Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 188
"The vox-net is collapsing, squads are falling back but risk being cut off!" Lujan snapped.
"We need them here, five bloody minutes ago!" Ajax spat.
"We need to hold an evacuation corridor open. This room must not fall."
"It's Frakking impossible to defend!"
Charael answered that, "The defence will hold, have faith."
Ajax bit down on a variety of curses, this was not the time to get dragged into another debate. The Throneroom was being hastily converted into a killing zone, with Guardsmen setting up Heavy Bolters in a broad arc, as others threw sandbags into piles for rough cover. The picturesque garden that had surrounded the throne had already been torn up, trees levelled to create clear fire arcs and minefields set across the winding pathways. One route remained clear, down which incoming survivors were being directed. They were shown to the far door, where the last remaining escape tunnel awaited. Battered and bleeding mortals, there was no point trying to add them to the defence, they were broken, their courage would need time to recover, and time was something they did not have.
"Thirty-six hours I projected this Palace would stand, and it falls in less than five," Lujan scorned.
"We bled them," Charael consoled, "The Orks paid a steep price."
"Not steep enough," Aja growled.
"Every slain Xenos counts, attrition is our watchword, we must reduce their numbers."
"Plans have a way of falling apart when you least expect it."
Lujan shook off his malaise, "We will hold this room for as long as we can, then withdraw and blow the tunnel entrance. Let the Orks have the Palace, there's nothing here worth keeping."
"Tell that mewling fop Rodziel that!" Ajax snapped.
The Governor had yet to evacuate, his entourage performing some elaborate ritual. They claimed they could not move the crown without sacred rites being observed, and the coterie of priests had had a fit when Ajax had told them to skip to the good bits. Idiots, Ajax judged, if these people weren't out of here in five minutes they'd be dead. Speaking of morons the Smoke Jaguars were moving to cover the left flank, their skulking presence an unwelcome distraction. Ajax had seen them in battle and found them lacking, even that Dreadnought was subpar. The Sergeant trusted the Storm Heralds to give a better showing, standing over the defenders on the centre and the right flank. Six squads, enough to topple cities, but he doubted it would be enough to hold this room.
A blur of blue at the door was Sergeant Juyin's squad backing into the room, bolters firing down the corridor as he yelled, "They're right behind us!"
"Where's Sergeants Debarr and Levian?" Lujan barked.
"Not coming!" Juyin shouted as his squad slammed the doors shut and ran for the line, grabbing fresh bolter magazines from waiting crates.
"Frak!" Ajax swore, "Right you lot, time's up!"
Governor Rodziel looked offended as he disputed, "The scared rituals…"
"Won't mean crap if you don't get out of here now!"
Too late, far too late. The far doors exploded as Orks smashed through. They came raging and frothing for violence, beady eyes seeking the nearest body to kill. They were met by a solid wall of fire, lasrifles, bolters, autocannons and Heavy Bolters decimating the first rank. Green bodies toppled in droves, lives reaped as thoroughly as a threshing machine moving through a wheatfield. The thunder of guns filled the throneroom with the sound of planets smashing together, the barking of muzzles deafening and their flashes blinding. Nothing could face that onslaught and survive, to press into the face of it would be insanity and yet the Orks came regardless.
Ajax gripped his Eviscerator tight as he saw Greenskins broiling from the doorway, pushing into the solid wall of firepower. Bodies began to pile high, and in doing so created a macabre cover, Orks using their dead brethren as shields. Ten metres into the room and three hundred of them had died, and still they came. Orks pushed over the top of the dead only to be culled instantly, adding their mass to the barricade. Five hundred, six, eight, a thousand Xenos in barely a few minutes, all for the sake of ten metres of ground. Fifteen hundred, and still they came.
"We're holding them!" Iagion exclaimed.
"No, we're not," Ajax growled, "They're just building momentum."
"But we're slaughtering them!"
"And they're still coming, any second now they'll…"
"They'll do what?"
"That!" Ajax snarled.
The piled dead had grown so high they began to slip over each other, tumbling down the front of the mound. Bodies flopped into shallow streams and over waiting grass, and set off the mines buried there. Explosions rippled along the breadth of the room, popping loudly in the din, showering the Orks in mud and dirt, but failing to kill any of the living ones. What it did make was a cloud of gravel in the air, obscuring sight and making it hard for the mortals to see what they were shooting. Two thousand Orks dead, but they had their screen.
"Waaaagh!" the cry arose as Orks came charging out of the haze. Gunners swept madly to and fro, culling many, but the Xenos were upon them before the shooting could stay their charge and then the screaming began. Choppas cleaved bodies, rude pistols shot men in faces and bulked muscle tore flesh from bones. In an instant the front line was beset, bayonet against cleavers, and the mortals could not hope to hold, but the Astartes were already killing.
The Storm Heralds piled in, lending their strength to the defence. Silver combat knives drew blood and chainswords rent Ork flesh. Lujan led his Honour Guard into the midst of the fray, his relic blade demolishing all within reach. He made a dam against the incoming tide and held fast, refusing to be moved. Charael led the right flank, his Crozius' booms echoing loud with every strike. Orks raced to meet him but he held Storm-Heart aloft and unleashed the stutter-field effect, a blinding strobing corona that left the foe dazed and confused.
Ajax paid no mind to it, already in the thick of the fight. He met Orks with broad sweeps of Storm's Wrath, using its weight and momentum to sunder any who came at him. An Ork with a gnashing set of fangs was cut in half with a single sweep, another with bandoliers of human hands strung about its neck was beheaded by a backswing and a charging foe with blood painting its face had its heart torn out by a swift lunge. Ajax planted his feet and killed any Ork who came at him, every movement deadly and swift. He struck with all the fury in his hearts, making a pile of dead to rival that at the door. He was indomitable, yet the Orks just kept coming. Guardsmen were falling in droves, unable to withstand the sheer carnage of the scene, the Storm Heralds were all that was preventing a total rout.
"We're barely slowing them down!" Iagion yelled as his Friction Axe left cauterised wounds everywhere.
"Kill faster!" Ajax roared.
"Smoke Jaguars are beset!"
"Forget those cowardly wretches, just kill Orks!"
"We need to fall back and regroup at the tunnel!"
"No, here comes the warboss!"
Through the din of the melee came Orkamemnon, it could be no other. A clanking Cybork, stomping through the fray with a dread aura of menace. Greenskins parted before him, making way for their leader. Shots tried to touch his flesh but the shooting was light and erratic, nothing stood between him and the centre of the defence. Orkamemnon headed for the throne straight as a bullet from a gun, his course unwavering and direct. Ajax however had other opinions.
Ajax's jump pack ignited and he shot into the air. His arc was perfect, bringing him down towards Orkamemnon in a single bound. He lifted Storm's Wrath over his head and brought it down in a vertical slice, using all of his strength, weight and momentum to make the blow irresistible. One hit and he'd cleave the Ork head to groin, ending this war with a single sweep of his blade, but Orkamemnon was faster. A staff whirled out of nowhere, crackling with electrical energies. It caught Ajax an instant before he could strike and sent him hurtling off to the side, nerves firing with wild discharge. Orkamemnon didn't even bother to break stride, merely swatting him aside like a bug and ploughing on.
Ajax went headfirst into a stream, water closing over him. He felt muscles spasm as motive force coursed through him. Water clogged his jet intakes, dragging him backwards as ironshod boots stomped on his frame. He was battered head to toe, stunned by the strength of the Ork warboss and being crushed by many feet, but he had Storm's Wrath in hand and he wasn't dead. Ajax managed to get his boots on firm ground and surged upwards, throwing Orks aside as he rose from the waters. A single moment before they rushed him and his jet exhausts spewed only vaporised water as they struggled to clear, but then pure flame shot forth and he soared again.
A split second to reorientate himself, more than enough for a Transhuman brain. The Imperial line was broken, scattered survivors fleeing for the far tunnel. The Astartes were falling back, buying time. Storm Heralds walking backwards as they emptied bolters into the wall of enemies, Smoke Jaguars weaving a complicated web of cross-covering fire that kept the Greenskins at bay. It was verging on a rout, but the Ork warboss wasn't pressing his advantage, instead heading straight for the Throne itself.
"What the Frak?" Ajax cursed, "Iagion!"
"With you!" came a reply.
"Hit them hard!"
Ajax twisted in mid-air and fired another burst of thrust to send him shooting into the packed mob of Orks surrounding the warboss. He struck like a meteor, scattering bodies left and right as he ploughed into them. His bones shook and armour cracked but his blade's teeth tasted blood as he tore through the packed foe. Boots touched ground and he drove forward, a roundhouse blow sweeping foes aside in gory chunks. Orks fell before him, unable to withstand his furious assault, but then he came in range of Orkamemnon again and this time the warboss deigned to notice him.
A backhanded blow caught Ajax and sent him flying, tumbling head over heels as a leaf torn from the branch by whirlwind. Ajax had never been hit so hard, not once, and the impact drove all air from his lungs. He hit dirt an instant later, his armour wailing of broken systems, deafening in his ear. Numb coldness gripped his chest, telling of serious injury within, even as his genhanced frame sought to rebuild him. Fire and ice fighting for dominance within his body.
Time slowed as Ajax's gaze took in the scene, the Governor and the priests falling to the Greenskin's Choppas. Rodziel collapsed into a gory heap, desperately trying to stuff his intestines back in, the damned fool hadn't listened, his death would be slow and painful. The Vanguard Veterans were fighting at the edges, Iagion contesting with a Black Ork who wielded a shield and angle grinder, but Ajax's focus was on the Warboss. Orkamemnon strode to the bier where the Crown lay and smashed it open with a single punch, then reached within and grabbed the ugly piece of crap.
The second the Ork laid a hand on it a wave of pressure swept outwards, light inverted and sound become deadened. Ajax felt pressure between the ears, his teeth itched and a torrent of whispers unheard but ever-present was in his ear. Psykanna power, he recognised the taint all too well. Warp Hells, that Throne-damned twist of barbed metal actually did something, and judging by the way his skin crawled it was nothing good. Ajax felt sick to his stomach and lightheaded, but that was nothing to the effect on Orkamemnon. The Warboss stood stock still, stunned into rigidity. A corona of power played about his skull and his eye was distant, seeing vistas beyond comprehension. All other Orks stood amazed, gazing at him in disbelief, transfixed by the aura of power he owned.
"I'm not dead yet!" Ajax snarled as he threw himself flat and engaged his jump pack. Like a missile he slammed into Orkamemnon's back, crashing bodily into the Warboss and sending him toppling to the dirt. The crown left his hand, rolling away from his grip. An instant to exploit the moment but Ajax's sword arm was dragging behind. Ajax settled for slamming a boot into Orkamemnon's face then dove for the crown. His fingers locked tight about the metal and he felt nothing, no aura of psykanna power, but if the Orks wanted it, that was reason enough to not let them have it.
"Disengage!" Ajax bellowed as he made his escape.
"Oi!" Orkamemnon yelled after him, "Dat Grubbins mine!"
"Disengage!" Ajax roared as he leapt into the air, "Fall back now!"
A single bound saw him sweep towards the escape tunnel, where Storm Heralds and Smoke Jaguars were forming a final redoubt. A few Guardsmen ducked into the evacuation corridor, barely one in twenty who'd defended this room. Gaps in squads told a more harrowing tale, Brothers lost, noble lives given to slow the Orks, only time would tell if it was worth the sacrifice. But there was no more that could be done here.
"Time to go!" Ajax yelled as he landed.
"Why did you grab the relic?" Lujan barked from where he was directing squads to fall back.
"The Orks wanted it, that's all I care about," Ajax retorted, "Iagion, where are you?! If you're dead I will dig up your rotting corpse and kick you back into life!"
"Here," Iagion called as he pushed through the streaming evacuees, "We have thirty seconds till they mob us!"
"Fall back now!" Lujan snapped, "All squads into the tunnel, blow the entrance the second the last Marine is inside!"
Orks roared in anger as they raced to prevent the escape but it was too late. Storm Heralds and Smoke Jaguars ducked into the tunnel, streaming down its sharp angle to safety. Ajax wasn't the last to go, but neither was he the first. He pressed into the darkness, feeling the weight of the roof over his head. Ten metres down and the first blasting caps went off, sealing the entrance. The universe went dark as clouds of grit surged down the cramped confines and his vision shifted to wire-frame mode as he heard Ork hands scrabbling at the loose stone above. It would barely slow them by a minute, but by then the Astartes would be much deeper within and could blow the tunnel properly. Ajax hurried along, seeing only backpacks ahead as they ran for their lives but he lifted the barbed crown in his grip to his eye and muttered, "What the Frak are you?"