Help us help us help us help us help us help us help us
"Who are you?" Macara bellowed silently into the storm. Everywhere there was dust. Dust, and nothing at all.
Help us help us help us help us help us help us help us
"Who are you?" Macara bellowed again. Again he received no answer.
At the corners of his vision, he could see figures, in shadow, dancing and bounding. Yet every time he looked, they were gone, as if disappearing under his gaze.
The figures were moving into the dust, and Macara followed.
He followed for what seemed an age, and yet what seemed to be no time at all. Through the dust he went, leaving no tracks.
The figures stopped bounding suddenly, shadows in the near-distance. Still the colonel found he could not look at them without them melting into the background.
"What do you want from me?"
A shadow moved through the dust, and the other shadows, still on the periphery of his vision, recoiled.
The shape before him coalesced into a shape, at once both terrifying as it was dreadful.
A two metre tall metal Skelton stalked towards him, stopping bare metres away. It carried a staff of the most horrific green light; the same light that shone from its eyes, lighting the pale silver face and the swirls of dusk around it.
The thing pointed its staff. Macara flinched at the action as green light enveloped him. His skin, his flesh, all the layers of his being were being torn from him, torn sucked back towards the staff…..Macara fought to scream, but his body was already gone, and his blackened bones spilled into the dust…
Macara started, blinking and looking round. He was still in the command centre on the transport ship Benediction. The Captain had given them permission to use the auxiliary bridge as a command area, where Mk'Fedan was taking in everything that was happening. The Garrowan forces were connected to the Dramarian and Ramillien units on the planet, and to the assaulting Elysian units.
Militant General Faulin was still en route, so Mk'Fedan had taken command until his arrival, no other general staff disagreeing with the choice.
Staff officers dashed about, making changes to displays and carrying dataslates.
"How are the Rifles doing?" Macara heard Mk'Fedan ask Bukanan.
"The Cathedral and Warehouse are ours, now sir. None of the relief column has made it through yet, though."
"Of course they haven't! The Ramilliens won't send their damned armour any further until we control the bridges on both side," Mk'Fedan muttered.
"Can't you just order them?" the colonel asked.
"I have, Daine. But they maintain they are encountering sporadic enemy attacks that are slowing them down." Mk'Fedan shook his head wearily. "It's like pounding my head against a brick wall."
"They could help us to win the bridges," Macara growled. "We kept them standing, the armour can roll over and break through surely? Don't they know how important that landing field is?"
"I don't think they do, Daine, I don't think they do. Mike, what is the opposition at the cathedral like?"
"Light enough. But I don't want to send any of the attacking battalions back to the bridges, Bylin. We know how many cultists there are in the way, and without armour support…." The Light General let the worlds trail off.
Macara could just see, from his seat, the real-time holograph of the battle, how things were proceeding. Around the hive towers, patches of blue showed the barracks and all the factories held by the Imperials. Here and there, areas of red showed where cultists remained, trying ineffectually to break these areas of defence. Three long, thin blue lines showed the progression of the armoured columns through the city, one aimed straight at each of the bridges. The Western sectors of the city were a mix of red and background grey. Four miles towards the North West of Alpha Bridge, centrally located, was where the landing field was - with a circle of blue was fighting in towards the space port, as well as against those Chaos forces pressing in from behind.
And, most worrying to Macara and the generals, all along the length of the river, were heavy concentrations of red. Icons showed places where air-support had been called, and three more thin strips of blue represented the embattled bridgeheads. The situation for those men would be getting intolerable soon – low on water, food and most importantly ammo.
"We can't do much to help them until that field is taken, or the armour moves up." Bukanan spat. The grizzled man looked at Macara, who was still reeling from the odd dream. "Are you okay Macara? You're pale."
Macara couldn't answer for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. "I…I'm fine. Just a little worried about Frayzar's mob. They've been there for two days now."
"I know what you mean. I want to get down there." Bukanan replied, features set grimly. The older officer hadn't noticed the odd tone in Macara's weak response.
"Sir! General Demerche for you!" one of the vox men leaned round in his seat and called to Mk'Fedan. "There's been a development."
Mk'Fedan swore in Garrowan, the guttural noises causing bewildered looks from some of the navy men inside. "What now."
"Ammo running low, sir!" Sergeant Nerar shouted. He was now the most senior member of the Light Company left under Captain Mc'Teger. Lieutenant Bylar had taken a tank round to the midriff, dying with seven other men of the company.
"I'll send back to our side of the bridge for more." Mc'Teger replied.
It was now the second day of the mission, and their ammunition was perilously low. The cultists had attacked for nearly nineteen hours straight. Literally thousands had died in the attacks.
The previous day, Timadea and his Grenadiers had arrived to see the Light Company mowing down a swathe of Chaos soldiers. The big men, with bayonets fixed, had relieved the Light Soldiers and had charged the devastated mass, pushing them all the way across, scattering them despite their numbers. When Frayzar had arrived with the rest of the battalion, the Light and Grenadier companies were securing the opposite bridgehead. The colonel set up his heavy weapons and spread his troopers along the bank and across the bridge. With the regiment defending it, it was now a much harder challenge to break.
But the cultists were trying. They had attacked almost constantly over the course of the day. The 9th's Companies had rotated so none bore more of the fighting than the others, and now the Light Company, along with 7 Company, were holding the far side.
"Sir, we really need that ammo! Squads are down to their last mags!" the sergeant called again. Mc'Teger was grabbed his own vox-man, not the same man who had been in the role the day before, holding the mic. "The colonel, sir!"
"Colonel Frayzar, we could really use some more ammo up here," Mc'Teger said before Frayzar could say anything.
"Yes, I know. It's on its way captain. I've called in an air strike, so you may want to get small. Once it's been, I want you to go into them and push them back. Battalion will follow you through."
"Yes, sir, I'll pass the word" Mc'Teger grinned fiercely. He looked around him before yelling through his microbead.
"Get small! Air strike coming!"
The men at the bridgehead crouched behind their cover, still firing, until the whine of supersonic engines came overhead.
"Down!" Mc'Teger called.
"Strike wing, this is Wing Leader. Come in low and fast at angle three-three delta. Keep your fire on the opposite bank. Those Guard boys are strung along it, and we don't want to kill too many of them." The Wing Leader spoke, slightly muffled by his flight mask.
He received six affirmatives from his pilots as they pulled in for their attack run.
Seven Lightening strike fighters swooped down from the dirty clouds formed from two days of dropships and energy rounds bruising the atmosphere, to a height only about four hundred off the deck, lower even than some of the hab towers. Autocannons fired first, spraying deadly rounds across the waterfront. Then they fired their missiles, HE warheads shooting straight for the cultists. Huge chain explosions rippled through the far bank, throwing debris and bodies into the air. Flames leaped almost as high in the air as the fighters as the huge explosions tore up the faces of the habs for one hundred metres of waterfront. Burning figures dove into the water.
"Good job, wing. Head back to the ships for refuelling." The Wing Leader spoke when they had passed over the bridge. He looked at some runes scrawling along his data screen.
"Scrub that, gentlemen. Head for the landing field. Seems the Elysians have finally taken and secured it. That relief column is a bit of a waste of time. We refuel there." He said. Once again, he had unison replies from his pilots. The fighters veered off, leaving destruction and death in their wake, like avenging angels.
Mc'Teger watched the fighters fly overhead. Before him cultists died in droves. Only a few score remained on the bridge approach, other reeling and fleeing.
"Now, lads! Fix and deny! Take the bridge and drive them back!" Mc'Teger had his sword in hand. He was first over the barricades, followed by an angry host of Garrowans, all bellowing their fury in victory. He had reached and killed two cultists before his men caught up. They swarmed over those Chaos cultists not quick enough to escape, stabbing and cutting.
"Come on! Light Company! On! ON!" Mc'Teger shouted.
His men were pouring off the bridge onto the highway, followed by & Coy, when a lucky solid shot caught him between the shoulder and torso joint of his carapace. Mc'Teger felt himself falling, time slowing. Blood trickled onto the ground. The last thing he heard was Nerar calling for a medic before falling into darkness.
The men on the bridge tried to get some sleep that night. The cultists, obviously broken by their losses, had not attacked again. Frayzar had a full company on picket duty beyond the bridge. He was on the 'friendly' side, walking amongst the wounded. The butchers list stood at three hundred and seventeen dead, including those lost in the dropships, with four hundred and ninety-four wounded, one hundred and seventy of those seriously. Mc'Teger was amongst that number, his wound serious but not fatal. That was, if medics could get to him soon.
"Alright soldier?" Frayzar asked one leg-shot man from 6 Company.
"Not bad, sir. It's funny so it is, but my left leg has this big hole in it." The man replied jovially, despite the pain.
"Carry on Macnam." Frayzar said sadly, proud of the determination of his men. He glanced at the CP, seeing some dark figures talking to one of his majors. The colonel strode over and found colonel Macara in quiet conversation, a chimera idling nearby with Fusilier marking on it. One of the vox men in the process of calling Frayzar anyway, and put the mic down with a wan smile when he saw the colonel coming.
"Evening, sir." Frayzar saluted. Macara saluted back.
"Good job, Frayzar. What's the numbers."
"Well, I have about thirty-five hundred men in a fit state to fight, but they are exhausted and low on ammo. I have over eight hundred casualties, almost half of those fatal. Any news from the column?" Frayzar asked wearily.
"You'll have the 8th relieving you anytime inside of the hour. The 5th will be here inside of three. Your men will be using the 8th's Chimeras to get them to their billets at the main spine."
"We can march, sir." Frayzar replied fiercely.
"I know you can, Dylen, but I think you've earned the rest." Macara smiled slightly. Frayzar went to argue, then smiled himself.
"You're right. Thanks for arranging it."
"And idea on enemy losses?" Macara changed the subject.
"We estimate about four times our own, sir. They just kept running into the guns."
Macara sighed. "That's what I feared, that there were enough of them to be able to use such tactics. Thanks colonel. Oh, and Dylen,"
"Sir?"
"No sirs. I'm no Brigadier."
"No. Not yet." Frayzar grinned openly, throwing a salute.
The two men stood for a moment, the quiet of the night highlighting distant fighting as armoured units made their way from the landing fields to the places they needed to defend. Over that, they could hear the sound of numerous chimeras, rumbling in the distance.
"I think that's your lift. Get the men ready to move,"
"Atten – shun!" Lord General has entered the room!" General Mareven called. The assembled officers rose to their feet in respectful silence as Lord General Faulin walked in, flanked by immaculately dressed Kasrkin. With his back to Faulin, Mareven grimaced as his commander spoke. It seemed that his tenure aboard the Garrowan ship on their way to Ramillies had rubbed off on him.
"Gentlemen, I have called you all, regimental, brigade and divisional commanders, here, to talk about the next stop now we have landed the main army," he looked around the assembled officers, conveniently forgetting to mention who it was who had landed the army for him whilst he was en route.
The meeting was being held in the Governor's office in the main spine, a very large and opulent room where the hundred or so men were able to fit.
Since the Landing fields were taken and the Garrowan forces landed, the cultists had seemed to disappear. Even recon flights or orbital recon couldn't seem to find any movements.
The objectives were all taken, and the majority of the Eastern sector was now classed friendly. The West, where the majority of the factorums lay, was not, except for the two small enclaves at the Cathedral and landing field.
"Be seated," Mareven said. At the main table sat Faulin, Mareven and another Cadian general. With them sat a senior commissar and some Cadian command staff, with the Governor and the commander of the PDF beside Faulin.
The other generals and colonels sat in groups of their own kind. This polarisation was normal, as men wanted to be with their colleagues. However, it was possible to read more into it; Garrowans and Dramarians sat close by, many of their regiments having fought against the Tau in the S'karr campaign. The Elysians and Cadians were quite tightly packed, keeping their distance from the wild, grim hillmen from Garrowa. The PDF, eager to please and be on the right side of the Guard, sat around the Cadians too.
Cartel and his grizzled trench fighters from Dramar sat together, their wide brimmed steel helmets in their laps, many wearing strange dark blue forage caps, with black silk ribbons at the back and red, white and black dicing along the headband. Demerche was with his jump troopers, a long scar going from top of his face to bottom, over the left eye. Both looked like men who didn't shirk frontline over their careers.
Misade and his Thorans, all olive-skinned, dark haired warriors, were in a group of their own, showing no allegiances except to their Emperor.
"So far, the plan has worked almost to the letter," Faulin spoke again. There was a slight murmur in the crowd. Macara noticed where sounds of distance came from, and noticed those nodding their agreement.
"We have suffered light casualties and killed thousands of the enemy. Our army group is formed up around the Main spine and barracks, with units holding the Space Port and Cathedral. We shall move out from the main spine and drive them before us." Faulin stated. Macara noticed Mk'Fedan's face flush with anger slightly, his teeth gritted, hands clenched. Misade shook his head and looked away. Cartel, to Macara's surprise, nodded.
Towards the back of the room, there were some dark chuckles. The black and green uniformed men of the Thracian 34th and 133rd Armoured 'Pack Wolves' sat there. These men were unexpected arrivals, come to the planet when their transport ship received the summons to all nearby units; being only a week's transit away, they had come eagerly. Their highest ranker present was Colonel Fletchland.
"What is so funny?" Faulins Chief of Staff asked acidly. General Tollin was man very similar to the Garrowans' Tern; Macara wondered if the Schola Progenium made all its officers and commissars so arrogant and similar in attitude.
"We have to secure the factories. We don't need to 'drive the enemy from the city' at this early stage." Fletchland sighed.
General Bukanan used this chance to speak up. "We also still have units in the field. They are holding objectives and could probably do with reinforcements around about now"
"Well, General, his lordship has decided," Tollin muttered. "That we should punish the enemies of His divine majesty and throw them from Tenba city."
The Cadians and Elysian nodded and clapped, the PDF copying this reaction. Some of the Dramarians seemed to join this opinion. The Garrowans sat silently, letting their thoughts show in their glares. The Thorans, a reasonably unknown element to Macara, also appeared less than pleased with this decision.
Before anyone could speak again, a head popped in the door.
"I thought I said no interruptions!" Tollin bellowed. The Guard blanched
"Eh...sir, I have someon..."
"Out with it!"
Three figures in jungle green fatigues and mismatched armour pushed past the guard into the room. They had big builds, and had healthy, tropical complexions; one of the men was almost completely black, looking for all the world like one of the Salamander Astartes, and the majority of guard issue chest and shoulder armour, except where bits had been damaged and less-than-skilfully repaired. Macara grinned at these soldiers and their fighting appearance. One had the rank slides of Senior Colonel, the Verdanus equivalent to General, with two subordinates.
"You are late, Colonel Dreksson." Faulin said rather arrogantly. "This meeting was scheduled an hour ago,"
But only started fifteen minutes ago because you yourself were late. Macara thought.
Dreksson gave a small sneer in return. "I was out patrolling for these cultists who have gone to ground. Our 'Nychus should be able to find them anywhere."
Faulin looked down his nose distastefully. "Those would be your…mounts, I assume?"
"Our Velocinychus, yes. We haven't found them yet, but we will. They're good at identifying scum." The Senior Colonel said, sitting with his two juniors.
There was a chuckled in the room, coming from the Garrowans and the Thorans again. Somewhere a Thracian clapped.
"Well, now that that is sorted, back to the matter at hand.
"Sir, I am referring to your plans for troop movements when I ask this. I thought our mission was to take and defend the factories to help in the war effort in this sector. Especially with Medusa V under attack." A Thoran Colonel spoke out.
"Do not fear, Colonel Becyver, we will still restart production in the factories. However, we can move on with the main force and sweep the enemy out of the area completely. It is all they deserve, of course." Faulin stated plainly. Some of his Cadians clapped at the comment sycophantically, followed by most of the Ramilliens and some Elysians. Macara realised the meeting had definitely degenerated into factions. On the Garrowans' part, it all stemmed from losing the men of the Terurn Guard due to Faulin. Mk'Fedan, however, wasn't far from Faulin in rank, being Mc'Alastor's own second in command, and held a lot of sway in any debate.
The colonel of the 5th, however, did notice that general Mareven and the officers of the 23rd and 104th didn't seem to be completely in Faulin's 'camp'. They sat more centrally, not ostracising their own comrades, but not alienating the other Guard present. They had never served under Faulin before, and unlike the other Cadians, were not part of his division regularly, so Macara concluded they were less biased in their opinions.
"That idea sounds very ideal, Lord General. I look forward to hearing the details. The enemies of mankind should not be allowed to roam His cities freely, and we should be the ones to throw them out of it." General Demerche commented. This time, more Elysian, and most Ramillien and Cadians, clapped and cheered.
Oh throne; this is turning into a battle of ass kissing, isn't it. Macara sighed.
Also, amongst the other regiments, it seemed a division was forming. The Verdani had sat beside the Thorans immediately, and it seemed that they were thinking along the same lines as the Garrowans. The Dramarians hadn't cast their vote, but Macara was sure they would side with the Ramilliens and Cadians; after all, the warriors of Dramar had been fighting for two months already. They would want payback for lost comrades.
The Elysians were a famed force in the Imperium, so were the Cadians and he could see the two coming together to form the basis of the Imperial Army group. No matter what anyone else thought.
The Thracians, it seemed, had obvious sidings.
"Can you believe this shit?" Cairns leaned over and muttered. As the acting CO of the 5th, he was allowed to this meeting, and was one of six majors present, everyone else holding higher rank.
"Not really. Give him a minute, we'll see what the plan is," Macara whispered back.
"If you will settle down, General Tollin will show you what I mean."
"Private, the projector," Tollin snapped at a young trooper, who flicked the device on. It showed a 3D representation of the city, much like the holo-projector aboard the Benediction. Tollin gestured with a laser pointer.
"Here, we have our forces at their current locations," he identified the large blue area that represented the friendly forces around the Main Spine. "We have secured these factories, and trained workers are already getting them back to operation standards. We will secure the others so they too can be put into use. This involves contact with the enemy. In order to clear them from the city, we will deploy as such," two long blue lines formed, north to south, and began moving across the map, sweeping theoretical red blocks before them. The lead line angled north, the rear south, until they had made a formation stretching three quarters of the width of the city, securing each of the factorums as we reach it. This tactic is twofold, driving the enemy out and restarting productivity. We will literally sweep the enemy from the city one hab-block at a time." He finished. More blasted clapping followed. Most of the officers from what could be called the 'Mk'Fedan Faction' just looked on, appalled.
"Is this a joke?" Colonel Mk'Greyger spoke up.
"No. I don't see why it should be." Tollin spat.
"We don't have the man power to defend the Main Spine, the Barracks, Landing fields and the bridges, never mind the factorum and still drive the enemy back. If we had more men, we could try it, yes. Try, like, a million."
"I believe, lieutenant colonel, that this is the best option open to us. We need to strike a defining blow now, before the enemy can consolidate."
"It's a bloody stupid idea," General Misade stated. Macara noticed even Cartel not looking so confident in the General's choice of tactics.
"That is enough, general." Tollin warned.
"No, I want to know why the general thinks this." Faulin asked, face turning red.
"For the reasons already pointed out. The size of the city. The fact there is at least a million cultists in the city. The fact they have fully operation MBTs, even Leman Russ pattern. How can we launch an attack against those forces and hold ground?"
"We are the Hammer of the Emperor. These treacherous scum are not trained or well equipped. Our training will see us march over them." Faulin said with resentment on his face.
There was an uproar then, as officers threw insults and yelled at each other.
"Calm down! Calm!" Tollin tried. Faulin also tried to calm things.
"BE QUIET!" Bukanan's huge voice bellowed. That worked.
"Settle down, please, gentlemen! You are officers!" Mk'Fedan growled.
"Thank you, general…" Faulin began.
"Sir, my forces cannot support an attack like this without first suggesting alternate strategy." Mk'Fedan said firmly. The look on his face brooked no argument, even from Faulin. Rage flashed behind the Lord General pale eyes, but he knew he couldn't win this argument. He had a different way.
"I see opinions and tempers are high. I shall, seeing as this is a tactical discussion, allow for a vote on the plan. We shall go with those tactics best for the task, and we shall agree on them together. Will you abide by your comrades choice?" Faulin said impishly. Macara groaned, guessing what would happen. Mk'Fedan nodded, a suspicious look in his eyes.
Macara did some quick arithmetic. There were eighty eight officers present amidst the meeting, the commissars at the back of the room there more as a matter of regulation. Forty six alone were Cadian or Ramillien, which meant that this vote was almost an automatic win for the Cadian general.
"All those who disagree with the current strategy, please make yourselves known." Tollin muttered.
Fourteen Garrowan hands went up almost straight away, with some groans from the Cadian staff. The Thorans raised their own. That made twenty two.
The Verdanus colonel, Dreksson, and his officers gave curt "Hear hears", and the Senior-colonel nodded to Mk'Fedan.
Twenty five.
The Thracians also lent their weight to the argument on Mk'Fedan's side. Even more surprisingly, two Elysians, a Ramillien and three Cadians also voted with the Garrowans.
Thirty five.
Macara counted quickly – fifty one Cadian, Elysian and Ramillien votes remained. With the Dramarian vote, they would have it!
Three Dramarian hands rose. No more.
"I think that gives us the result," Faulin said with a self-satisfied grin. "Now we have established what tactics we shall use, I suggest we think about going to our duties.
Tollin leaned in and whispered something, at length, to Faulin. The Lord General nodded a couple of times, made a noise in his throat that may have been agreement, then straightened up.
"General Tollin has brought a point to me. There is obviously some bad blood, possibly some animosity brewing amidst us. For the duration of this campaign, I am reforming the brigades of the Liberation force. This is normal practise, allowing men to fight together and alongside other regiments and form bonds of comradeship," Faulin said whilst scribbling on a data slate Tollin and also handed him.
There were some murmurs; the Garrowan were not happy, but all the units knew that serving in the Guard meant serving in the brigades or divisions you were told to. It was rare to see a division without units from another world.
But it was when they saw the new brigades pop up on their own data slates as Faulin hit send, that things truly drew ire. Three brigades were made entirely of Cadians, with their original commanders. The next few were Cadian and Ramillien mixes.
"You must be joking me! I will not lose the command of my brigade and then have the men scattered amongst commanders who have no idea about their combat strengths!" Bukanan bellowed, standing. Two of the Commissars at the back of the room let hands wander to holsters.
"If you do not silence yourself at once, you will not have a brigade to command at all." Faulin raged back, finally tired of his decisions being questioned.
Bukanan sat heavily. Murmurs ran through the assembled officer.
"The general does not wish to usurp any senior officers, so they will still retain brigade command, the only difference being the men under their command." Tollin said. "This is the Lord Generals last words on the matter. Any objections can be issued in writing."
Mk'Fedan stood. "I will go and prepare my men now, sir." The Garrowan general said tersely.
"Very well," Faulin gestured at the door with his hand. The other Garrowans also stood, their faces a mix of anger and disgust. The other units who had backed them did too, amidst a flurry of catcalls.
Along the corridor, well away from the Governor's office, Mk'Fedan pulled Bukanan and Macara over to a balcony overlooking the Spine. Misade and Dreksson also joined them, their faces set firm. Fletchland stood to one side with his officers, close enough to listen, not close enough to seem interested.
"Now listen well. I hate the fact that there already seems to be a division amongst our forces. We are on the same fecking side, yet we seem to fighting one another. I don't, however, want to be a scapegoat for any mishaps, so we follow orders to the letter. As soon as men started dying needlessly, then we act. Can I assume I have all your support?"
Misade and Dreksson nodded, and Colonel Fletchland even voiced am affirmative from his side of the corridor.
"Good. Now, see to your men, brief them, then come to my headquarters. 0600 standard. I'm on the seventy-sixth level. So, for the moment, good night, gentlemen." Mk'Fedan finished, striding off. Officers broke into little groups and headed to their own quarters.
"Colonel, can I speak with you?" the Thoran colonel Becyver called to Macara, walking over.
"Certainly, colonel."
"I thought it would be best if I introduced myself, as my battalion will be in your brigade, it seems. I am Kerrin Becyver." He held out his hand. Macara took it warmly.
"Daine Macara. Good to meet you."
"I've never served alongside Garrowans, though some of ours were on Ichar IV with you. General Misade was one of them, and has only praise for you." Kerrin smiled.
"Thank you. The 17th was the unit on Ichar IV, yes?" Macara asked in return.
"Yes, they were. Good men all. They were finally allowed home recently. First time in two decades." Becyver admitted.
"I always forget it is not normal Guard procedure to go home after every campaign." Macara smiled wanly. Major Cairns appeared beside him, and the colonel made the necessary introductions.
"I suggested we retire to the mess, have a proper conversation." Macara muttered lowly. The other two men nodded, and they left to find a lift.
