“What’s wrong, captain?” asked Commissar Karif. He lent his strength to the effort, but the lever simply bent a little more. “I hope to Terra the damn thing isn’t welded shut on us. Does anyone know exactly where on this door the locking bolts are?”
Lieutenant Maro stepped forward. “There are two, commissar,” he said, “here and here. Both are well shielded and made of titanium. If you’re thinking of blowing your way out, I would remind you that any type of blast will almost certainly kill most, if not all of us.”
“I was hardly suggesting that, lieutenant,” said the commissar sourly. “I’m not entirely sure that my chainsword could manage the task, but couldn’t a power sabre slice through the bolts? Would anyone care to try, or are we to sit in this metal coffin until the orks cut us out?”
Sebastev immediately drew his power sabre and hit the activation rune on its hilt. The blade hummed to life, glowing and crackling with dangerous energy.
“Move back, gentlemen,” he said as he pressed the point of the blade to the seam where the hatch met the frame of the Chimera and pushed forward. The machine-spirit of the power sabre protested, changing its hum to an angry buzz as it slowly carved a path through the thick metal. Smoke drifted up and sparks showered the toes of Sebastev’s boots.
“May the machine-spirit of this great vehicle forgive us,” said Lieutenant Kuritsin.
After a few moments, Sebastev lurched forward suddenly. His blade had punched straight through to the outside of the vehicle, severing the first of the bolts. The sword gave a last loud crack as the charge cell in its hilt died.
“That’s one of the bolts cut,” he said. “I’ll have to swap cells before I tackle the other.”
“Here,” said Lieutenant Maro, “let me take care of the last one.” He stepped forward with his own blade drawn, hit the activation rune, and began carving his way through.
Sebastev moved back and switched the cell in his sword. Maro gave a triumphant laugh a few moments later as his blade sliced through to the far side of the hatch. The last bolt was severed. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. He pushed the hatch open and climbed out.
As Sebastev followed, he saw that the remnants of Fifth Company had taken up defensive positions around the colonel’s ruined Chimera. The crump of artillery echoed down the street. The fighting sounded heavy in the north of the city. Sergeant Basch and Lieutenant Tarkarov stepped forward to greet him. Father Olov, standing with men from Second Platoon, smiled over at him with obvious relief and bowed his head in thanks to the Emperor.
“Good to see you’re all right, captain,” said Tarkarov. “We considered using one of the melta-guns as a last resort, but it might have cooked you all. How is the colonel?”
Sebastev turned to see Colonel Kabanov clamber out from the hatch. Maro had made sure there was no trace of blood on the colonel’s face, but his clothes still bore telltale stains.
“The colonel is… fine,” said Sebastev. “He’s eager to get us over that bridge. What’s our status?”
Commissar Karif moved past them, calling for his adjutant. Trooper Stavin had been riding in the last Pathcutter with most of the other troopers. Now he dashed forward to stand before his commissar, relief plain on his face.
Lieutenant Tarkarov dropped his gaze as he said, “One of the Chimeras didn’t make it through, sir.” His voice was heavy with sorrow, close to breaking as he added, “It’s Fifth Platoon, sir.”
Lieutenant Kuritsin’s voice sounded from over Sebastev’s shoulder. “Captain,” he said, “Lieutenant Severin is asking to speak with your, sir. He… he doesn’t have long. Vox-channel delta.”
Sebastev keyed the appropriate channel and said, “This is Captain Sebastev. What the hell is going on, Severin?”
Severin’s voice, when it came, was strangled as if he fought back screams of agony. “Caught on wreckage, sir,” he voxed, “tracks mangled. We’re really cooking in here.”
“Emperor above,” roared Sebastev at the lieutenants standing close by. “We’ve got to get those men out of there!”
“We’re in deep, sir,” voxed Severin, “pulling pins now. Grenades will be quicker. Make it easier on the… just wanted to tell you, sir…”
“Severin!” shouted Sebastev over the vox.
“And Colonel Kabanov… honour to serve…”
“Severin! Throne damn it, man!”
There was no answer. A muffled boom sounded from somewhere within the wall of flames. The vox at Severin’s end went dead. Sebastev roared into the air.
That’s no way for heroes to die, he raged to himself. Grey Lady, grant me dire vengeance on the orks. By the Golden Throne, I’ll visit such a slaughter on them…
All around, the men of Fifth Company shifted uncomfortably. They’d heard Sebastev’s half of the voxed exchange. With the absence of Severin’s Chimera, it wasn’t hard to work out what had happened. There were troopers among them who belonged to Severin’s platoon. They’d come across the flames in the Pathcutter transport with most of the others. As the full weight of the situation struck them, they looked ready to drop. Sebastev knew how they felt.
That was when Colonel Kabanov stepped up to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Focus, captain,” he said quietly. “Remember what I told you: the time for mourning comes after the battle. We have to get across that bridge. Time’s running out on us. Don’t let the sacrifices of brave men go to waste.”
The colonel stepped forward and addressed the men. “Stand strong, Fifth Company. We’ve got a hard fight ahead of us. I want you organised into squads at once and ready to move out on my command. We’ve got a mission to complete for the honour of the regiment.”
As the men jumped to it, the colonel returned to Sebastev’s side and ushered Captain Chelnikov forward. “How far from here, captain?” he asked.
“Half an hour if we double time it, sir,” replied Chelnikov, “much more if we meet resistance. And trust me, sir, we will meet resistance.”
“The way I’m feeling,” growled Sebastev, “I hope we do. I’ll soak my hands in ork blood before we’re done, Throne help me.”
Colonel Kabanov shook his head. “We all feel the same, captain, but it’s a feeling you’ll just have to get a damned grip on. Our sole objective is to deliver Gusseff. This regiment’s revenge will not interfere. My word is law on the subject. Make sure you understand it well.”
Sebastev held the colonel’s blistering gaze as he nodded.
“Good,” said Colonel Kabanov. “Are all our men assembled? This is it?”
“This is it, sir,” said Lieutenant Kuritsin. “We’ve got sixty-three men, excluding the wounded on the top deck of the Pathcutter and the survivors of Captain Chelnikov’s squad.”
“Sixty-three,” replied the colonel. “By Terra, let’s not lose any more.” Though the bloodstains were bright on his golden armour and the collar of his greatcoat, he seemed to have regained control of his breathing. His coughing had stopped for the moment. “And the vehicles, lieutenant? The Chimeras?”
Kuritsin shook his head. The heat caused irreparable damage to their treads. Ours is the only one that suffered a fuel tank incident, but the others are practically fused to the road. The Pathcutter is still operational, but it suffered heavy damage. It can manage little more than a crawl. Its width restricts it to travelling the open highway. We’ll be much faster on foot, but that doesn’t help our wounded.”
“By the saints, that’s grim,” sighed the colonel. “We need all the speed we can get. I want all able-bodied men moving forward on foot. We can’t slow ourselves down. The Pathcutter will just have to lag behind. If we reach the bridge and get the traitor across, perhaps there’ll be time to hold the crossing open for our wounded. It doesn’t give them much hope, I know, but I’d say it’s the best we can do for them. Captain Chelnikov, follow Lieutenant Tarkarov over to First Platoon and guide them out, please. The others will follow.”
“At once, sir,” said Chelnikov.
As
the other officers moved off, the colonel shot out a hand and stopped Sebastev. “Listen to me, Grigorius,” he said in a low voice. “Keep it together. Do you understand me? I know you’re eager to punish the orks, but the mission comes first. You need to understand that. You’ll be in full command soon.”
“I’ll do what’s needed, colonel,” said Sebastev. “Let’s just get you to Seddisvarr, so the medicae can restore you. If you need me to step in for a while, that’s fine, but it’ll be temporary, I assure you.”
Kabanov shook his head. “You never change, do you, Grigorius? I guess that’s why Dubrin chose you: stubborn to a bloody fault.”
Before Sebastev could respond, the colonel moved off, calling for his adjutant to get the rebel prisoner up off his knees and marching alongside the others.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Day 688
East Grazzen — 15:02hrs, -21 °C
The surviving men of Fifth Company crouched in the lee of a crumbling hab-stack, checking their weapons, and fixing bayonets to their lasgun barrels in preparation for the imminent order to push forward. An icy wind whipped along the street, tugging at their tall hats and the tails of their red greatcoats. Captain Sebastev peered out from behind a pile of rubble that had once been the building’s south-east corner and scanned the road ahead. He’d never seen so many orks in his life. The streets were absolutely teeming with them, an impossible press of massive green bodies waving every conceivable type of blade or blunt weapon in the air. Tattered banners bearing the Venomhead clan crest whipped in the icy winds. Many of the largest orks wore trophies from their victory at Barahn: grisly necklaces made of human skulls that seemed impossibly small compared with the heads of the monsters that wore them. Some of the largest orks boasted bulky augmetic limbs that ended in spinning blades or gleaming pincers. The roaring and jabbering of the terrible horde threatened to drown out all but the loudest sounds of Vostroyan artillery and gunfire.
Captain Chelnikov had led Fifth Company up through the streets, heading north-east towards the bridge with all due haste, but the closer they got to their goal, the harder it became to move without drawing unwanted attention. So far, they’d been lucky. Ork aggression was utterly focused on the enemy directly in front of them. The men and machines of the Thirty-Fifth Regiment bore the brunt of the ork attack with bravery and resilience, but they wouldn’t last much longer. They were being pressed back further and further with little hope of slowing the orks’ forward momentum.
If Fifth Company hoped to gain the bridge before the orks forced its destruction, they’d have to break through the enemy lines from the rear and move ahead of the greenskin advance, and they’d have to do it soon.
As his men crouched in positions of hard cover, Colonel Kabanov moved forward to consult with Sebastev. “This is it, captain. We have their backs. If we can break through the line up ahead, we’ve got a solid shot at making the bridge in time to cross.”
“I can’t advocate a simple charge, colonel,” said Sebastev. “The moment they notice us, all the orks in the vicinity will turn to engage. They always fixate on the nearest target.”
“There must be thousands of them,” said Lieutenant Kuritsin. “If I can raise a nearby Basilisk on the vox, perhaps I can arrange some kind of artillery support. That would go a long way to clearing our path. Captain Chelnikov might be able to help with that.”
“It’s worth a try, lieutenant,” said Colonel Kabanov. “Grab Chelnikov and get to work. He’s with Lieutenant Tarkarov’s men. As for you, Sebastev, I want you to recommend a man to take responsibility for the prisoner. It may be that none of us get through the ork lines alive, but if even the slightest gap opens up, I want our prisoner rushed through it and carried over that bridge. If you’ve got a fast man that you trust, make him known to me now. Lieutenant Maro will continue to look after the traitor’s case.”
Sebastev didn’t have to think on it for long. There, by the far corner of the building, talking quietly with Sergeant Basch, was the man he had in mind.
“That would be Aronov, sir,” Sebastev said with a nod towards the big scout. “He’s particularly capable.”
The colonel voxed a summons over to Aronov, and the scout jogged over to their position. After a smart salute, he crouched beside his superior officers. “What can I do for you, sirs?”
“The captain here has rather good things to say about you, trooper,” said the colonel. “He seems to think you might be the man for certain special duties.”
Aronov grinned. “The captain’s a famous liar, sir.”
Colonel Kabanov grinned back. “Is he, indeed? Well, he’d better not be lying this time, because I’m about to give you a very important job. This is absolutely top priority, trooper. I need you to guard the Danikkin prisoner. If you see an opening in the ork lines during the fighting, I want you to take the prisoner and run for the bridge. This man,” the colonel indicated Gusseff with a thumb, “must make it to the west side of Grazzen. We’re talking about duty and honour here, trooper, not just that of Fifth Company’s, but of the entire regiment. Are we clear?”
Aronov nodded. “Like good rahzvod, sir. How much trouble is he likely to be? Is he suicidal? Will he try to run during the fighting?”
It was Sebastev who answered. “He’s been strangely compliant since leaving Nhalich. I don’t think he wants to die. So, no, I don’t expect him to give you trouble. You can knock him out and carry him if you think it necessary, but no broken bones and no permanent damage.”
“You take all the fun out of life, sir.”
“I know I do, trooper,” replied Sebastev, “it’s in my job description. Now grab the prisoner and get ready. We’ll be push—”
Vox-chatter cut Sebastev off mid-sentence. It was Commissar Karif. “By the Throne! We’ve been spotted. Ork warbikes coming in from the east at high speed. Get to cover, damn it. I need heavy weapons over here, now! Colonel Kabanov, Squad Grodolkin is under heavy fire. The orks on the street ahead are turning, sir. They’ve noticed us.”
The commissar had attached himself to Squad Grodolkin and taken up position guarding the company’s east flank. The sound of ork stubbers came from that direction.
“Don’t get cut off from the rest of the company, commissar,” voxed Colonel Kabanov urgently. “Move this way. We have to hold together.”
“It’s too late, sir,” voxed Commissar Karif. “My squad is pinned down. The orks are spilling down the streets on either side. Wait! I think I see a way out, sir. I’m going to try something.”
“What are you going to do?” voxed Sebastev. “Commissar?”
There was no answer.
“Warp damn and blast,” spat Colonel Kabanov, “we’ve lost him.”
“Squad Grodolkin, respond,” voxed Sebastev. “Anyone from Squad Grodolkin, respond at once.”
Again, there was no answer.
“Khek! It’ll be a matter of seconds before those orks come round that corner, colonel. We fight or die.” Sebastev pulled his bolt pistol from its holster and drew his power sabre from its sheath. “Rits,” he shouted, “where’s the damned artillery barrage?”
Kuritsin looked over. Captain Chelnikov was busy talking into the lieutenant’s back-mounted vox-caster. “All the Thirty-Fifth’s vox-channels are choked with traffic, sir. We’re having trouble getting through to anyone. Captain Chelnikov is trying the command channel, but the weather is cutting our range.”
Orks appeared on the road that ran east, just a score of them at first, boots pounding the black rockcrete as they raced towards Fifth Company with their cleavers held high. Then, behind them, hundreds more spilled out onto the road from the adjoining streets.
“Engage the enemy!” bellowed Colonel Kabanov, standing to unsheathe his own power sabre. In his right hand, his hellpistol cracked and an ork at the front of the charge tumbled to the ground, headless. “Try to press north. Don’t be drawn away from our objective. We must gain the bridge at all costs!”
“For the White
Boar!” added Sebastev. His men lifted their weapons into the air and roared. Then Fifth Company broke from cover, rushing north up the street to meet the massed orks. The enemy on their east flank came straight on, and soon Fifth Company was surrounded, fighting desperately for their lives in a sea of massive green bodies.
To Sebastev, this looked like it might be the end of them.
But it’s not over yet, he told himself. If we fall here, we’ll sell our lives dear, by Terra. Maybe, just maybe, we can open a path for Aronov and the bastard rebel.
As the orks charged down the street, Karif looked around desperately for the best position of hard cover he could find. Instead, he spotted a dark crevasse in the road, a tear in the rockcrete surface that had probably been caused by a Vostroyan Earthshaker round during the Thirty-Fifth Regiment’s attempted defence of the town. The impact on the street had punched a hole straight through to the sewers beneath. Inky blackness had never looked so appealing to Karif.
“Sergeant Grodolkin,” he shouted. “We’re going down that hole at once. Choose three men to cover the descent of the others.”
So Grodolkin had chosen, quickly and calmly, and three men had stayed above, fighting to their last breaths so that the rest of their squad could escape into the sewers.
The orks hadn’t followed. In part, Karif was relieved, but he was also concerned. It suggested to him that they’d spotted Colonel Kabanov and the rest of the company and had opted to engage them instead. He offered a quick prayer for the safety of those men as he led Squad Grodolkin along the tunnel, trusting his instincts, secure in the knowledge that his training on Terrax had prepared him for almost anything.
He tried his vox-bead again, but communication with the other squads had been lost the moment he’d leapt into the hole.
[Imperial Guard 03] - Rebel Winter Page 21
