The Purging of Kadillus

by Gav Thorpe

  Staring at the Dreadnought, knowing what he had to do, there was no room for regret or fear in the sergeant’s thoughts. He had sworn an oath to protect the Emperor and his servants, and if that meant giving his life, so be it. There were others that would continue the fight.

  ‘Remember me, Tauno,’ Naaman whispered, activating the melta-bomb’s magnetic clamp.

  He slammed the anti-tank grenade into the fake face of the Dreadnought and pushed himself away. Through the pilot’s eye slits, Naaman saw the ork within stare in amazement at the blinking red rune of the melta-bomb. A second later the grenade detonated, punching through the armour of the Dreadnought with a focussed fusion blast. The driver’s head was incinerated in an instant. A moment later, the Dreadnought’s engine exploded, tearing Naaman to pieces with white-hot fire and serrated fragments of metal.

  Veteran Sergeant Naaman of the Dark Angels died without fear or regret. His last thoughts were of an unremarkable man he had sworn to protect with his life.

  THE TALE OF BOREAS

  Battle at Barrak Gorge

  The roar of the Thunderhawk’s engines and the drone of the wind forced Chaplain Boreas to cut the external sound feed to his helmet as he listened to the company-wide broadcast from Master Belial.

  ‘Through the diligence of Sergeant Naaman of the 10th Company and the industry and bravery of the Scouts and Ravenwing, we are now more aware of the threat to Piscina posed by the orks. The actions of our courageous battle-brothers have not only furnished us with this information, they have struck a blow against the greenskin menace that grants us the time to respond.

  ‘It is my intention that Sergeant Naaman be lauded as a Hero of the Dark Angels when we rejoin with the rest of the Chapter. Even now Sergeant Naaman once more dares the ork lines to bring the bright light of truth upon the enemy’s dark machinations. Until Brother Naaman reports fully, we must assume that the orks will attempt another attack on Koth Ridge with fresh forces. Be vigilant and unstinting in your destruction of the enemy.’

  Boreas muttered his own praise to the heroic Naaman, head bowed. Around him the Space Marines of Squad Zaltys did likewise. A tone signalled a change of comm frequency in Boreas’s ear. He adjusted the Thunderhawk’s unit for the incoming transmission.

  ‘Master Belial to Brother Boreas: stand ready to receive orders. A portion of the orks’ strategy has been revealed to us. It is plain that they possess part of the Kadillus power network and we must assume it is with some as-yet-unknown reason. To what end, Sergeant Naaman is still investigating. However, if the orks desire to hold the East Barrens geothermal station we can be sure it is for some purpose that we should disrupt. It is clear to me now that it is no coincidence that Ghazghkull still controls the Kadillus Harbour power station, but there is a means by which we can neutralise its power output.

  ‘Your pilot is being sent coordinates of a relay station linking Kadillus Harbour to the East Barrens grid. Take possession of the relay and sever the link. Intelligence at this moment suggests the enemy have a weak guard at its location. After completion of this mission, transfer to Barrak Gorge to protect the power plant at the abandoned mine head. Other forces are being despatched to provide protection at several more locations.’

  ‘Understood, brother-captain,’ replied Boreas. ‘What are your assessments of the available forces and enemy threat in the area?’

  ‘Two companies of Piscina defence troops are already en route to Barrak Gorge overland. Take command on your arrival and ensure the station does not fall into the orks’ hands. A Ravenwing land speeder will be despatched to provide reconnaissance and Sergeant Zaltys will accompany you with his squad.’

  There was a pause in the transmission. Boreas glanced across the command deck to the pilot, Brother Demensuis.

  ‘Have you received the mission target coordinates, brother?’

  ‘Affirmative, Brother-Chaplain,’ said Demensuis. ‘Objective is twenty-three kilometres from our current position.’

  ‘Belial to Boreas. It is my conclusion that following the success of the first phase of your mission, the orks will again attempt a breakthrough of Koth Ridge to link up with Ghazghkull’s forces in the city. Estimate of threat to Barrak Gorge is minimal.’

  ‘Understood, brother-captain. Have you received any notification from the rest of the Chapter?’

  ‘Affirmative. Grand Master Azrael has informed me that the fleet is redirecting back from the jump point. We have been fortunate: the rest of our battle-brothers were only six hours from warp jump. They are heading in-system again at this time. It is my intention to curtail the ork threat until their arrival and then wipe them from Kadillus with the aid of the other companies. It is imperative the ork forces remain divided and that they are denied the energy supply they seem to be seeking.’

  ‘I understand, brother. We will cage these beasts and exterminate them. Praise the Lion and honour the Emperor.’

  ‘For the glory of lost Caliban,’ said Belial before the link went dead.

  Boreas hung the handset on the console and turned to the ten Space Marines sitting along the benches lining the Thunderhawk’s main compartment.

  ‘We have a seize-and-secure mission, brothers,’ the Chaplain told them. ‘Expect light resistance. Suggestions for a plan of attack, brother-sergeant?’

  Zaltys pulled down a hinged digital display from overhead and studied the schematic of the objective for a moment. He smiled at Boreas.

  ‘Gunship attack run followed by direct aerial insertion by jump pack, Brother-Chaplain.’

  ‘Very well, sergeant,’ Boreas said with a nod. ‘Prepare your squad. I will provide observation and coordination from the command deck.’

  ‘Two minutes until we are on-site at the objective, brothers,’ Demensuis announced. ‘Approach at fifty metres for attack run and aerial deployment. Weapon systems set to machine-spirit control. Praise the unthinking mind that brings the ruin of our enemies.’

  While Boreas returned to his position on the command deck, Zaltys and his warriors readied themselves for the assault. The squad geared themselves with bolt pistols, plasma pistols, chainswords, power swords and grenades from the weapons lockers; the sergeant replaced his regular armoured gauntlet with a bulky power fist and took a hand flamer from the underfoot storage bay. Armed, they helped each other into their assault harnesses, attaching the large turbo-fan jump packs to the spinal interfaces of their armour. The hull reverberated with the whine of the fans as each Space Marine tested his pack.

  ‘Thirty seconds until attack run commences,’ warned Demensuis. ‘Swift shall be our anger, deadly shall be our strike.’

  The lights inside the Thunderhawk dimmed to a dull red. In front of Boreas, the armoured canopy darkened to grey. In the distance he could see the squat structure of the energy relay post. Automatic surveyors were sweeping the ground ahead of the diving Thunderhawk. Red reticules sprang up in the cockpit display, hovering over detected foes. Boreas counted twenty-eight.

  Flashes of gunfire sparkled from the relay post’s roof as the orks opened fire on the incoming gunship. Bullets whizzed past and bounced harmlessly from the armourplas windshield.

  ‘Machine-spirits awakened. Targets set. Commencing attack run.’

  ‘Faith is our shield, righteousness our sword!’ declared Boreas as the Thunderhawk echoed with the whine of powering weapon systems.

  The gunship shuddered as the dorsal battle cannon opened fire, sending a shell directly into the roof of the relay building. The explosion sent bodies and rockcrete shards flying a hundred metres into the air.

  At another command, two hellstrike missiles roared away from the gunship’s wings on burning trails. The missiles jinked and swerved, their artificial brains tracking the orks as they fled in all directions seeking cover. The first detonated a few dozen metres short of the compound, turning a buggy into flaming debris. The second banked left, following a group of orks heading for an irrigation ditch. It exploded as they reached cover, tossing their
bodies across the grassland.

  The battle cannon fired again as heavy bolters added their fury to the onslaught, stitching lines of detonations across the rockcrete ground of the compound. The battle cannon shell smashed into a small metal-roofed guardhouse, blowing it apart from the inside.

  Heavy bolters swivelling to keep track of the dispersing orks, the Thunderhawk roared over the relay station.

  ‘Prepare for disembarkation,’ said Demensuis. ‘Brace for deployment manoeuvre.’

  The pilot cut the main plasma engines and hit the retro-jets. Inertia dragged Boreas sideways as the Thunderhawk rapidly slowed and banked heavily to the left, heavy bolters still firing at targets on the ground. Daylight flooded the main compartment as the prow assault ramp dropped down.

  ‘Launch assault!’ cried Zaltys. ‘Show no mercy!’

  The Assault Marines bounded down the ramp, jump packs flaring. In pairs they threw themselves from the gunship’s open prow. Boreas tracked their descent on the external pict-feeds, watching the ten Space Marines plunge to the ground, their jump packs slowing their descent. With impacts that would have shattered the bones of lesser warriors, Zaltys’s squad landed in the compound, ferrocrete cracking beneath their booted feet. The Assault Marines opened fire immediately, gunning down survivors from the gunship’s attack.

  ‘Taking up support circuit,’ Demensuis said as the assault ramp whined shut and the plasma engines roared back into life.

  The whole attack run and deployment had taken thirty-five seconds.

  ‘Switch battle cannon control to my station, brother,’ Boreas told the pilot.

  The screens in front of the Chaplain changed, showing him the view from the Thunderhawk’s main weapon system. A smaller display to the right contained a thermal scan of the area, the hot bodies of the orks showing up bright white against the fuzzy grey of the ground; to the left another screen contained a wireframe topographical display of the compound and the contours of the surrounding grassland.

  ‘Combat squad split, brother-sergeant,’ Boreas told Zaltys, analysing the data on the screens. ‘Priority objectives: enemy field gun emplaced three hundred metres south of the compound gate; twenty-plus infantry using the cover of a pipeline one hundred and fifty metres south-east.’

  ‘Confirm, Brother-Chaplain,’ replied Zaltys. ‘Suppression fire required to cover advance.’

  ‘Confirm, brother-sergeant,’ said Boreas.

  Boreas’s gauntleted fingers danced over the sturdy keys of the control panel, locking the battle cannon’s aim on the long-barrelled artillery piece the orks had hidden alongside the road to the relay station. They had heaped up mounds of earth as a basic emplacement, the muzzle of their weapon poking out from a covering of branches and leaves. Had the Dark Angels approached on the ground, the gun would have taken a significant toll.

  The Chaplain pressed the fire rune and the gunship shuddered from the recoil. On the display, the emplacement was engulfed with a cloud of fire and dirt. Although the explosion was ferocious, the shot had only damaged the earthworks protecting the field gun. Despite the lack of direct damage, Boreas had done what was required: Zaltys and half of his squad were already halfway down the road, bounding towards the ork position with long leaps powered by their jump packs.

  Boreas switched the pict-feed as the gunship circled around the compound. The other combat squad was already fighting with the ork infantry to the south-east, exchanging pistol fire as they closed in. The Chaplain watched as the orks surged out of their cover to meet the Assault Marines head-on. Boreas knew that it was crude instinct rather than bravery that had spurred the orks to make the counter-attack, their hunger for fighting overwhelming whatever rudiments of common sense the greenskins might possess. The result was inevitable as the Space Marines fell upon their foes with pistols and blades, cutting them down in a few seconds of frenzied activity.

  ‘Heat signal detected to the north-west, brothers,’ said Demensuis. ‘Incoming ork transports.’

  Boreas changed the view again and saw two open-backed trucks speeding through the high grass from a rough camp half a kilometre from the relay post. The Chaplain heard the distinctive thump of melta-bombs over the comm.

  ‘Ork gun destroyed,’ Zaltys reported. ‘Advancing to relay building.’

  ‘Switch controls to anti-personnel array,’ Boreas said to Demensuis. ‘Bring us in over those transports.’

  While the pilot turned the Thunderhawk with his right hand, his left activated the manual controls of the gunship’s four twin-linked heavy bolters. The main view in front of Boreas changed again, a targeting matrix reticule dancing across the undulations of the ground below.

  ‘Reducing speed for strafing run,’ announced Demensuis.

  The Thunderhawk tilted to the right for a few seconds and straightened, bringing it onto a course heading directly towards the approaching transports.

  ‘Opening fire,’ said Boreas as he locked the heavy bolter’s tracking sights on the lead truck.

  Flares of dozens of bolts burned through the air, the fire of eight heavy bolters converging on the ork transport. Tyres burst and the engine exploded, sending the vehicle’s bonnet crashing through its low windshield, while the torrent of bolts tore along the truck’s length, into the open back of the vehicle, gunning down the orks on board. The front axle snapped, turning the crashing truck’s momentum into a somersault that sent it tumbling down a slope trailing burning shrapnel and oil.

  ‘Target destroyed,’ Boreas said calmly. ‘Terminus excelsis.’

  The following truck veered wildly to its left, bumping over a low ridge of ground as Boreas’s next salvo ripped furrows through the soil of Kadillus. The transport turned sharply again as Boreas adjusted his line of fire, the sudden change of direction sending two of the orks aboard spinning over the side. Next to the driver, the gunner angled his gun up towards the Thunderhawk, bullets spraying wildly past the gunship.

  ‘Bring us over the transport, ten metres clearance,’ Boreas told his pilot.

  ‘Affirmative, Brother-Chaplain,’ replied Demensuis.

  Boreas lifted himself from his seat and headed back into the main bay as Demensuis wrestled at the controls, matching the erratic evasion moves of the driver below. Swaying to compensate for the dipping and turning of the gunship, the Chaplain strode out onto the assault ramp and hit the activation rune.

  ‘Brother-Chaplain?’ Demensuis’s voice was shocked.

  ‘Keep us level, increase speed by five per cent,’ Boreas said, ignoring his battle-brother’s concern. As the ramp opened the wind whistled into the Thunderhawk and set Boreas’s robe madly flapping. The ground screamed past just a few metres below him, while ahead the ork truck swerved again in its attempt to outrun the Space Marines.

  ‘Three degrees starboard, move to intercept.’

  ‘Affirm, Brother-Chaplain.’

  The view lurched again as Demensuis made the necessary adjustment.

  The Thunderhawk was closing quickly on the ork vehicle. The driver had abandoned any attempt to get to the relay compound and was now simply trying to elude the massive gunship roaring down upon them. The gunner could not swivel its weapon to bear and so pulled a pistol from its armoured cabin and began to fire at the aircraft in futile defiance.

  Plasma jets roaring, the Thunderhawk swooped over the truck. Snatching his crozius from his belt, Boreas leapt from the ramp. The Chaplain plummeted the few metres to the truck, arms braced across his chest. His armoured boots impacted with the truck’s engine block, smashing the front of the vehicle into the ground. The transport flipped over, tossing the orks in all directions as Boreas was flung along the ground, his backpack carving a wide furrow through the soft dirt.

  After twenty or thirty metres, Boreas and the truck came to a stop. Checking his suit’s systems and finding them to be operating at acceptable levels, the Chaplain stood up, throwing aside the wreckage of the truck. Around him, dazed orks were pushing themselves to their feet. Choosing to conserve
ammunition in case he needed it at Barrak Gorge, Boreas sprinted into the orks, smashing them from their feet with the blazing head of his crozius. Two of the stunned greenskins mustered enough sense to put up a fight, but were no match for the Chaplain. He broke their limbs and dashed in their skulls without hesitation. Others were crushed beneath his boots as they lay wounded and growling in the grass.

  ‘Do you wish to embark, brother?’ Demensuis asked as the gunship slowed and circled above the Chaplain.

  Boreas guessed the distance to the relay to be less than a kilometre.

  ‘Negative, brother,’ he replied. ‘Land at the compound. Help Sergeant Zaltys unload the phase-field generator from the heavy equipment store. We will need it to access the subterranean cables beneath the relay station.’

  ‘Affirmative, brother. Enjoy the walk.’

  Boreas was about to rebuke Demensuis for his facetiousness but stopped himself before he said anything. The Chaplain looked at the broken ork bodies and the smoking wreck of the truck and wondered why he had chosen such a direct approach rather than continue engaging the enemy with the heavy bolters. It seemed that Demensuis was not the only victim of unnecessary exuberance at the moment. Naaman’s exploits had been a glorious example to all of the Space Marines, challenging them to match his heroic feat.

  The walk back to the compound would give Boreas some time to calm down and contemplate his foolhardy action.

  The jets of the Thunderhawk kicked up a swirl of dust across the compound as the gunship lifted into the air. Boreas checked the chronometer display: three and a half minutes until detonation. Using the phase-field generator, Demensuis had burrowed a hole beneath the generator bunker and placed a fusion charge on the cables linking the East Barrens to Kadillus Harbour. If the Techmarine’s assumptions were correct, this would simply sever the link without feedback through the whole grid.

  The bewildering plethora of gauges and pipes, consoles and switchboxes had been utterly alien to Boreas, but he had faith in Demensuis’s abilities. While Boreas had learned the Calibanite Legacy and the Hymnals of Fortitude, Demensuis had studied the mysteries of the Machine and the ways to appease its spirit.