Legends of the Smoke Jaguars Chapter 190

Citywide the Pict-screens were playing on a loop, announcing the fall of the Palace and the valiant defenders that had died heroically during its downfall. A grey-haired man in a gold-threaded Adminstratum robe spoke earnestly from the public address plates, his words echoing throughout the city. Governor Rodziel featured prominently in those announcements, fighting side by side with the defenders, sword in hand and taking a dozen Xenos down with him. His last words were a stirring cry of defiance, calling upon the people of Coronam to resist the alien invader and give their lives to throw back the Greenskin savages. It was, in Ajax's opinion, complete and utter Grox-dung.

"Turn that pox-ridden gasbag off!" Ajax snapped.

"He serves his purpose," Charael retorted, "Public morale must be maintained."

"I don't give a Frak about the morale of mortals!"

"That is why you are not a Captain, there are wider issues to consider than the edge of our Eviscerators, the presentation of information is crucial to the prosecution of war."

"It's lies, damned lies and even more lies!"

"That is how it must be," Charael rejoined.

Ajax bit off a curse, angry but unable to argue the point. From his vantage he could see streams of Guardsmen hurriedly setting up gunposts in the streets and avenues between mansions. Snipers were taking up positions in lofts and platoons were creating crossfires to cover junctions. A Leman Russ Punisher reversed into a garage, lying hull-down until the enemy appeared. A group of pasty-faced rookies were stringing Razorwire and trip mines across the most obvious approaches while some Hardened Veterans passed around iho-sticks and jeered, some of them bearing badges proclaiming they'd survived over a year in the Imperial Guard, they must be elite veterans indeed to have lived so long.

This was the Purple District, laying west of the Palace. Here the merchant-classes spent their lives striving, dreaming of joining the social elite while sneering at the impoverished masses who lurked in the Rathaus even further to the West. Artisans, singers, medicaes, jewellers and trade-factors, those with skills in demand but lacking the generational wealth to be counted noble. Their houses were grand but lacked individuality, blandly uniform in their consistent colouring, the doors utterly identical as if checked by frowning matrons with clipboards. Even the tiny patches of grass they displayed as gardens were interchangeable, not a single blade too tall, Ajax suspected someone crept by at night with a ruler to check. It was laughable, these people seemed to think they could advance their lot by mimicking the ruling classes, as if primness and politeness could replace money and power. The so-called nobles they wished to join would drink and gamble and whore their nights away, rutting on furniture more expensive than these houses.

Ajax shook his head, knowing all this would be rubble soon. The Orks would come and this petty suburb would be smashed flat, all that effort to claw up the social ladder rendered moot. He turned and found an improvised command centre being thrown up in some dining hall, Vox-sets being blessed on tables stripped bare of dollies and mud-covered bottoms plonked on chairs luxuriously furnished as crude headsets were pulled over ears. A dining table was covered in maps as Lieutenants hastily placed coloured blocks to represent units. In the corner a pair of Tech-priests argued over a stubborn Holo-Projector, whose Machine Spirit had picked that hour to refuse to cooperate. The Tech-priests were dousing it with incense and sacred unguents as appeasements. Ajax wondered if he should point out that the power cord had fallen out when a scurrying adjutant tripped over it, then decided not to interfere, the mysteries of Technology were best left to those properly ordained.

Chapter Master Lujan's voice cut through the din, "The Palace has fallen faster than predicted, but in taking it the Orks have exhausted their momentum. Their mad rush has left them overextended and disorganised. It will take precious time for them to reform their ranks and muster the numbers to press forward, time we can use to prepare our defences."

Lujan was standing over the chart table, assessing the state of affairs. With him were his advisors as well as General Vregust of the Guard and Huacho of the Smoke Jaguars. A representative of House Orhlacc was present, but with only two Knights remaining their contribution would be marginal. The rest of the room Ajax dismissed as irrelevant. The defence of Coronam would be devised here and now.

Vregust leaned forward with a scowl, "Governor Rodziel should be here."

Ajax answered that with a sneer, "The idiot refused to move when told to and died for it."

"Yet you rescued the crown!"

"The Orks wanted it, the Warboss was fixated upon it. That's good enough reason for me to keep it from him."

Charael interjected, "And the Psykanna effect?"

Huacho spoke up then, "The Seers of Copan scent an ancient spoor upon the wind, Xenos of an age beyond the scope of knowing. Not born of the devils in the warp, nor the minds of men. To the touch of humanity it is indifferent but when the Orruk grow near it blazes as the beacon fire at night. To allow our heart-foe to claim this trophy would spell disaster for a thousand times a thousand worlds. This must not come to pass."

Ajax was loathe to accept the word of the deviant, but the Storm Heralds had brought no Librarians so he was forced to trust their assessment. The crown had been taken from him by a bevvy of Sanctioned Psykers, carried over the river to the Sanctum Imperialis. There it would be sealed behind psychic wards, safe behind the massed armies of the Imperium. The Orks would have to fight through every layer of defence to reach it again, which admittedly seemed likely to happen.

Lujan took up the narrative, "I have sent Astropathic word for an Inquisitor to come, but they will not arrive before the relief fleet. Our latest update is that a squadron of Navy ships brings a hundred thousand Guardsmen to reinforce us, but the warp tides are unfavourable. The Navigators estimate six to eighteen weeks until they arrive. We must plan our defence accordingly."

Ajax grunted, "In other words: we're Frakked."

Charael glowered at him, "Defeatist talk, from you?!"

"I'm not blind! The Orks blew through every defence we threw up in a fraction of the time we predicted. They're going to keep coming no matter what we do!"

Lujan snapped back, "The Orks may have been more animated than we expected but their recklessness has cost them dear. The Triumphal Way is buried in bodies, and the Palace cost them even more. The plan is working, General Vregust has more details."

The Imperial Guard General seemed smug, as if winning some political point, and took out a data-slate, "Our scouts were able to get an accurate count of the Orks as they passed through Victory Gate. We now judge their initial force stood at five hundred thousand Greenskins, but breaking into the city, storming the Triumphal Way and breaching the Palace has reduced their numbers by thirty-seven percent. That's a hundred and eighty-five thousand Xenos slain, for thirty-seven thousand Guardsmen. A kill ratio of five-to-one. We currently have forty-five thousand Guardsmen active, and walking wounded."

Ajax scowled, "I'm no logistician but at that rate we'll run out of bodies before the Orks do."

Lujan nodded, "We must harden our defences and make that ratio higher, use whatever time we have to set a layered trap for the Greenskins. I want that ratio to be ten-to-one before they reach the river."

"We've recovered Macrocannons shells and Apocalypse Missiles from the city walls," Vregust proposed.

"And we've got no guns that point inwards," Ajax growled.

"A spirited man can make up any shortfall!" Charael declared.

"If your plan is prayer, then we may as well give up now!" Ajax snarled.

It was then Huacho interjected, "To count the number slain on the Abacus' beads is not the way of the Smoke Jaguars. We shall go amongst the Orruk to sow confusion and dismay among them, break their will to fight and bring bedlam unto them. Slay but a hundred of the Black Orruk and their will shall shatter as rusted iron!"

"An offensive?!" Vregust spat, "You must be mad!"

"He is correct," Lujan concurred, "The Codex Astartes clearly dictates this situation calls for a defensive action."

"Blood for time," Huacho hissed, "Lives for ground, this is the counsel of failure!"

Ajax snapped, "And to hare off unchecked is going to achieve piss all! I love reaping Ork heads as much as the next Marine, but I'm not idiot enough to charge three hundred thousand Orks!"

Lujan set his hands down on the table to expound, "The plan has not changed! We fight them house to house through the Purple District and into the Rathaus, giving ground to prevent being overrun. We bleed them white while conserving our strength. When the Orks reach the river we blow the bridges and hold the western bank. Reduce the Ork's number enough and they won't be able to breach our lines. The key to this remains Hanged Man Lane and Bridgeway, those roads are our greatest vulnerability. I am assigning all our mechanised units and remaining Knights to deny that approach as long as they can. General Vregust, you shall take command of the roadways, I shall command the urban conflicts directly."

The tanks wouldn't hold, everyone knew that, if the Orks brought their Stompas to bear no amount of battlecannons could stop them. Time remained the deciding factor, the Imperials must delay the Greenskins on the roads long enough to bleed the rest in urban combat. It would be bloody work; few men would survive, but a victorious strategy demanded sacrifice.

Ajax spoke up, "What of the civilians in this city?"

"The significant personages have been evacuated to the western city," Lujan declared.

"And the insignificant?"

"What of them?" Lujan blinked.

"They must be moved across the bridges too!"

But Lujan shook his head, "Impractical."

"You won't even try to save them?!"

Huacho agreed, "You are a purveyor of neither hope nor fear, despair do you carry in your hands."

"The general populace cannot be moved," Lujan declared, "We have neither the space to house, nor the granaries to feed, so many in the western districts. The people will have to hide as best they can and weather the storm, we will have our hands full fighting the Orks as it is."

It was a harsh proclamation, the Storm Heralds counted themselves defenders and champions of mankind, but the cruel realities of war were inexorable and unrelenting. For the many to live some few must die, Ajax knew well that you couldn't save everyone. Perhaps some bold hero could have found a way to chart a safe passage between impossibilities, but he was a better Marine than Ajax would ever be. It made his hearts heavy but the cruel calculus of war was inarguable. Sometimes the life of a Space Marine was not all glory and victory, some days were bitter beyond words.

Lujan declared, "We face a terrible battle and we will be fortunate if the Orks give us a single day to prepare. We must direct every effort to entrapping the ground before they attack again."

Charael lifted his chin high to pray, "May the Divine Emperor send us good fortune and courage in the days to come!"

"Would be better if He sent us a Titan Legio," Ajax muttered but the group was breaking up already.

Heavy in spirit Ajax turned his back and made to exit, as Lujan bent over the charts and began laying out unit dispositions. The Storm Heralds would already be in place, they knew their Codex well. Ajax stepped out the door and descended a flight of stairs, only to find a Smoke Jaguar waiting for him. The face was unfamiliar, banded in black tattoos, but the armour was unmistakable, the same one Ajax had saved in the Palace.

"Arjax-lel, I would speak with you," the Smoke Jaguar uttered.

"I would not," Ajax snapped as he made to brush past.

"I am Vitcos, son of Copan, and I offer high esteem for your aid in battle Your murdering was fast and vicious, keen of aim and sure of hand. I would learn more of the apex predator among Storm Heralds."

"I have no time for your nonsense!" Ajax snapped.

But Vitcos would not be turned away so easily, "The esteem of a Smoke Jaguar is no passing boon."

Ajax's patience snapped as he spat, "Your flowery words grate on my nerves! I have no time nor patience for your simpering and slinking. I am a weapon of the Emperor; I exist to kill His enemies and yet I am constantly thwarted in my mission! I have you bleating in my ear, a Chaplain harping on about faith and visions and a Master whose head is turned by the slightest fancy. Four hundred years I have debated ponderous matters of doctrine and I am tired of it! Tired of the same old arguments, tired of being the only one who can see clearly what has to be done! Enough, I say, enough! I am going to go out there and slaughter Orks until my arm breaks and my Eviscerator chokes on entrails. You can stay here and write poetry, but I am done Frakking about!"

Ajax turned and stormed out the door, leaving Vitcos in his wake. The rebuke was ringing but the Smoke Jaguar only looked thoughtful. He cocked his head and mused, "Such fierce ardour, such bloodlust in his eyes. Truly he was born into the wrong Chapter. Surely glory flows in his wake, esteem I would share if I walked in his shadow. And he too clashes with a Headsman, mirror souls are we. I must know more of Arjax-lel and I know just the bait to draw him out."