With the platoons redistributed, Toria was organising his squads to accommodate Sergeant Nubis’ demolitions experts. Their role was to arm the four Sentinels. He also found additional weak points that he thought could be destroyed with simple explosives, of which the squads had plenty. Meanwhile, the vehicles revved their engines, preparing for departure. The four remaining booby-trapped Sentinels were already on their way to the various weak points, which left the command Chimera, and the triage Chimera conscripted by the medicae. The latter was to transport the injured inside and on its rooftops for as far as they could go. Nobody wanted to consider what they’d do if the jungle grew too thick or too rocky to navigate.
Toria was checking the squads, ensuring they had all the necessary supplies, when one of his men, Private Lebbos Lassa, tapped him gently on the shoulder. Lassa, a young tribesman with sun-browned skin, was staring at a section of jungle, his eyes widened by fear, his hand slowly pulling his bolt pistol from its holster. “The leaves are moving,” he whispered.
The men in the squad noticed the furtive glances of their compatriots, and slowly unholstered their weapons, switching off their safeties in the process. Toria followed Lassa’s gaze and saw the fronds and their glowing yellow bulbs swing gently back in place. He activated his micro-bead, switching to the command channel.
“Colonel Dakar, can any tyranids become invisible?” he asked, almost whispering.
“Yes, they have chameleons.”
“In that case we have company, and they’re in the jungle.”
“Chimera gunners! Open fire on Captain Toria’s target,” Nisri said over the open channel. “All units… tyranids!”
Toria and Lassa fired the first volley, the second volley unleashed by their men. A moment later, the heavy bolter on the command Chimera opened up, spitting out a pummelling salvo of explosive rounds.
The barrage of shots peppered a section of trees where the fronds had moved, exploding entire tree trunks and shredding giant leaves. The rounds also punctured the air, slamming into something before the bolter rounds detonated. The creature only appeared as it detonated and sent out a blossom of chitin, yellow viscera and body parts. Other soldiers were already leaping to their feet and arming themselves, but it was too late; two more chameleons appeared out of thin air.
Their forms were terrifying. Long, undulating tentacles covered their mouths, rows of sharp pereopods ringed with spikes and hooks arched from their backs and around their bodies, sharp, extended claws adorned their lower arms, while their tails ended in hooded stingers. And, they were fast. One struck a nearby Guardsman in the thigh with its stinger, sending him into apoplectic seizures before his heart exploded inside his chest. The other one struck repeatedly with both pereopod spikes in lightning fast stabs that gutted another Guardsman in a matter of seconds.
Then, as quickly as they appeared, both chameleons vanished, before either man hit the ground.
The Guardsmen swung their guns, trying to find their targets, but the chameleons appeared intelligent. They attacked in the thick of the enemy, and soldiers couldn’t open fire on them without shooting one another. Panic spread through the Guardsmen, the swiftness of the attack blinding and shocking. Cries of “Where are they?” and “Where did they go?” abounded.
“Skirmish circles!” Toria shouted. His men immediately fell into tight circles, back to back, weapons pointed out.
“Get into skirmish circles,” the cry carried.
Toria watched as Guardsmen scrambled to protect one another and formed rapidly expanding huddles. He saw Turk pull Kamala into one, while the commissar, Tyrell and Nisri entered another.
A chameleon appeared, but whether it was a third creature or one of the first two, Toria didn’t know. It didn’t matter; the beast charged into a skirmish circle formed by Anuman’s B Platoon, swinging its claws and stabbing with its pereopods. Five men were caught in its onslaught, their bodies cut to ribbons and vital organs slipping through their fingers. One man managed to fire his lasgun into the creature’s torso at point-blank range. That single catalyst brought the other guns to bear, and Anuman’s men opened fire.
The chameleon vanished, but it could not escape the indiscriminate rounds. Ichor and carapace fragments appeared in mid-air, and with a knifing shriek, it reappeared. It stumbled back under the weight of the attack and fell, its chest cavity open, its raw organs spilling out on the grass.
As one died, another made its presence known. It moved past two men, shredding the meat and muscle of their thighs with a single swing of its claws, before vanishing. Both men hit the ground, crippled by the attack and screaming for help. Nobody had a chance to fire. It was so fast, it left Toria breathless. Guardsmen broke from their skirmish circles to help, but Rezail fired his bolt pistol in the air.
“No!” he shouted. “That’s what it wants you to do.” With a coldness that always seemed to exemplify the commissars, Rezail grabbed Tyrell’s laspistol, turned it on both wounded men and fired, executing them with precision shots to their chests. He turned the pistol back over to Tyrell and ignored the harsh, silent glares. Toria half expected someone to push him out of the circle.
The chameleon attacked again, this time on the other side of the groups. Toria turned in time to see it run through six Guardsmen of a skirmish circle who were too busy staring at the commissar to protect one another. Again, the chameleon’s movements were a dizzying blur of claw swipes and the piston-like speed of its stabbing spikes. In an instant, it managed to trample, eviscerate and impale all six men before it tried to vanish.
A curl of lightning arched out of nowhere, and struck the beast. Toria barely had time to register Kamala Noore standing there, arms outstretched. Electricity curled around her body, and as quick as it takes the mind to realise a thought, she struck it again. The blows weren’t intended to kill it, just to daze it.
Sure enough, the chameleon reappeared, just long enough for the closest Guardsmen to fill it with las-fire. The creature screeched its dying gasp.
The screech was answered by the angry cries of its kin.
“There’re more in the caverns already?” Lassa asked. “Merciful Emperor,” Toria said. “Up! Above us!” he shouted.
Everyone looked up in time to see the holes appear in the cavern’s ceilings. Waterfalls of sand cascaded down in thick pillars, but the holes also bled swarms of tyranids that dropped to the jungle below or began crawling along the ceiling. In seconds, it was raining death.
3
Nisri stared, dumbfounded at the scene before him, struck senseless by the death of paradise. The walls opened up, disgorging tyranids into the caverns, while more dropped into the jungle. The tyranids attacked anything and everything that wasn’t of their species, from the fleeing, scurrying animals to the vegetation, to the panicking Guardsmen. They were a devouring swarm of locusts, eating everything they came upon and fuelling the engine of their bio-factorums. With this prize, they could raise another army, invade more worlds. With this prize, it was conceivable they would no longer be just the splinter of a splinter fleet.
Turk slapped Nisri again, trying to get him to focus. It was an absurd moment, him striking a superior officer, a man he was much more comfortable killing in the midst of all their chaos. The Guardsmen fought a losing battle trying to stave off the tyranids that had taken an interest in them, but at least three squads were protecting Turk, Nisri, Rezail and Tyrell. Turk wanted to make sure that nobody died in vain.
Throughout the jungle, men screamed. They fell to scythes, claws, teeth and acid wombs. The command Chimera drove into the jungle to escape, the driver not realising or caring that he was shearing off wounded soldiers that were still on his roof. The medicae Chimera was only firing its lasguns on tyranids or Guardsmen that approached it. After a moment, it too roared away into the jungle under the control of its panicked crew, but there were already runners and dog-creatures on its roof, killing the hapless injured.
Duf adar Sarish, rather than allowing his remainin
g camels to die in the slaughter, was shooting them in the head with his laspistols, and firing at any tyranid that ventured too close to their bodies.
At this moment, Turk understood what it meant to have looked into the mouth of the abyss and found madness there.
“Leave me,” Nisri whispered, his heart broken of its faith. “Let me die here.”
“Coward!” Commissar Rezail said with a snarl. He raised his bolt pistol to fire, but Turk slapped it away and stared up into the face of the taller man.
“No!” Turk shouted. “If he stays, his men will too. We need all the help we can get in escaping and collapsing the caverns! Shoot me later if you must, but I’m assuming command.” Turk and Rezail locked eyes, the message understood. The commissar wouldn’t labour the point, but when this was over, Rezail would have his reckoning.
Rezail stepped back. “You’re in charge,” he said. “What is your first order?” Everyone flinched as a Sentinel moved past them, firing its autocannon on a pack of runners trying to advance on the group. Three of the beasts exploded under the hammering blows, while the remaining four darted away into the jungle’s underbrush.
“Better hurry, sir,” the Sentinel called over the micro-bead. “I can’t keep the tyranids off you for much longer!”
Turk looked at Nisri for a moment. He expected to see fire in Colonel Dakar’s eyes, the indignation of having a Banna steal away his command, but Nisri merely nodded his assent.
“Captain Nehari!” Turk shouted, calling over F Platoon’s commander.
Nehari, still coughing, ran up to Turk and saluted. He was pale, his eyes half-lidded and jaundiced.
“Protect Colonel Dakar. I’m in command until he’s in a right frame of mind. Move out to Basilica!”
Nehari nodded and took Nisri by the arm. Immediately, a squad of Turenag Guardsmen surrounded the colonel and captain, and escorted them into the jungle under suppressing fire. The Sentinel fired another stuttering salvo before moving past a thicket of trees. It vanished from sight, but they could still hear it unloading its main gun.
“All units,” Turk said into his micro-bead. “Withdraw to the first rally point at Basilica.”
4
The retreat was anything but orderly. The soldiers moved through the jungle in rough groups, losing men to their wounds or to tyranid ambushes. The Tallarn were not accustomed to jungle warfare. It was claustrophobic for soldiers used to fighting and manoeuvring in the open desert. The jungle carried sounds differently, the ground was rough and filled with treacherous pitfalls, and the sightlines made it impossible to determine what lay mere metres ahead.
There was only one salvation, and that was the rich biomass of the caverns. The tyranids were following racial imperative, and the imperative of their species demanded they consume everything in their path. They still sent out skirmish packs to hunt the humans, but that was no longer the sole focus of the horde. Consuming this world beneath the world was. The caverns represented a far richer resource of organic material than the Guardsmen could ever provide. They were but table condiments for the feast.
Turk and the others moved through the strange world gripped in yellow twilight, trying to remain quiet while pandemonium howled around them. It soon grew difficult to distinguish between the screams of the dying animals and those of the conquering tyranids. The only familiar sounds that reached them were the cries of their own men, the chatter of Imperial Guard weapons, and the reassuring thunder of the two active Sentinels as they ran through the underbrush, autocannons blazing to assist the different groups. After a while, the gunfire grew more and more sporadic, and, finally, the Sentinels were heard no more.
A group consisting of Turk, Rezail, Tyrell, Sarish, Quartermaster Sabaak and a handful of survivors from the various squads reached the limestone ramp and grand jagged awning that separated Apostle from Basilica. A handful of soldiers manning three heavy stubbers waved them through, while the broken bodies of Guardsmen and over fifty tyranids littered the entrance. Turk found himself studying the faces of the fallen, and recognised two Banna tribesmen by name. They hurried up the ramps, their advance covered by Captain Toria’s and Nehari’s men.
“Are you the last ones?” one of the Guardsmen asked.
“By the Emperor I hope not,” Turk said. “Booby trap the entrance just in case, frag charges and wires, but don’t leave until you can’t hold this position any longer.”
The men nodded. This was no longer a matter of military feints and tactics. This was adrenaline-fuelled survival, and decorum had fallen to the wayside.
A handful of squads sat resting on a small patch of rock between the jungle of Basilica and the cavern’s wall, among them, Colonel Dakar. Kamala Noore stood off to the side, her hood crackling and her attention distant. Turk was glad to see her. He offered her a quick smile, but could not tell if she was with them enough to recognise the gesture. He turned and addressed Captains Nehari and Toria. Nisri quietly joined them, listening instead of leading, as did the commissar. Rezail did not seem fond of either Turk or Nisri, but Turk could have cared less.
“How many reached the rally point?” Turk asked.
“Not nearly enough,” Nehari said before coughing. He was sweating, the toxins taking their toll. “Not counting the two Chimera that barrelled through here, fifty-two men, and the mind-witch.”
Turk swallowed the insult; now was not the time to defend his beloved’s honour. “Are the explosives set?” he asked Toria.
“Three are set. Four remain. I’m sorry, sir… with everything that happened, there wasn’t time.”
“You did well,” Nisri said. “You did nothing shameful.”
Toria offered his gratitude with a head nod, but he was discomforted by the compliment and by the Colonel’s apparently softened temper.
“You still have the explosives?” Turk asked.
“Yes, sir,” Toria replied, “and we have the men for it, but there’s something else. The tyranids are in the other caverns as well. They’ve dug in from every direction. We still can’t be sure if Sergeant Ballasra’s escape route is secure.”
“And where is the sergeant?” Nisri asked.
“Making his way to the entrance of the Golden Throne,” Nehari responded. “He’s awaiting our arrival.”
A high-pitched shriek from the jungles behind them startled the six men. Everyone heard it, and anyone sitting down was rising to his feet. Turk could see the leaves of the jungle canopy in Apostle swaying.
“Captain Toria, the burden of our survival falls on your shoulders,” lurk said quickly. “I need those Sentinels armed.”
“My men would like to help,” Nehari said. “We have a demolitions specialist with us, and we know where the Sentinels are.”
“Very well,” Turk replied. “Each of you take your best squad and get to those Sentinels. Make sure you coordinate your targets. Captain Toria, we need a tracker to guide us to the Golden Throne and I need a satchel of explosives.”
“Yes, sir, but may I ask why?”
“I need to collapse the last cavern to make sure nothing follows us. Now both of you, go!”
Both captains answered in the affirmative before running off in different directions. Likewise, Nisri, Rezail and Tyrell drifted away, making ready their escape.
“Everybody! They’re coming,” one of the Guardsmen at the entrance to Apostle shouted.
“Prepare to withdraw to the Golden Throne cavern,” Turk instructed.
The squads prepared to leave, helping one another to their feet, the line between Turenag and Banna lost in the ordeal. Kamala walked up to Turk and removed her hood. Dried blood clotted her nostrils, and her eyes were swimming in seas of red. Nevertheless, she appeared focused, intensely so. She stared at Turk, her last anchor in her sea of thoughts. She needed him, he could feel it pulsing off her skin in waves. Though they wanted to touch one another, embrace each other, they could not. Instead, they merely exchanged the briefest of smiles, his loving and encouraging, hers a terrible sadn
ess, contained.
“Sir,” Captain Toria said, returning to Turk. He handed him a satchel and motioned to a well-muscled man, his face covered by his kafiya and the occulars over his eyes. “Private First Class Venakh Mousar will be your scout. You’ll also need this,” he said, handing over a black metal vox. “It’s keyed to the explosives. Send the signal and they all blow up, including they one you’re holding… just in case we don’t make it.”
“Understood. Good luck.”
Toria offered a smart snap of a salute before rejoining his squad. The survivors then split into two groups, with Toria’s squad heading off towards Cavern Cathedral, and the main cluster of Guardsmen and Nehari’s squad travelling towards Devotion.
5
Jungle or not, alien world or not, the scouts of Toria’s group were good at their job, and right now, that was to move quickly and quietly. The Guardsmen double-timed it through the clusters of trees, over root tangles and under nets of hanging vines. They did not speak; they motioned to one another through hand signals, and the loudest things from their mouths were their breaths. Even the demo expert, Neshadi, from Nubis’ old platoon, was fitting in like a seasoned pro.
Captain Toria held up a fist, bringing the squad to a quiet halt. On cue, the men ducked behind trees or went low to the ground. They were less than ten metres away from the Sentinel, which was hidden near a thick column. By the slant of the ceiling above, Toria had chosen this location, because the pillar bore the weight of the rocky sky. A large explosion would not only collapse this section of cave, but the chain reaction would destroy the floor beneath them as well, sending everything tumbling into the cavern below. Toria hoped that all that shifting rock would cave in this section of the network.
[Imperial Guard 04] - Desert raiders Page 20
