and consolidate our gains. We'll be moving again soon enough. Until then, shut up."

Connor pried her power sword out of the Nob's carcass. The commissar had misjudged her augmented strength, and the blade had gone straight through the greenskin and pinned itself in the wall behind it. She was still getting used to her new power, and she kept overexerting herself.

Her three platoons finished mopping up the last of the Ork pack. With Whelm dead and Lonnis infirmed, it was up to Connor and lieutenant Cardan Pierce to lead the seventy or so guardsmen. They had slowly drifted westward as they picked over a collapsed power generating station, divided from Uther's advance by an impassable mountain of rubble. Their one remaining Chimera crept slowly down the street, far more cautious after the lead tank had struck a mine.

Elle looked up. The clear skies were crosshatched with jet contrails. Occasionally, there would be a bright flash of orange when a plane was shot down. Like the fight on the ground, the air battle above appeared to be growing in size with each passing minute. Organized Imperial formations collided with ragtag mobs of Xenos craft.

Captain Uther voxed the Commissar. "Elle, sitrep. Where are you?"

Pierce's adjutant, Andon, held up the data-slate charts for Connor. "We've just passed Generator Station Sigma-7. Cleared out around fifty greenskins."

"We've just taken a market square. Still lots of resistance up ahead, though. Can you assist?"

"Will do, where do you need us?"

"Look for the headless statue on your left, you can't miss it."

"Copy that, we're on our way."

Uther wasn't sure how exactly the grenadiers had taken the square in the first place. By the time he had arrived with his platoon, the Daredevils and Trench Skippers were huddled behind the bullet riddled statue, facing down a dozen tankettes. Gretchin hanged off the side of the vehicles, firing pistols and throwing anything they could at the beleaguered soldiers. The Chimera escorts were smoking wrecks, disabled early in the fight.

Corporal Gellry, 4th's sole plasma gunner and the bravest soul in the company, hefted his ancient weapon and aimed it at the tanks. Praying that the gun wouldn't explode in his hands, Gellry charged up the coils, now glowing an intense blue. The superheated bolt fired out and hit a grot tank, enveloping the vehicle in a furious corona of energy. Gellry breathed a sigh of relief at his fortune.

The guardsmen quickly realised that the tankettes were simply printed metal sheets strapped over a pair of tracks. Their lasguns fired right through the armored vehicles. Six troopers were hit by machine gun fire, but in as many minutes, the tankettes were knocked out. 4th company quickly spread out to cover the square.

Another Ork push was coming up the streets on the right, but before it reached Uther's group, a flurry of enfilading fire ripped into the greenskins. Commissar Connor charged out an adjoining street, leading her men in a bayonet charge. Uther's group in turn blasted away at the engaged Orks before they too met the mob in close quarters combat.

Hacking and slicing his way through the xenos, Uther found himself back to back against Connor. They shared a momentary glance before turning to their next opponents. Men and Orks fought each other with savage blows and point blank shots. Eventually, the Vendolanders' superior numbers won the day, and the Orks were killed to a man.

Breathing heavily, Uther shouted a roll call. Twenty casualties, nine of them dead, but 4th company was still intact. He ordered a detail to pull the wounded back to the aid station. The rest of the company would press onwards. The Rok towered above them, they were nearly there.

After sixteen hours of unceasing combat, the Imperial Guard had reached their objective, the outskirts of the Ork fortress. Walls of rusted metal and the city's own ruined hab buildings were welded into a ramshackle curtain wall surrounding the Rok itself. The wasteland had given way to Ork habitats and shelters built out of the ruins of Golgotha.

To the troopers marching through the streets, it appeared as a bizarre facsimile of an Imperial settlement if it had been drawn by an imaginative child. Workshops and homesteads jutted out of the wreckage at strange angles. Aluminum towers draped in yellow Ork banners marked every street corner. Small, unnamed Orkoid life forms skittered away at the Guard's approach. In just under two weeks, the heart of Luesan Island had become a fully adapted Ork ecosystem.

The cost had been staggering. Taking the brunt of the assault, the Cadians had suffered nearly three thousand casualties, and over half of their armor support. The Dyneemek Jaegers had all but been annihilated in the fierce fighting. Only the second advance by the 316th Maveron Division had prevented the right flank from totally collapsing.

The Vendolanders suffered nearly seven hundred casualties. Most of them came from 2nd battalion. 7th Company had been obliterated by a shock assault from a squadron of Ork deff dreads. Captain Caius and one hundred and seventy nine troopers were confirmed dead, with the rest listed as MIA. The other casualties were spread out amongst the regiment, a testament to the ferocious resistance the Ork horde had put up.

The Ork casualties numbered far higher. Over twelve thousand Orks and three hundred vehicles were confirmed killed or destroyed. The rest had fallen back to the Rok or Warboss Smashface's approaching army. Even as the sun set, Ork guns were already beginning to bombard the new Imperial positions before they could dig in.

There was no staying here, thought Major Lester as he walked among the troops. The attack had halted for the night, but it would start up again at first light. Until then, the Vendolanders rested when they could.

Well, most of them. Lester was collecting volunteers on Colonel Moran's suggestion. They needed to keep up the offensive through the night, so the Cadian command was organizing a number of night raids to probe the strength of the curtain wall. A direct assault without proper intelligence would be suicide, and it could throw back all the gains the Guard had made if it failed.

Most of the volunteers came from the grenadier platoons in each company. Sergeant Kippler, corporal Mathis and gunner Serrt from 4th company. Orask and Atlen from 2nd. Lieutenant Sarthis from 1st Company brought an entire platoon with him. 3rd Company offered six grenadiers from Warmaster squad .

The volunteers gathered at the forward command tent for their briefing. Major Lester stood to the side to allow Colonel Crassus to address the men. "I understand that this day has been a tough one, men. Your willingness to undertake this mission means a lot to me. I am proud to call you Vendolanders."

A murmur of approval rippled through the guardsmen. Crassus continued, "By dusk tomorrow, I want that Rok in ruins. We don't have much time before the enemy warboss arrives with his main force. Anything that can be done to expedite this fortress's collapse, I want it done. To accomplish this, Colonel Moran intends to cripple the Rok's defenses ahead of tomorrow's attack. That means breaching the curtain wall, disabling gun batteries, and diminishing the Ork's ability to fight back.

"Your mission will be twofold. Your priority is to breach the curtain wall and clear a path for the main force. Use any means possible, tube charges, det-tape, IEDS, anything. Your second objective will be to infiltrate the Rok itself. Get inside and cause as much damage as possible. I know it sounds like a suicide mission, but this could be the difference between a hundred dead men and a thousand. You won't be alone on this. The Cadians and the Maverons are also deploying teams to achieve similar ends."

Sarthis asked, "Where's out insertion point?"

Crassus pushed the chart over to let the team see. He pointed to a tunnel entrance. "Here," the colonel said, "this is your way in. You'll go under the wall and inside. The tunnel network goes directly under the wall and the Rok. A few well placed explosives should bring a whole section down."

Crassus stood upright, "Are there anymore questions?"

The was no response from the troopers. "Alright, then. Grab some shuteye, you move in two hours. Emperor protect you."

The Vendolanders chanted in unison, "The Emperor protects."