Disclaimer- Threw this up in chapter one, but figure having it be more current will help cover my ass on the off chance eh? Anyway, I do not own Warhammer 40k or any of the works therin and I do not make any profit off of this other than the feels gotten by reading those lovely reviews I get every so often.
Amidst the mist and coldest frosts, with barest wrists and stoutest boasts. He thrusts his fists against the posts. And still insists he see's the ghosts."- English tongue twister
Jericus POV.
The bridge looked like a maelstrom of lasbolts, hard-rounds, explosions, and debris, Jericus could scarcely believe the sight. It seemed so far from his first time in such an active battle, but his gut still clenched, and despite all of his training his animal instinct for self-preservation begged for him to flee. However, that same training kept him firmly on course as he along with the rest of his squad advanced toward the bridge.
To call such a thing a bridge was to be modest however, on Surris cities were rarely built upwards, and the relatively flat plains negated the need for bridges in most areas. So to him this structure in front of him was nothing short of gargantuan, it was practically a city unto itself. The question formed in his mind as soon as he saw the monolithic mass… how the keck where they bringing this thing down?
His squad, made up of a mix of Death Korps grenadiers and Hoarfell recon troopers came upon what looked to be the commander of the operation taking place. Jericus could make out the distinct uniform of a Randon drop-trooper, the bright crimson red practically daring any enemy sniper to end the life of the woman who wore it. Said woman was currently speaking into a long range vox transmitter, furiously relaying orders while being fed information about the battle taking place.
"Listen to me you little snetch, I don't care if the Emperor himself comes parading past you in his underwear you will focus on your objective and hold that line!" She stated explosively cutting off the connection afterwards. Watchmaster B-63 cleared his throat loudly to catch the woman's attention, the Randon turning quickly, reflective faceplate up. The weariness in her face was as obvious as the determination as she gestured at the joint group almost dismissively.
"Great, more skull-faces and spooks, just what I need," she said with exasperation.
Watchmaster B-63 seemed to pretend not to notice her more than lackluster statement and got right to the point. "We're here by request to make ourselves useful Ma'am, Watchmaster B-63 reporting for duty."
"Commander Thresa Goss, and all commentary aside I'm glad to have you all, we desperately need this bridge to go down, and from what I've been hearing that won't be happening unless we get as many bodies on the line as possible to stop those traitors from steamrolling over it," Commander Goss said pointedly.
"If you don't mind I'd like to know the situation before my troopers and I go and fulfill our duty to the Emperor, Commander," B-63 said professionally.
"Well I'm afraid I'm a bit dark on the entirety myself Watchmaster, vox has been giving us trouble with all the interference, but the good news is at the moment a good amount of your boys and girls are holding the line, not for too much longer I think but let's try and stay optimistic. Anyway, you all need to buy me at least another ten minutes."
"How do you plan on taking down the bridge in ten minutes?"
"Melta-bombs on the support struts, a metric-shit-ton of 'em, you see me and my boys were dropped here to take care of the bridge hours ago, command figured three platoons of Randon could hit the bridge hard enough and quickly enough to get the job done before the enemy would know what to do. Too bad the snetches are quick on the response, once we realized this was gonna be a prolonged fight I called in for reinforcements. Right now my sappers are setting the bombs, but to do that they have to get to the struts… which are under the bridge." Goss let the statement hang in the air for B-63 for a moment.
"Meaning the use of grav-chutes to plant the bombs," he responded promptly.
"Exactly, which is very difficult to do, lucky for us Randon sappers are trained for this sort of thing, unlucky for us that traitors tend to take pot-shots at them if they're not occupied with ducking from return fire. Meaning you and your trooper's better get to the line Watchmaster, and I mean now, once the bombs are set you'll get the warning over vox… hopefully. I know you skull-faces aren't keen on running, but I suggest you get off that bridge once you get the call."
"Understood Commander where on the line do you need us?"
"Eastern side of the bridge, the actual side of the bridge mind you by the railing, last I heard they were having trouble, now you really should be moving." The commander turned away abruptly to begin yelling into the vox yet again, leaving the squad to get on with their orders.
Heading toward the epicenter of the fighting was like running through a keck, Jericus just substituted the razor-sharp ice with lasbolts, hardrounds, and shrapnel. The squad's destination came into view quickly enough, a ragged line made up of the burnt out husks of autocars, sandbags, and just about anything else the guardsmen could throw between them and enemy fire.
Friendly forces were a healthy mix of Death Korps, and Hoarfell with a sprinkle of Randon thrown in like seasoning. There were no orders given by B-63, everyone took up position as it became available and melded into the line already composed by their comrades. Rebels and PDF were only being held back by the combined fire, but the real work was being done by two heavy stubbers manned by the few Randon on the line.
All the same the enemy seemed to be whipped into a fanatic frenzy, they knew that if the Imperials succeeded in destroying the bridge that the fight for the southern sector would be all but lost. Jericus took carefully aimed shots at individuals who were literally throwing themselves at the line of deadly weapons-fire. So intense was the guardsmen's fire output that enemy troopers were literally being blown apart. Jericus noted with satisfaction as an enemy's head seemed to explode like an overripe melon, clearly a hotshot round shot by Fenria.
The only reason he could tell in the mess of bright flashes that it had been her was because she was both next to him and because throughout training they had been partners during weapon-drills. He'd know that precision instinctively anywhere. Unfortunately that precision wasn't helping much to stem the tide of bodies coming at the line, rebels in their makeshift uniforms threw themselves into the torrent of Imperial fire, meanwhile the PDF moved up utilizing covering fire as best they could between autocabs and sandbags.
In short the enemy was going to overrun their position, it was only a matter of time, and this was punctuated by a rebel quite literally throwing himself at Jericus as he was reloading. The man came flying over the makeshift barricade, some kind of handmade long-blade in hand; Jericus brought his lasgun forward driving the bayonet into the rebels gut and then upward into his chest. Still the rebel had some life left in him despite being skewered and swung his blade at Jericus' head, luckily it was just a glancing blow on his helmet and knocked him to the side rather than decapitate him, or slice his throat.
Stunned Jericus fell to the side the rebel's weight pushing him down, still flailing the rebel was trying to get a killing blow in screaming all the while in both pain and rage. Jericus let go of his lasgun to catch the rebel's blade hand to hold it at bay while his other reached for the trench-axe at his belt. Choking up all the way on the axe he pulled it free thrusting the mono-edged axe-head up into the rebel's throat, supremely sharp metal easily cleaved through flesh and spinal cord.
Finally he wrenched to the side pulling the axe free and letting the severed head fall from the rebel's shoulders, hitting him in the face and drenching him in arterial spray. Quickly wiping the lens of his mask Jericus pushed the body off of him and got to his feet to find that the line was now really in trouble. The traitorous forces sheer numbers starting to overwhelm the line, the rebel that had careened into him was the first of many, Jericus' comrades having not come to his aid simply because they had to focus on their own attackers.
He searched frantically for Fenria, but every Korpsman looked alike, especially in the close fighting, so it was next to impossible for him to find her. Whilst looking around he saw most every guardsman along the line fighting in pitched close quarter combat, desperately trying to beat back the enemy. As he scanned each scene of individual carnage he was vaguely aware of a few familiar faces, mostly Hoarfell troopers from his squad. The field medic Harding smashing a rebel's teeth in with his lasgun's stock, Spores sticking a PDF trooper over and over again through the sternum, and Wilhelm being thrown off the side of the bridge by a particularly burly PDF trooper.
In fact it was Wilhelm's scream that snapped Jericus out of his trance of searching saving him as he noticed the sight of another rebel charging him, this one with an autogun with its bayonet mounted. Jericus choked down on his axe to get a properly long reach and prepared for the oncoming attack, he parried the thrust as he was trained to throwing the momentum of it to the side as well as the deadly blade.
However, the rebel threw out an elbow connecting with the side of Jericus' head which clanked off of his helmet jarring him slightly. Jericus retaliated by stomping on the rebels knee, a sickening crack resounding as it bent at an unnatural angle, the rebel fell to his knees as he lost support of the leg. Recovering from the earlier blow Jericus swung his axe horizontally cleaving through the rebel's neck an arc of crimson trailing after the axe head. Kicking the dying man in his chest Jericus cleared the way for his next attacker, a PDF trooper coming at him with a saber, surely an officer of some kind.
Fast as he could Jericus drew his combat knife in his opposite hand from the axe, the PDF officer opened with a thrust at his chest. Using his axe Jericus hooked the oncoming thrust keeping the mono-edged metal away from his body; however the man was skilled deftly redirecting his blade for a reverse cut. Jericus jumped back, the blade grazing his chestplate leaving a fairly deep horizontal cut across the sturdy carapace armour. Not letting up on his advantage the officer thrust yet again closing the distance between them, in response Jericus sidestepped the attack and chopped downward with his axe at the mans overextended wrist.
Mono-edge met cloth, flesh, and bone severing hand from arm all the while the PDF officer screamed through gritted teeth, leaving no time for him to react Jericus thrust his knife forward into the mans chest, and then swung the trench-axe upward burying the spiked end up through the bottom jaw and into the officer's cranium the crack, squelch of the action bringing an end to the fight. Withdrawing his weapons from the body Jericus turned his attention back to the world at large again, the heavy stubbers had been overrun, and now the line was collapsing.
He saw as comrades from all regiments began to fall back, and a fellow Korpsman approaching him, he noticed the longlas she held, Fenria.
"S-1049, we're falling back! Come on we need to provide covering fire for the others." She yelled out over the din of combat. Jericus immediately knew what she was talking about, standard practice when giving ground in the Korps, you never just turned your back and fled if it could be helped. You fell back in groups, one facing the enemy to provide cover fire while the other ran back to cover, and then those who ran would turn and provide covering fire for their comrades to get even further, alternating so that the enemy was always being fired upon to slow their advance.
They did this because once you turn your back, once the enemy sees you running they see easy prey, and all hesitation to kill you goes out the window. Jericus nodded his understanding as she and another two troopers stopped beside him, these two both Hoarfell Spores, and Harding to be exact. Sheathing his combat knife and axe Jericus scrambled forward and retrieved his lasgun, still embedded into the rebel that had tackled him.
Finally switching the spent powerpack he began to add his own fire to the others covering the retreat of his comrades who ran past them and further back toward more distant cover. From what he could see there was still a good number of guardsmen left, but the line seemed broken and the rebels and PDF advanced mercilessly. Jericus scored two more kills in that time peppering one PDF'er with three shots to the chest and a rebel with one clean headshot.
"Set! Go! We hold at the new position." The words were yelled through the vox and the air. The code to let them know to fall back because their comrades were set up to cover their retreat, and like that as one the groups providing covering fire turned and crouch ran toward their comrades who had now set up another defensive line situated at a narrower part of the bridge, chunks of debris blocking off a portion of the open space forming a choke point. Jericus and the others rejoined the rest forming up along the new defensive line and turned back toward the enemy advance.
They lacked the suppressive fire of the heavy stubbers, but the bottleneck created by the debris allowed the small arms they had left to be almost as effective at holding back the tide of enemy troopers. Jericus felt his stomach twisting as he saw the enemy advance, the rebels, and PDF troopers were in even more of a frenzy, and their chaotic charge border-lined on fanaticism more than actual tactical necessity.
So numerous and packed together were the enemy forces that the guardsmen simply couldn't miss, it was a literal wall of bodies coming toward them. The line seemed in danger of being overrun again when a staccato of explosions rippled through the upper reaches of the bridge sending chunks of masonry and other debris falling down a scant five meters in-front of the line.
The front of the enemy advanced was crushed and buried by the debris and the overall advance halted for the moment giving the guardsmen time to catch their collective breaths.
"What the keck was that?" Jericus asked voice shaky from the high of adrenaline and battle.
"Little present we had setup in case this happened," replied a nearby Randon trooper, Jericus nodded in understanding.
"Yeah well don't get comfortable troopers it won't hold them for long," Watchmaster B-63 supplied.
"Don't worry skull-face it won't have to, orders've come through, they're blowing this hunk-a-schlock to hell soon. That means we've gotta vacate the premises boys and girls," a nearby Hoarfell sergeant yelled back having just gotten off the long-range vox-unit operated by one of his men.
"Well then best not wait around here for that, fall back troopers," the Randon from before shouted, and then began the guardsmen's retreat to the safe-end of the colossal bridge. Caught up in the crowd Jericus did his best to keep an eye out for Fenria, locating her only by the longlas she held, the guardsmen kept up the covering retreat they had earlier incase the enemy managed to scale the wall of debris blocking the path. Lucky for them that proved to be unnecessary as they finally made it to the end of the bridge and the ad-hoc command station setup by the Randon platoons earlier that day.
"Easternmost side clear Commander," the Randon sergeant from before stated into his vox-bead the reply was static-filled, but understandable.
"Excellent news sergeant! Alright boys blow it,"
A familiar hissing could be heard under the cacophony of weapons fire as the dozens of melta-bombs began to go off, the low hiss was abruptly followed by a roaring blast. Support struts reduced to slag, or otherwise severely damaged the bridge's superstructure began to groan like a wounded leviathan as the titanic structure collapsed taking hundreds of rebel and PDF troopers with it into the urban canyon below it.
Most of the guardsmen let out a cheer to celebrate their hard-won and tide-turning victory over the enemy, Commander Goss visibly sagged as a sigh of relief wracked her body, long hours of fighting having finally come to an end in the best way possible, and then the commander straightened up. "Alright guardsmen enough celebration, we've still got a war to win and that means we need to head north and finally re-connect with the main offensive force. Word has come down from on high; we're taking the main spire and putting an end to this little uprising. Cheers come after," Goss bellowed over the cheers.
The guardsmen went quiet as murmurs began to pass through the ranks at the mention of the new objective. Jericus, standing next to Fenria as he often was, steeled himself for this final obstacle, so focused he hadn't noticed the Randon trooper walk up behind him, slapping him on the back in a friendly manner the Randon chuckled.
"Thinking about switching regiments blank?" The man stated with mirth before continuing to walk past him. Jericus looked at him quizzically for a moment before Fenria nudged him to get his attention.
"There's red on you," she stated matter-of-factly.
It was then Jericus looked down to notice that he was covered in blood, and then he remembered it was from his hasty decapitation earlier. Jericus then sighed wearily as he realized that the blood would be hell to get out of his uniform, the quartermasters were going to have a fit over this.
"Cheer up there S-1049, we have a long march ahead of us to get to the main spire, I'm sure you can get that cleaned off before the final battle," B-80 replied overeagerly.
"March," Jericus stated indifferently, B-80 simply took the bland statement for a question.
"Yeah, command won't waste transport on us, 'specially since we're relatively close to the objective, orders are to link up with our main forces and storm the 'dark tower' so to speak, you gotta pay attention S-1049, we can't give the other regiments more reasons to call us blanks." B-80 supplied stating the last part jokingly, "and that means fall into line trooper."
Jericus then noticed the now swift procession of troopers around their little group, the rest of his squad having formed up around him, Fenria, and B-80. Taking the cue he formed up as well, spaced out the large procession of guardsmen presented a harder target for any would-be attackers and they all began to march toward their objective.
Not far down the marching procession Raltia Lupa marched with her own squad, having gotten to the bridge one hour prior they had been on the line for some time fending off the rebel forces. The Arbites they had encountered stayed with them in order to lend their assistance for the battle.
Raltia was very tired the time since the twisted grox had been shot out of the air nothing short of exhausting and there was still more ahead. In contrast her squad-mates all seemed very enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, Randon blood got excited in a fight it seemed. She listened as hundreds of feet clattered against rockcrete creating a somewhat disjointed beat, and then she noticed something rising up above that sound.
Rata-ta-ta-tat, rata-ta-ta-tat, rata-ta-ta-tat, it was steady and constant and getting louder and more insistant as the seconds passed.
"What's that sound," She questioned aloud to herself, some sort of instrument to be sure but it sounded foreign compared to any she'd known on Surris.
"That'd be them Hoarfell spooks, they like to march to the beat, keep themselves in step," Barach supplied from her right.
"Yeah, have to admit though it's a catchy tune," Anrai put in.
"Yes it is trooper, what say we give 'em all a catchy tune of our own?" Sergeant Joss said a smile in her voice, "Ground pounder version of course, corporal if you would be so kind."
"Gladly Ma'am," Barach cleared his throat and then,"Sound off!"
"One, two," was called from further up the line.
"Sound off!" Barach said again his voice taking on a gleeful tone.
"Three, four!" was called back with more energy.
Then starting low and beginning to gain volume a Randon trooper began to sing.
"He was just a rookie trooper and he surely shook with fright, he checked all his equipment and made sure his pack was tight; he had to sit and listen to those awful bolters roar,"
"You ain't gonna fight no more!" Was chorused back and then the Randon began in earnest.
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
The Hoarfell drummer from before changed his beat to something that would go along better with the cheerful and upbeat voices of the Randon as they began to really pick up.
"'Is everybody happy?' cried the Commissar looking up,
Our Hero feebly answered 'Yes,' and then they stood him up;
He jumped over the trench, his lasgun pointing up," trooper Ness sung.
He ain't gonna fight no more!
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
The rest of the guardsmen around them joined in on the chorus, even the usually stoic death korps, and the combined voices seemed to vibrate the ground more than their boot-falls.
"He counted long, he counted loud, he waited for the shock, he felt the mud, he felt the cold, he felt the awful pop, the mud flew up, and splashed into his eyes, as the auto-cannon roared," This time a Hoarfell trooper sung loud above the beating drum.
He ain't gonna fight no more!
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
"The carapace concaved around his neck, and shrapnel cracked his dome, his webbing tied in knots around his skinny bones; the mud became his shroud; he fell right to the ground," Multiple troopers at once sang together.
He ain't gonna fight no more!
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
The days he'd lived and loved and laughed kept running through his mind,
He thought about the girl back home, the one he'd left behind;
He thought about the medicae, and wondered what they'd find,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
The stretcher team was on the spot, the chimera were running wild,
The medics jumped and screamed with glee, they rolled up their sleeves and smiled,
For it had been a week or more since last a trooper fell,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
The round had hit, the sound was "BOOM!", his blood went spurting high;
His comrades, then were heard to say "A hell of a way to die!"
He lay there, rolling 'round in the welter of his gore,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
The chorus of guardsmen slowed for the final verse, solemn in the rendition.
There was blood upon his tunic, there were brains upon the ground,
Intestines were a-dangling from his carapace-armour down,
He was a mess, they picked him up, and poured him from his boots,
He ain't gonna fight no more.
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
Gory, gory, what a hell of a way to die,
He ain't gonna fight no more!
As they finished the marching song Raltia noticed that now everyone in the procession marched in step, the song had livened up their spirits and given them all unity. Raltia then realized that for all the fighting, insults, and general bickering among the three regiments that they were all guardsmen, and they were all together in this.
A/N: Singing bit may have been a tad much, but perhaps it will dredge up a few more reviews eh? So it's begging you want huh... I'm not really into the whole begging thing, nothing wrong with it, but what's left of my dignity would never forgive me. Kindly review dear readers, see you next week... maybe, the price of one review from a new source is required for the next chapter, there are at least 60-75 of you following consistently, and I believe in you. I probably won't hold the story hostage like that, seems petty really, but I might consider such depraved action.
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