Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 185
"The left flank is collapsing, prepare to withdraw!" Chapter Master Lujan voxed.
"No need, I'm on it!" Ajax roared as he sprinted across the battlefield.
"This position cannot hold!" High Chaplain Charael warned.
"It will hold!" Ajax snarled.
"Whatever you do, do it hard and fast!" Lujan commanded.
"Only way I know how!" Ajax laughed.
The Vanguard Veterans pounded across the warzone, feeling glassic and brick dust crunching under their feet. Crossfires scythed down from surrounding mansions and distant artillery hurled shells overhead, deep into the enemy's ranks. The Triumphal Way was a charnel house, littered with dead bodies and burned-out tanks. Kilometre after kilometre of carnage, stretching all the way back to Victory Gate. The Imperial Guard had put up a ferocious fight for every inch but had been forced back time after time, leaving their dead to rot. Three days of constant engagement, three days of total war that had seen them driven back to the very edge of the Pleasaunce Park. For the sake of ten kilometres of road thousands of Guardsmen had laid down their lives, but the price for the Orks had been tenfold that tally.
Green corpses lay in piles, burned by lasfire, exploded by rocket and shell, immolated by Flamers and torn asunder by Heavy Bolter shots. Heaps of brutal Xenos oozed on the cratered surface, their lives spent to gain another metre of roadway. They had braved vicious crossfires, pelted through artillery barrages and waded through airstrikes, all to face walls of lasrifles and torrents of Battlecannon shells. For all that they had succeeded, reaching the defender's lines time and time again, only to be met by the Storm Heralds.
Ajax spied a knot of blue Ceramite on the left flank, supported by a rag-tag bunch of Guard platoons and tanks. Bolters thundered and lasrifles spat fire, as a Hellhound tank spewed burning Promethium in a wide arc. Charael was with them, his Crozius blasting foes away with concussive power. They were trying to deny the wave of green flesh piling in on all sides, but could not hold. The Greenskin's numbers were too great. A brave stand, but a last stand, Ajax however wasn't prepared to accept that.
He spied a knot of Rokket Boyz lurking in the shadow of a statue erected in the middle division of the roadway. It was twenty metres tall and fashioned as the Emperor in battle regalia. Its base was chewed by explosions and Lascannon hits, but it still provided shelter for the Orks as they hefted crude anti-tank munitions to their shoulders. Their intent was clear, they would take out the Helhound and eliminate the threat to their comrades, not to mention dousing the Imperials in flaming Promethium. But before they could line up a shot Ajax was moving. Turbines howled as he leapt into the sky, soaring for the tip of the statue. He slammed into the mass with bone-jarring force, then opened his exhausts wide. The Jump Pack howled, adding to the momentum of his impact and the force shattered the statue's crumbling foundations. The whole statue toppled over, casting a deep shadow over the Rokket Boyz. They looked up in surprise, only to find a mass of Ferrocrete dropping on their heads, then it crashed to the dirt and squished them into paste.
Ajax had already leapt clear. His arc brought him down among another knot of Orks, trying to sneak about the flank He hit them like a wrecking ball, shattering spines as his Ceramite mass drove into them. The Greenskins reeled and before they knew what was happening Ajax was on his feet. Storm's Wrath howled as he drew the blade, tearing apart a foe from shoulder to hip in a single blow. Momentum carried him forward, smashing a shoulder into another's back and sending it sprawling in the dust. Ajax pivoted on his heel, bringing his blade about in a wide slash, tearing enemies asunder.
The Orks overcame their surprise rapidly, turning to face him with cleavers and spikes in hand, only to find the rest of the Vanguard Veterans piling in. They fell from the sky, weapons flashing, power fields parting flesh and armour with ease. Five more Storm Heralds, living up to their names, overpowering the Orks as a force of nature unleashed. Ajax was at their head, breaking legs and cleaving skulls, tearing out throats and reaping lives with abandon. He was in his element, he loved it and he yelled, "Die you crap-eating Dungweasels!"
A sudden roar from the heavens was a trio of Vulture Gunships sweeping overhead, chinguns blazing and missile pods streaming explosives into the distance. They smote the ranks of Orks yet closing, blasting the waiting mobs before they could touch the Imperial line. A rokket came out of nowhere and smote one Vulture, sending it careening to the ground in a blazing streak of crashing metal. This was to prove a pyrrhic victory, its arc seeing the flaming meteor slam into a Trukk packed with Boyz, killing them all in a rising fireball. The Ork ranks shivered at the blow done upon them and Ajax sensed their momentum was shaken.
"The Divine Emperor sends an omen!" Charael's voice proclaimed.
Ajax muttered under his helm, "Not again, he'd steal any omen that isn't nailed down."
"What?!" Iagion called.
"Nothing," Ajax deflected.
"We've got them on the run… we can… glurk!"
Iagion went down as a trio of Orks jumped him. Ajax was there a moment later, ripping out spines and tearing apart the foes mobbing his fallen Brother. He fought wildly to save his squadmate, but even then his ears picked out the sound of engines closing and Heavy Weapons thundering. In the corner of his eye he spied the Land Raider Pride of Lujan closing, with a pair of Rhinos in tow. Lascannons flared and prow Heavy Bolters swept the Orks as the ramps slammed down and more reinforcements arrived. Chapter Master Lujan led two assault squads with chainswords and boarding shields into the fray, driving into the very heart of the foe. The Sword of Thiel flashed in his hands, its ancient power field smiting anything within reach. Lujan was swift and deadly, too much for the Orks to handle. Their courage broke and they fled before him, running away as fast as their boots could carry them. They wouldn't stay gone long, Ajax knew that, they'd be back, they always came back.
"Iagion?" Ajax called as he stowed Storm's Wrath to heave Ork bodies aside.
"I'm alive!" Iagion called from beneath the pile, "I think one of them got me."
"Frak," Ajax cursed as he rolled a body aside to find Iagion had a spar of shorn metal driven into his left pectoral, clotting Larraman cells indicating it had penetrated his Black Carapace.
"You need an Apothecary," Ajax sighed.
"I don't think that's necessary," Iagion argued.
"You've been run through!"
"They didn't hit anything vital. Just pull it out."
"It's deep," Ajax warned.
"I said pull it out!"
"As you will," Ajax agreed wrapping both hands about the spar, "On the count of three… one!"
Ajax ripped backwards and tore the spar out of his Brother's chest. The metal made a slurping noise as it came out, taking a tangled knot of clots with it. Iagion snarled in pain as he jerked with the motion, then collapsed onto his back, propped up by his thrusters. His wounds were deep but he would recover, the same could not be said for others. Ajax spied a pair of Astartes bodies laid out in the dust, chests violated by Narthecium drills, where Gene-seed had been harvested. Two Brothers, killed before his squad could intervene, a distressing tally. Many had fallen on this road only to be up and fighting again within a day, a Space Marines' ability to recover from injury was truly remarkable, but some wounds could not be withstood. A harsh reality they all must face.
"Does your squadmate require spiritual succour?" Charael called out as the Chaplain closed.
"Hardly, this was no true fight. Iagion here was so bored he decided to take a nap," Ajax deflected with gallows humour.
"Frak you!" Iagion snapped as he poked at his suppurating chest wound.
"Is that how you address a senior Brother?!" Charael snapped testily.
"Frak you Brother-Sergeant!" Iagion grumbled.
"See, he's hale," Ajax chuckled, "We better get ready to meet the Orks again before they return."
Charael shook his head, "This defence line can no longer hold. We must give ground and reform in the Palace."
"Retreat again?!" Ajax snarled, "We have done nothing but run since Victory Gate fell!"
"Not true, we have bled the Orks copiously, their numbers have been reduced significantly. Every metre given up has cost them hundreds of lives, while our losses remain manageable. But we have run out of ground to fight over. Behind us lies only the Pleasaunce Park, open ground where the Orks can bring their full numbers to bear. We cannot hold that, we must fall back to the Palace proper."
"He speaks truly!" Lujan called as he strode over. The Chapter Master was resplendent as ever, his gold embellishments shining and his plate proud, even the bloodstains seemed badges of honour to match his purity seals. He walked unhelmed and Ajax removed his to match. Cold air struck his face and the smells of blood-iron and opened bowels hit hard, mixed with the scents of burning Promethium, heated metal and roasting flesh. The reeking stench of a battlefield was somehow always missed out of Adaministratum approved propaganda vids.
"I am ordering a fallback from the city walls," Lujan ordered, "All remaining units on the outer perimeter will be pulled back, its Macroweapon munitions will be relocated to the western half of the city."
"We're abandoning the walls?" Ajax frowned.
"The Orks seem strangely uninterested in expanding their avenue of entry, concentrating solely on getting through the Victory Gate. The truly curious part is they aren't trying to expand into the city proper, our Smoke Jaguar allies report only probing thrusts on the flanks, the Orks seem obsessed with getting to the Palace."
"I don't trust those renegades," Ajax growled, "They reek of Heresy!"
"They fight well, if nothing else. I am recalling them to the Palace, to make a stand at our side."
"Fight shoulder to shoulder with those deviants?!"
"That is my strategy," Lujan stated flatly.
"I don't trust the likes of them to watch my back!"
Lujan's response was to frown in amusement and tilt his head down sharply. Ajax followed his gaze and took in the ruin of his plate, cracked in a hundred places, patched up with repair paste and then cracked again. The blue colours were barely discernible over his breastplate, the greater mass of it shaded slate-grey of hasty field-repairs. Even he could not deny he looked a state, especially compared to the shining perfection of Lujan's heraldry. The ferocity of battle was writ over his armour, and the bleeping in his earbead told that his fuel tank was perilously low.
"I get your point," Ajax snorted, "We have to regroup."
"Will the Palace be able to withstand the Orks?" Charael enquired.
"I deduce it could deny the rank and file Greenskins, but against the Stompas it will not hold for very long."
"Frakking House Orhlacc," Ajax grumbled, "They were supposed to deal with the Stompas."
Lujan sighed, "The Knights are outnumbered and outgunned, but they did reduce the Ork's superheavies by a fourth. Attempts to close again have been thwarted by the mass of Greenskins and the Knight's power cores are depleted. They have withdrawn to the Palace to recharge and rearm, they will be ready before the next fight begins. We need to follow suit, I am sending the tanks and injured into the city proper, but the hardest Guard fighters will stand with us at the Palace. I expect it to fall, and we will withdraw when it does, but I am counting on its defences bleeding the Orks badly before it succumbs."
Ajax glanced to the side and saw the battered Guardsmen already falling back, heading across the boundary between Triumphal Way and Pleasaunce Park. A kilometre within the Palace lay, its high walls offering sanctuary, its many gun turrets promising to turn the picturesque fields and winding streams into a slaughterhouse. With hundreds of Space Marines defending the bastions it would be a hard challenge for any foe to break, the Astartes would fight for every crenulation and corridor but Ajax knew that protection was hollow. The Orks would not be stopped, if Victory Gate could not hold then that Palace wouldn't either. But taking it would cost more Greenskin lives, going that much further toward righting the scales of power. He trusted Lujan's assessment, he had no other choice.
Charael remarked, "I will contact the Governor and tell him the time has come to relocate his sacred relic."
"Frak that ugly crown," Ajax snarled, "If he wants to live, he better move his arse now!"
"Ritual observances are not to be scorned!" Charael retorted.
"Don't tell me that, tell the Orks," Ajax snapped, "They're coming whether he's got his toy or not. If he wants to live then he better do as we say. That Palace is coming down, and there's nothing the Storm Heralds or the Smoke Jaguars can do to change that."