Legends of the Smoke Jaguars chapter 202
The void shields were starting to fail. Over the eastern city they fizzed with static, creating displays of grainy corposant. Too many emitter vanes had fallen, too much of the area had been taken by the invaders. The envelope had been pulled back to protect the region nearest the river, but it was a stopgap measure only. The shield over half the city would soon lose integrity, and then the Ork's meagre fleet could rain down fire with impunity. Ramshackle was it was the defenders could not withstand such blows; they had to get out before the end came. The final day was upon them, and Ajax knew it all too well.
The Veteran Sergeant lurked in a low dwelling, silent and still. His plate bore marks of heavy fighting and Storm's Wrath was in dire need of reconsecration. Yet he lingered, waiting for the moment to be right. His squad were with him, those that yet remained. With Caddael lost, and later Brother Mihhod plunged into a sus-an-membrane coma, the Vanguard Veterans were down to four. Below combat effective status, according to the Codex Astartes, but there was no chance to withdraw and recover, not even the most ardent martinet could argue that.
Ajax could hear the river's sloshing echo penetrating the rude house. They were within a stone's throw of the waters, the very last and meanest quarter of the Rathaus. The dwelling they lingered in was filled with bodies of men and women, all thin and emaciated. No Xenos had done this, they'd killed themselves, judging by the needle marks on their arms. Some illicit drug den, where criminals exchanged bliss for coins. The smell of the was old and rancid, a stank of sin so ingrained on the walls that it would never fade. Here more than lives were ended, here dreams died. Some sold their labours as servants to the rich and mighty, others sought to rise in the lawless ranks of criminals, but for those lacking the strength and appeal there was only this miserable end. The poorest and most destitute of the city fleeing poverty the only way they could. It looked like they'd chosen a swift and blissful death rather than face the Orks when they came. Cowardice, Ajax's indoctrination condemned, but an older and sager part of him mused there was nothing these wretches could have done to stop the Xenos either way.
"Motion," Iagion warned from a hole that passed for a window.
"Stand ready," Ajax ordered as he took up his blade.
"We could come at them from above," Iagion suggested.
"The sky is lost to us, we have to use guile instead."
"Like the Smoke Jaguars?"
"Don't insult me," Ajax retorted but only as a reflex.
He switched his armour's viewpoint to an external feed, linking the machine spirit to a small pict-imager they'd positioned outside the house. A shabby street was revealed, strewn with rubbish and dead mastiffs, half-chewed away by what he chose to believe were rats. Down that street a platoon of Guardsmen retreated, snap-firing shots back the way they'd come. It was obvious at a glance that they were the torn remnants of a half-dozen regiments, thrown together in the furnace of combat. They had no officers to lead them, but a burly Sergeant managed to maintain some loose sense of cohesion, having half run backwards while the rest laid down covering fire, then switching. Through grit, courageous example and sheer volume the Sergeant kept the survivors together and alive. Good man, on such humble strength was the Imperial Guard built.
The Guardsmen fell out of the picter's angle but into the space came the reason for their flight. Orks, scores of Orks, jammed into the street and hollering for a taste of blood. They came as a torrent, waving cleavers and firing random shots after the fleeing humans. Days upon days of vicious slaughter may have reduced their numbers, but Ajax saw no sign of it, they were as fierce and eager as ever.
"Ten seconds," Ajax ordered as he disengaged the vid-feed.
"Any Black Orks?" Iagion asked
"None."
"Good, that makes this easier."
"Nothing about this is easy."
"Says you, I still intend to win our bet."
"Over my dead body," Ajax snapped, "On my mark... now!"
Power armour boosted legs drove Ajax forward. He wasn't aiming at any door, but that didn't matter. His Ceramite mass hit the thin matter of the wall and demolished it utterly, crumbly brick and ancient mortar exploding as his mass crashed into it like a wrecking ball. His autosenses were blinded by dust and his shoulder ached from the impact but when he emerged he was in the heart of the horde. Orks staggered, struck by chips of stone and eyes filled with grit, and Ajax took full advantage. Storm's Wrath roared as he tore the spine out of a staggering Greenskin, met the next with a lateral blow that opened its ribcage to spill guts everywhere then into a low slash that took out the knees of a third.
The Xenos reeled, struggling to recover without the guiding hand of a Black Ork. Ajax made the most of it, driving into their midst, hacking and slashing at anything yet standing. His righteous hatred of the vile creatures sharpened his speed, a rush of abhorrence that he expressed on the teeth of his blade. The Vanguard Veterans followed in his wake, ploughing through the reeling enemy with fierce ardour, letting the cutting edges of their weapons lead the way. No Ork could stand against them, and in the tight confines of the street Greenskin numbers meant little. Ajax grinned as he smote Xenos lives, reaping a great tally. Dead bodies lined the alleyway behind him, letting all know that he had passed.
"Keep the pressure up!" Ajax roared as he killed, "Don't let them regroup!"
"They're no match for us without their leaders!" Iagion hollered.
"Weaking Xenos scum you deserve only death, come at me and die!"
Ajax tore into the mob, hacking at the wall of green flesh. Wherever they stood he ended them, many of the bodies remaining upright, held up by the tight press of their fellows. Cleavers scored his plate and gnashing fangs bit at his vambraces but Ajax pressed on, driving into the melee with all his fury. The pressure was growing as Orks raced to meet him, enough to crush a grown man's ribcage in the vice of packed flesh, but Ajax was unbowed. His arms were weighed down by the mass of the enemy, but the spinning teeth of his blade cut him a path and he forged on. Nothing could stop him, but then a shadow fell over all.
Everything froze as heads lifted, beholding a nightmare of jagged plates and broad, armoured surfaces. A huge pot-bellied effigy loomed against the sun, a leering face of a command deck grinning down at them. Weapon arms rotated to come to bear, each able to blow this street to rubble, and fully prepared to do so despite the presence of Greenskins. A Stompa, crashing a path through the Rathaus, each step knocking over buildings as it cut a path for the river. It shouldn't be here, they were far from Hanged Man Lane, but here it was.
"What the Frak?!" Iagion gawped.
"Impossible," Ajax gulped in denial.
"They're flanking the defence," Iagiaon breathed, "What do we do?!"
"Withdraw!" Ajax yelled, "Get out!"
Jump packs flared, propelling the Vanguard Veterans into the sky. Ajax knew a thousand Orks could see them but that hardly mattered, if they didn't fly then they'd be dead. A perfect view had he of the tangled warrens of streets, and the glittering river ahead, and the towering Stompa as it opened fire. Twin tongues of flame erupted from one arm as the big Gunz let rip, spewing bullets as a furious torrent. The street they had just vacated was decimated, inundated end to end by the gushing waterfall of hot lead. The hordes packing the alleyway were gutted, hundreds of Greenskins reduced to ribbons by their fellows, but the gunners cared not. Jeering Boyz laughed as they disgorged hell, yanking on levers to rotate the gunz and follow the Vanguard veterans.
Ajax slammed onto a road some distance from their former position but did not pause. He dove headlong at a wooden door and smashed through, followed a moment later by his Squadmates. A dingy apartment, barely worth the term 'hovel', this was no protection at all. He charged through the building, Storm's Wrath held like a long rod to offset its weight. Even so his speed was inadequate and the roof rang with impacts as bullets struck home. Weak tiles did nothing to halt the onslaught and holes appeared everywhere, letting thin beams of light stab through.
"They've found us!" Iagion yelled.
"They can't see for crap!" Ajax barked, "They're just shooting everything in sight!"
"We can't fight a Stompa!"
"Then run faster before they..."
Ajax staggered as a bullet Richotted off his helm, pinging against the toughened Ceramite. The roof had robbed it of some momentum, that fact saved his life, but still the bullet came from a Superheavy and the weight of it rang his skull like a bell. Ajax's vision flashed purple, his legs stumbled and the world pitched and yawed like an oceanic boat on a high sea. They said a Space Marine could not be disorientated; they were wrong.
Ajax nearly fell but a hand caught his elbow and forced him upright. He could barely see, let alone bark a rebuke, but Iagion's hand forced him through a narrow door. A tiny avenue awaited and they dove through, risking the hail of bullets flying everywhere. Another domicile came and went, a street, another house and Ajax dared to think they'd got away. Then the world erupted behind him.
A missile salvo smote the block, blasting hovels and slums to kindling. Roaring explosions threw down walls, set alight rooftops and blasted doors inwards as flying shrapnel. Some of the homes had been abandoned, many had not. Elderly folk too weak to flee, criminals and beggars, those who refused to believe their lives could be changed, all died in an instant conflagration, blown to atoms by Xenos cruelty.
The shockwave picked Ajax up and hurled him into a wall. The soft brick indented as his weight crashed home, and then he fell backwards and hit the dirt. His head was pounding, his breath ragged and his chest a pincushion of red-hot skewers, but still he looked up and saw the Stompa lording over the destruction it had wrought. Did it see him laying helpless in the rubble, if so he would die. Ajax lay unmoving, waiting for death to claim him at last. It didn't seem too bad actually, he'd given all he had decade after decade till there was nothing left, if this was his end then it was his end. But fate flipped a coin and his life was spared. The Stompa failed to spot his tiny form amid the devastation and it turned away, making its waddling way towards the river.
"Is this hell?" Iagion groaned as he sat up.
"No, just life," Ajax muttered as he rolled over and got a knee under him.
"Feels like hell."
"Hell's not so painful as this," Ajax grumbled as he felt his chest burning hot where genhanced organs went to work fixing him up, "We need to report this... Ajax to Lujan..."
The vox crackled back, "Ajax, you live?! Thank the throne! The Orks are advancing up our auspex blind spots, cutting communication lines as they go, we never saw them coming. Stompas are moving through the Rathaus on four vectors moving to cut us off from the river. We must initiate a full-scale withdrawal to the western bank, before it's too late."
Ajax lurched to his feet, "We've got tens of thousands of Guardsmen trapped on the eastern bank, they'll never make it."
"They have as long as it takes for the Orks to reach the bridges, I'm ordering demolition crews to blow the spans the second a Greenskin gets within spitting distance. We'll wait as long as we possibly can but we cannot allow the enemy to cross that river!"
"Then I'll buy some more time," Ajax promised as he put one foot in front of the other.
"You won't delay them very long," Lujan warned.
"I'll hold the line as long as I can," Ajax avowed, "If nothing else I'll make the green bastards bleed!"