by Gav Thorpe
The fighting was brutal and swift, but not entirely to the favour of the Space Marines. By the time the last ork was dead, Apothecary Nestor was already tending to Brother Mandiel, whose right hand had been sheared off by an ork blade. The armour of the others showed numerous cracks, scarred paint and bullet holes as testament to the fury of their foes.
‘Secure the rest of the building,’ said Belial, leaping up the stairs.
There were bodies on the upper floor, and two orks wounded by Belial’s storm bolter fire. They looked up at the Space Marine with beady red eyes, one clutching a ragged hole in its gut, the other trying to heave itself up on its remaining leg.
Belial’s power sword made short work of the crippled greenskins.
Surrounded by calm for a moment, Belial linked in his autosenses to the tactical cogitator in the Rhino outside. The view through his right lens was replaced by a miniature version of the battle map. Minute eye movements scrolled the display, allowing Belial to see what had happened while he had been fighting. With his left eye, he looked through a cracked window pane, confirming what the map was showing.
The other squads were in position, forming a semicircle around the geothermal station and the portal. Battle-cannon craters broke the open ground around the teleporter site, while fires burned in several of the other buildings, smoke drifting lazily on the breeze. The portal was still active though; as Belial watched, it bloomed into life and disgorged a pair of trikes, their heavy weapons opening up on the Space Marines almost immediately. The Predators on the ridge overlooking the landing site returned fire, lascannon shots lancing down to blow up one of the trikes; the other swerved wildly and disappeared into the rocks and gulleys further south.
Belial could not see the whole of the power plant from where he was standing. He moved into the adjoining room. The roof was low and sloping, but a ragged hole gave him a better view. He could see orks moving around the transformer blocks, and on the maze of gantries and ladders above the station, now protected by crudely welded metal sheets and piles of rocks and junk: from his earlier foray when he had stolen the power relay, the orks had learnt the importance of keeping the Space Marines away from their precious energy transmitter.
Charon joined him, stooping beneath the rafters.
‘The battle goes well, brother,’ said the Librarian.
‘Well enough,’ said Belial.
He switched off the tac-display and hailed the other squads.
‘Belial to company. Tactical report by unit. Casualty and supply details.’
In turn, the sergeants reeled off the statistics. As he heard the reports, Belial realised that the swiftness of the assault had been a great success, but not without a price. There was not a squad that was at full strength, and two of the Tactical squads had lost half their number securing the buildings at the centre of the landing site.
He looked again at the power plant, trying to guess the number of orks within. Several hundred, he reckoned, and they seemed more than happy to keep themselves hidden away. The Techmarines’ analysis of whether a Thunderhawk attack was as risky to the geothermal network as orbital bombardment had been inconclusive. Without that support, taking the station would be bloody work indeed. If the Dark Angels tried and failed, they might lack the strength to contain the reinforcements still arriving.
Belial looked at Charon. The snap of bolter fire and crack of lascannons could be heard across the landing site, answered by the rattle of ork guns. The roar of Hephaestus’s Thunderhawk passed overhead accompanied by the sound of heavy bolters.
‘Would it be weakness to change the conditions by which we judge victory?’ the commander asked.
‘It is the nature of war that we must continually revise our expectations and objectives,’ said the Librarian. ‘It would be weakness to affirm victory simply for quiet contentment, but it would be folly to strive for the unachievable and risk what has been gained. What are you considering?’
‘I think that it is a greater duty to contain the orks until Grand Master Azrael arrives with the rest of the Chapter,’ said Belial. ‘It would be hubris to try to destroy them in a vain demonstration of commitment. While we must have the strength to fight alone, we must not forget that we are a brotherhood. We can be proud of what we achieve but cannot allow pride to master us and drive us to act for the sake of reputation alone.’
Belial took a deep breath, looked at the power plant again and opened up the command channel.
‘This is Belial to company. Mission accomplished. Abort phase four. We will not be assaulting the power plant. Maintain positions, fortify defences and destroy any enemy that opportunity presents.’
The landing site belonged to Belial. That was victory enough. All that remained was to keep the orks occupied until the Chapter arrived to sweep them away. If the orks wanted Kadillus, they would have to come and take the landing site back.
The Dark Angels would be waiting.
THE TALE OF TAUNO
Death by Moonlight
The crackle of campfires and the aroma of rehydrated protein stew wafted along the defensive line on Koth Ridge. The grass and dirt had been trampled into a hard mat by hundreds of feet, here and there scarred by the tracks of vehicles. The barricades had been rebuilt following the last ork attack, several of them strengthened by plascrete blocks hauled up from ruined buildings in Kadillus Harbour. Nightfowl screeched and squawked to each other beyond the glow of the fires.
Dumping his pack behind the ration-box barricade, Tauno slumped down beside the fire with a yawn.
‘Don’t get comfy, trooper,’ said Sergeant Kaize. He scribbled something on a scrap of paper and passed it to Tauno as he clambered to his feet. ‘Take this to Lieutenant Laursor.’
‘Yes, sergeant,’ said Tauno before setting off.
‘You’ll need this, moron,’ said Kaize, picking up Tauno’s lasgun and tossing it to him.
He ambled off into the darkness, heading for the tent housing the command squad. The wind was picking up, bringing a chill with it from further up Kadillus Island. Tauno squinted at the notes on the paper, but could make little sense of them. There were some letters and numbers he recognised, and the odd word, but most of it was a meaningless jumble of symbols. It was probably nothing important, he thought, as he crumpled the paper into the pocket of his jacket.
Turning up his collars against the cold, he slung his lasgun over his shoulder by its strap and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets to keep them warm. He heard laughter and chatter from the other squads, arguing over bets, complaining about the poor food or swapping friendly insults. One sergeant with drooping moustaches berated his men for sloppy dress and other acts of slovenliness. Behind the front line, heavy weapon crews dozed next to their guns.
Blinking in the bright light, Tauno ducked under the awning covering the comms equipment given to the company by the Dark Angels. Behind the trestle tables laden with consoles and dials, cables snaked into the darkness to the dish array that the Techmarines had set up for the company commander. The officer, Lieutenant Laursor, sat on a small canvas-seated stool with a comm pick-up in hand. His staff milled around him, as bored as Tauno.
‘…pecting the orks to launch an attack to retake the landing site.’ Tauno recognised Colonel Grautz’s voice coming through the comm speaker. ‘That said, it is possible that the orks will make a last, desperate bid for Kadillus Harbour in an attempt to link up with their forces in the city. If they do, it’s unlikely that they will assault your part of the line, lieutenant, but your company must be ready to provide reinforcements to the officers further to the north.’
‘I understand, colonel,’ said Laursor.
‘Make sure that you do, lieutenant,’ said Grautz. ‘Also be aware that the Astartes can cope with the level of ork reinforcements at their current level, but the enemy cannot be allowed to increase the power to their teleporter. That means ensuring the relay station between Kadillus Harbour and the East Barrens remains out of their hands. That re
lay station is your responsibility, Laursor.’
‘Yes, colonel,’ replied the lieutenant, his voice mustering more enthusiasm than his expression.
‘Let me spell it out for you, lieutenant, in case I have not made my point.’ Laursor rolled his eyes at his command squad, but his expression grew serious at the colonel’s next words. ‘If the orks can establish a power link between three geothermal stations, the Astartes commander has told me that there will be an orbital bombardment of those stations. Even if that does not cause a catastrophic eruption to destroy the island, damage will be extreme.’
Hesitating just underneath the awning, Tauno caught the eye of the staff sergeant and pulled the paper from his pocket. The stocky Piscinan nodded and beckoned Tauno further inside.
‘Patrol report, Sergeant Maikon,’ said Tauno, keeping his voice quiet while Grautz continued to labour his point over the comm. He dropped the scrap of paper into the staff sergeant’s proffered hand. ‘Short version is that we didn’t see nothing, sergeant.’
Tauno rubbed his hands together and blew on his fingertips, darting a glance at a pile of gently steaming meat steaks left on a plate.
‘Sit yourself down for a moment, lad, and grab yourself a bite to eat,’ the sergeant said with a sympathetic smile.
‘Thanks, sergeant,’ said Tauno. He pulled his bayonet from his belt and skewered a lump of half-charred meat and sat down on an empty stool next to the staff sergeant. ‘What is it?’
‘Whitehoof, son,’ said Maikon. ‘The lieutenant shot it himself earlier today. Found a herd of them by the stream just south of here, having a drink just before dusk.’
‘Sergeant Kaize wouldn’t let us shoot nothing on patrol,’ huffed Tauno. He sank his teeth into the steak, juices dribbling down his chin and onto the front of his jerkin.
‘That’s ’cause officers make the rules, son, and last I checked you ain’t an officer,’ said Maikon. His lip curled in distaste. ‘You best clean that off your jacket before you get back, or Sergeant Kaize will have you up on watch duty all night too.’
Tauno looked down at the greasy stain and grimaced.
‘You got a cloth or something, sergeant?’
Maikon puffed out his cheeks and sighed.
‘What’s a useless soldier like you doing in the defence force, son?’
‘Better’n working the omnitrawlers like me pa and grandpa,’ Tauno replied between chews. ‘The recruiting sergeant told me I might even get off-world, see other planets, if the Munitterum come for a tithe.’
‘Mew-nee-tor-umm, son. Departmento Munitorum. They’d take one look at you and ship you off to the Mechanicus to be made into a servitor. That recruiting sergeant must have known you was hauled in on the last net…’
‘It was you, sergeant,’ Tauno said. He gulped down the last of the venison and licked his fingers clean. ‘You were the one that recruited me.’
Maikon laughed and slapped Tauno on the knee.
‘Well, I’m sure I must have seen something in you.’ The staff sergeant glanced across the tent as Lieutenant Laursor ended his conversation with Grautz and tossed the pick-up onto the table. ‘Best get back to your squad, son.’
‘Appreciate it, sergeant,’ Tauno said with a wink.
He slipped out from under the canvas roof and sidled back to his squad’s rough billet. A few of them were already sound asleep, their deep breaths and gentle snores another part of the background noise. Remembering Maikon’s warning, Tauno kept to the shadows until he could pull his guncloth from his pack and wipe away most of the mess on the front of his grey tunic. Approximating something like the appearance of a proper defence trooper, he joined the others, tin mug in hand. He poured himself some nu-char from the pot boiling over the fire and settled down, propping himself up on his pack.
‘So, the Space Marines want to blow up Kadillus if the orks break through,’ he said.
There was a chorus of surprise and dissent from the others.
‘True enough; heard the colonel himself say as much,’ Tauno continued.
‘They would never do it,’ said Lundvir.
‘Sure they would,’ said Sergeant Kaize. ‘What do they really care about us, eh? Letting the orks run wild would be a bad mark against them, don’t matter if a few ordinary folks get killed along the way.’
‘I think I’d rather get blowed up by the Astartes than taken by the orks,’ said Tauno. ‘Least if the island goes, it’ll be quick.’
‘I don’t want to be stuck out here if that’s going to happen,’ said Jurlberg, standing up. ‘I’ve got family in Kadillus Harbour. If this is the end, I’m going back to the city to be with them I love.’
‘You are not going anywhere, trooper,’ said Kaize. ‘You’ll bloody well stay here and guard this bloody ridge. Those are our orders.’
Kauninnen stood up next to Lundvir.
‘Karl’s right, we should be protecting our homes, not stuck out here where nothing’s going to happen.’
‘Sit down, the pair of you,’ growled Kaize. ‘If the lieutenant spots you, it’ll go badly for you.’
‘I’m sure there’s others would come with us,’ said Lundvir. ‘If we get enough of us together, nobody’s going to stop us. We got to warn our families, get them off Kadillus!’
Tauno’s gaze moved back and forth between the two men and the sergeant. Looking past Kaize, he saw pinpricks of red and yellow in the darkness, about a hundred metres away: the glowing eyes of the Space Marines.
‘I think the lieutenant would be the least of your problems if you tries to get away,’ said Tauno, sipping his nu-char. He nodded at the Astartes.
‘It went all right last time,’ said Lundvir. ‘We got away from Barrak Gorge, didn’t we? We told them we managed to retreat at the last moment and nothing was said.’
‘Only because they need us here. And I shouldn’t have listened to you then,’ said Kaize. ‘We’re staying put this time.’
Tauno shared his sergeant’s feelings; abandoning the power plant had probably been a bad idea. It hadn’t seemed such a big deal at the time – there had been plenty of Space Marines to protect the station – but on reflection it left a bitter taste in Tauno’s mouth and an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. This time he was determined that if the orks did come he would stay and fight.
Regardless, they had all agreed not to mention it again.
‘Keep your voice down,’ said Tauno, looking at the Dark Angels. If they discovered the truth of what had happened at Barrak Gorge, there was no telling what they might do. ‘You never know who’s listening.’
Kauninnen followed Tauno’s gaze and laughed harshly.
‘Them? Nah, they can’t hear us.’ With a wordless growl, Kauninnen sat down again. ‘You’re probably right we’ll never get away with it twice.’
‘Just shut up about it,’ said Kaize. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. There’s been patrols all day and night and not an ork’s been seen within ten kilometres. We sit tight here for a couple of days, the rest of the Dark Angels turn up and we can all go home.’
‘It’s all right for them,’ said Kauninnen, voice growing louder with annoyance, still looking at the distant silhouettes of the giant Astartes. ‘Tell you what: give me armour like that and I’d be just as brave.’
‘I know what you mean,’ added Daurin, rolling over on his blanket to look at the men gathered around the fire. He plucked disparagingly at the padded tunic covering his torso. ‘They call this armour? My brothers have hauled in raspwhales with thicker skins than this.’
‘And what about those bolters, eh?’ said Kauninnen. ‘Put a hole the size of your gob in an ork.’ He stabbed a finger at his lasgun leaning against the wall of boxes. ‘These things are junk. Never mind shooting orks, I wouldn’t use one of these to find something in a dark room.’
Tauno laughed, but didn’t really agree with the others. He’d lingered behind for a few minutes at Barrak Gorge and had seen the Space Marines fighting the greenskins. It had been
terrifying, even just watching from a distance; the way they got stuck into those monsters without a moment’s hesitation. Even with armour and a bolter, Tauno was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to go head-to-head with an ork unless he had a two-hundred-metre head start.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ Daurin was saying. ‘I blame the Imperial Commander. If she wants a defence force that can fight orks, we have to have the proper equipment.’
Tauno could see a large figure approaching through the darkness.
‘Shut up,’ Tauno hissed.
‘I mean, it’s all well and good being brave when the enemy can’t hurt you, isn’t it? I bet them Astartes wouldn’t be half as eager to get stuck in if they had this garbage to fight with. What do they care, anyway? They can just leave if they wanted to, while we ain’t got no choice. I mean, if things were starting to get really dangerous, they could just up and go, and leave us to do the dying.’
‘Shut up, Daurin,’ Tauno said between gritted teeth.
‘What’s your problem?’ Daurin asked. ‘They might have magic eyes and ears, and all them sensors and whatnot, but they can’t really hear us all the way over th…’
Daurin trailed off and his eyes widened as he saw the gigantic figure looming through the firelight. Tauno didn’t know much about Space Marines, but he had been around them long enough these last few days to recognise the markings of a sergeant.
The Space Marine’s dark green armour was polished, edged with reflection from the fire. Yellow eye lenses swept over the squad as Sergeant Kaize scrambled to his feet.
‘Can we help you, sir?’ said Kaize.
The Astartes stepped into the emplacement and sat back against the wall, boxes crumpling and settling under his weight.
‘Constant vigilance is the price of survival,’ said the Space Marine. His voice was quiet, edged with the buzz of his helm’s vox system. ‘In thousands of years, an ork had never set foot upon Piscina before ten days ago. Though you cannot see the enemy at this moment, it does not mean they have gone. My commander has reported no significant counter-attack against his forces holding the landing site; that means that the orks are somewhere else.’
