“I’d like to make the introductions, sir,” replied Sebastev, “but the bastard hasn’t told me his name yet.”
“I see,” said Kabanov. He faced the patriot-officer and said, “Your attire says you’re an officer. Act like one. Tell me your name and rank. My own name is—”
“Colonel Kabanov of the Vostroyan Sixty-Eighth Infantry Regiment,” interrupted the rebel with a grin, “formerly stationed at Korris, now occupying Nhalich East with the barest remnant of your force.” Lifting his hand slowly, he adjusted his fin-shaped hat. “I know who you are, colonel. I know your reputation. Had I realised you were not among the dead of yesterday’s battle, you might have found breaching our defences a lot harder than you did. Still, you won’t hold the town for long with so few men, and no help will come. Your Imperium has forsaken you just as it did the people of Danik’s World.”
“By Terra,” spat Sebastev, “you don’t have to listen to this, sir. Just say the word—”
Kabanov held up a hand. “In due course, captain, in due course. The man was just about to tell me his name.”
“Very well,” said the rebel. “I am Brammon Gusseff, a patriot-captain attached to the Danikkin Eleventh Mobile Infantry Division.”
“Patriot-captain, my eye,” hissed Commissar Karif from Kabanov’s right. “You are a faithless traitor to the Imperium of Mankind.”
Gusseff actually laughed at that. “The similarities between us offend you, commissar. That is most amusing. What is your name? You’re no Vostroyan.”
“There are no similarities between us, traitor.”
Sebastev looked over at Karif and saw his face twisted with hate.
“So you say,” replied Gusseff before returning his attention to Colonel Kabanov. “It seems, colonel, that there’s no shortage of Imperial slaves in this room who’d bloody their hands on your behalf. Perhaps they should fight amongst themselves for the privilege. That would provide some fine entertainment. Of course, if you do kill me, you’ll never open the case the machine-man is so interested in.”
Gusseff inclined his head towards the far corner, where Enginseer Politnov was occupied with something. The enginseer had spotted the case while the others were talking and was about the business of trying to open it. Despite his mastery of all things mechanical, he was having some difficulty.
“What do you have there, enginseer?” asked Colonel Kabanov.
Politnov turned his hooded head and said, “The case contains something of significant weight. There is a mechanism to avoid forced entry. If I attempt to open it without the relevant codes, the mechanism will destroy the contents. I believe there is a high probability that this case contains something of strategic importance.”
“Can’t you bypass the mechanism somehow?” asked Colonel Kabanov.
“Not with the equipment at hand, colonel. A number of the devices I require can be accessed at the Mechanicus facility in Seddisvarr.”
“What makes you think we give a damn what it contains?” growled Commissar Karif, stepping forward, ready to draw his chainsword. Colonel Kabanov put a hand on his shoulder and halted him.
“Case or no case,” said Gusseff, “I’m the first officer-patriot your idiotic forces have ever taken alive, and I expect to stay that way. Contact your superiors in Seddisvarr and inform them of my capture. You’ll find establishing contact somewhat easier than before.”
Lieutenant Kuritsin stepped forward. “Do you mean to say that you’ve disabled the jamming device? Where is it?”
“Jamming device?” asked Gusseff sardonically. “I really couldn’t say. Just call your superiors. I might be the only hope you have of getting back behind your own lines.”
“Enginseer,” said Colonel Kabanov, “do you judge that case adequate to hold a possible jamming device?”
“I do, colonel. It would need to be attached to a large vox-array in order to be effective, but such a device could be built to fit this case.”
“Is the device in the case, patriot-captain? Don’t play games.”
“I’ll say no more on that, colonel. Contact Seddisvarr, unless you want your men to die here when the next DIA armour columns come rolling into town, as they soon will.”
“Fine,” said Colonel Kabanov. “Enough of this. Where is the main communications console? I want to speak to Twelfth Army Command at once.”
“The console is on the uppermost floor, sir,” said Sebastev. “I can take you there.”
“Very good, captain,” said Kabanov. “No one is to kill this prisoner without my express consent. Any soldier who attempts to do so will be executed by Commissar Karif for disobeying a direct order.” Kabanov fixed his gaze on Patriot-Captain Gusseff and added, “We’ll find out soon enough, faithless wretch, whether you live or die.”
Lieutenant Kuritsin sat down at the console on Colonel Kabanov’s orders and began adjusting dials as he called into the vox-mic, “Six-eight-five to Command HQ. This is six-eight-five calling Command HQ. Are you receiving?”
There was nothing but the hiss of static and whining tones that rose and fell but never gave way to speech. Kuritsin adjusted his dials and tried again, but with the same results. He turned to Kabanov and said, “I don’t know what to think, sir. It could be the weather, I suppose. Even with an array like this, sir, the atmosphere of the planet could still be playing hell with long-range signals. Things aren’t too bad at our end, but I can’t vouch for the weather over Theqis.”
Just as he finished his sentence, a tinny voice sounded through the console speakers. “…Command… eight-five…”
Kuritsin hurriedly adjusted the dials, desperate not to lose the signal before he could lock onto it. Soon, the voice at the other end was coming through loud and clear. Kabanov let a look of great relief show on his face.
“This is Command HQ. We are receiving you, six-eight-five. Name and rank.”
“Command HQ, this is Lieutenant Oleg Kuritsin, speaking on behalf of Colonel Maksim Kabanov, commanding officer of the Firstborn Sixty-Eighth Infantry Regiment. The colonel is present and wishes to communicate directly with General Vlastan.”
“Very good, Lieutenant Kuritsin. My encryption glyph is lit. Please confirm that your own is also lit.”
Kabanov watched Kuritsin scan the console for the glyph that said comms encryption was active, securing the content of their transmission from enemy comprehension. There, on the left of the console, the glyph shone with a green light.
“Glyph is lit, command. I can confirm encryption is active.”
“Understood, lieutenant. I’ve got a standing order to patch any communications from regiments in your sector straight through to General Vlastan’s personal staff. Await further instructions.”
After a moment of relative silence, a different voice spoke. “This is Lieutenant Balkariev of the general’s communications staff. The general is on his way. In the meantime, please report your status.”
Kuritsin looked up at Colonel Kabanov, who nodded for him to proceed. “Fifth Company is currently occupying Nhalich East. Forces of the Danikkin Independence Army are entrenched in Nhalich West. The bridge between the two halves of the city has been destroyed by the enemy. We are unable to proceed across the river at this location. Our forces are down to…” Kuritsin pulled a piece of parchment from his greatcoat pocket and read, “Down to one-hundred and eleven men, eighteen of those seriously wounded. The rebel presence on this side of the river has been eliminated. Civilians are present in the town, currently being kept under guard. We have also taken a prisoner who claims to be a member of the Danikkin Special Patriotic Service. He claims to have something of strategic importance to both sides.”
“Have you… One moment, lieutenant. General Vlastan has arrived and wishes to speak directly with Colonel Kabanov.”
Lieutenant Kuritsin stood and offered Kabanov his seat. Kabanov sat down and immediately felt his body settle into the chair. He hadn’t realised just how fatigued he was. Now, with his legs able to rest for the first
time in hours, he dreaded having to haul himself out of it. His muscles ached and he longed for sleep. He forced himself not to let it show in front of the others.
“This is Kabanov.”
A wet, wheezy voice sounded from the console speakers. Even through the distortion of long-range vox, General Vogor Vlastan sounded a lot like he looked: a physical ruin of a man kept alive artificially.
“Maksim, Maksim,” he said, calling Kabanov by his first name, greeting him as an old friend. “Praise the Emperor you’re still alive. Damn this world and its bloody storms. We heard the DIA were moving up from Ohslir, but I knew the White Boar would see them off.”
“I regret to report, general, that we didn’t exactly see them off. The 701st and most of the Sixty-Eighth were lost in a major DIA offensive. The rebels managed to occupy Nhalich, blowing the bridge in the process and isolating the east and west banks. Our losses were… grievous, sir.”
“But you’re alive, Maksim. The White Boar lives on. You weathered the ambush and beat them back. There’ll be medals for this.”
“Please, general, you misunderstand me. The rebel ambush was a complete success. They wiped out every single Vostroyan company under my command but one. I only survived by the grace of the Emperor and because I arrived after the event with our rearguard company, Fifth Company, sir.”
The vox-speakers went silent for a moment. The only sound was the background hum and crackle of dead air. Then Vlastan spoke again. “At least you’re alive, Maksim.” The blustery tone had gone from the man’s voice, “And you’re holding Nhalich. That’s something.”
Damn you for an old fool, thought Kabanov. We couldn’t hold this place now if we tried. Half a company against Throne knows how many more orks or rebels? Don’t be insane.
“There’s more, sir.” Kabanov continued. “We’ve taken a captive, sir.”
“You surprise me, Maksim,” said Vlastan. “The Twelfth Army doesn’t take prisoners in this campaign. You know that. We’re stretched too thin already without worrying about detainees.”
“We believe he’s a member of the Special Patriotic Service, sir. He was apprehended in the relay station, coordinating the rebel defence of the building. He seems to think his life is of some significant worth to the Twelfth Army.”
Vlastan seemed to hesitate for a moment before saying, “A name, Maksim. Has he furnished you with a name?”
“He calls himself Patriot-Captain Brammon Gusseff, sir, attached to the Eleventh Danikkin Mobile Infantry Division, if I heard him correctly. His accent is very thick.”
Again the vox-speakers went silent. Kabanov had the distinct impression that General Vlastan was engaged in urgent discussions with others at his end. After almost a full minute, the speakers crackled to life again.
“Stay by your comms unit, Maksim. Just stay exactly where you are and await further communication.”
“Understood, sir.” Kabanov turned from the microphone. “Damned strange, all of this. It doesn’t feel right to me at all. Have any of you something to say?”
Atypically, it was Lieutenant Maro who spoke up first. “He recognised the traitor’s name, sir. I’m sure of it. He sounded unusually anxious. Throne knows why.”
Commissar Karif nodded and said, “I must agree with Lieutenant Maro, colonel.”
“Very well,” said Kabanov, “but I’m not sure what that suggests. We’re talking about a man directly responsible for the death of Vostroyan Firstborn. I don’t want to believe Twelfth Army Command is willing to deal with this devil.”
“The man did seem extremely confident that his life would be spared,” said Lieutenant Kuritsin. “Could he have pre-arranged his own defection on the promise of handing over the alleged Danikkin jamming device?”
Sebastev shook his head. “He’s not defecting. Why would anyone switching sides kill Vostroyan Firstborn? Something is wrong in all of this. I’ve got a very bad feeling about the man. Part of me thinks killing him would be a kindness.”
A sharp burst of static preceded Vlastan’s return to the airwaves. “Are you there, Maksim?”
“I am, sir,” replied Kabanov.
“Good. Listen carefully, old friend. I have new orders for you. They must be followed to the letter.”
Old friend he calls me, thought Kabanov, but would I have saved his life all those years ago if I’d known times like these would follow?
Kabanov ordered his adjutant to record the general’s words. Maro dug a battered old data-slate from a side pocket and began writing on the screen as General Vlastan said, “You are to take what’s left of your force, excepting anyone that can be expected to slow you down, and head north immediately to the town of Grazzen. When I say immediately, Maksim, you can be sure I mean exactly that. According to the most recent transmissions, our forces at Grazzen are under heavy attack from the greenskin horde. The orks have launched a major offensive there. If they reach either of Grazzen’s bridges, our Thirty-Fifth Armoured Regiment have been ordered to destroy them. I’ll send additional forces to Grazzen as soon as we’ve finished talking. That should help to keep the corridor open a little longer, but you must hurry. If you don’t reach Grazzen in time, Maksim, you and everyone with you will be stranded in Varanes. You will be lost to us. No further support will be available.”
Kabanov shook his head in disgust. What kind of support have you offered up until now. he thought?
“Grazzen is over three hundred kilometres from our current position, general, and we’ll be lucky if the orks haven’t already taken the mountain pass. Just how long do you think we have?”
“It’s impossible to say, Maksim. You’ve got as long as the Thirty-Fifth can hold out against the odds. This is your only way home. You say the bridge at Nhalich is gone. I say Grazzen is your last chance. The DIA will roll more armour up from the south now that you’ve ousted their people from the relay station. Nhalich West will already have put a call out for support on the east bank. Fifth Company should leave at once.”
“Very good, sir. Unless there’s anything—”
“One second, Maksim. I’m not finished. It is vitally important that the prisoner, Brammon Gusseff, remains completely unharmed, likewise, the case that accompanies him. You are to spare nothing in ensuring that both prisoner and case reach Command HQ here in Seddisvarr. This objective is your highest priority and supersedes all other considerations. The life of every last man under your command is secondary to the achievement of this task. I repeat: the prisoner and case are to be delivered intact to Command HQ on Seddisvarr. Is that clear?”
“Sir…”
“These are my orders, Maksim. If there were any other way…” There was a pause before Vlastan said, “You know I’ve always been grateful for—”
The general’s voice was cut off as the entire relay station shook. The walls and ceiling cracked and rained dirt down on the heads of the men in the communications room.
“Artillery,” shouted Sebastev. “They’re hitting us from the far side of the river. Get the khek out of here now! All of you!”
Kabanov felt Sebastev’s powerful grip on his upper arm as the captain hauled him out of his seat and pulled him after the others, just in time. Another artillery shell smashed into the relay station, bringing massive chunks of the shattered roof crashing down on top of the communications console. Kabanov saw enough in the moment he was yanked through the door to know he’d have been crushed where he sat were it not for Sebastev’s reflexes.
The captain still had a grip on Kabanov’s arm as they raced down the stairway followed closely by a thick cloud of choking, grey dust. Lieutenant Kuritsin was descending at the head of the group, shouting to the rest of the soldiers in the building as he went. “Everyone outside now! Assemble on the east side of the building.”
Sebastev and Kabanov hit the bottom of the stairs and raced out into the open air as another artillery round thundered into the building, shaking the ground under their feet. The thick ferrocrete structure collapsed in on itself,
transforming into a vast pile of rubble with a rumble and a great cough of dust and smoke.
“Not Basilisks,” shouted Kabanov over the noise of more shelling.
“No, sir,” replied Sebastev as they ran. “One of their own machines. An Earthshaker would have snuffed us all out with the first shot.”
“I need to know, captain,” said Kabanov, “did we get the prisoner out in time?”
Sebastev grunted. “Look up ahead, sir.”
There, among the Firstborn assembled on the street, Patriot-Captain Brammon Gusseff of the Danikkin Special Patriotic Service stood eyeballing Trooper Aronov. The big scout had his knife pressed to the prisoner’s neck. Kabanov could see the trooper was itching to use it, too.
“No one must hurt him,” said Kabanov as he slowed his pace. “Orders are orders, captain, no matter how damned irregular they are.”
“I know that, sir,” said Sebastev, the distaste plain in his voice. “The prisoner won’t be harmed. I’ll see to it myself.”
Kabanov was quiet as they walked. His body was screaming at him to rest, but there wasn’t time for that. Once Fifth Company was under way, he’d lie down and close his eyes for a while. A mug of hot ohx’ wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
Just before he and Sebastev were within earshot of the other men, he turned to the captain and said, “Thank you for pulling me out of there, Grigorius. Damn this body of mine. I’m trying to hold out as long as I can, but it’s getting harder. Fifth Company must make it through. For the honour of the regiment, you understand.”
Sebastev didn’t meet the colonel’s eye. “For the honour of the regiment, sir,” he said. “But the White Boar is the only man who can see us back to Seddisvarr. You’ve got the Emperor’s work still to do, I tell you. I’ll assist you in any way I can.”
As they rejoined the others, Kabanov said, “Very well. You can start by getting us out of Nhalich.”
CHAPTER TEN
Day 687
Nhalich, East Bank — 15:S8hrs, -21 °C
[Imperial Guard 03] - Rebel Winter Page 16
