Hero of the Imperium, page 16
Donali finally contacted us about an hour after noon, saying the tau weren’t exactly happy at the prospect of Imperial Guard units running rampant in the city, but so long as I was there to keep an eye on things and we stuck to the plan they’d been shown, they’d let us get on with it without interference. Of course, the language was a bit more diplomatic than that, but you get the gist. I was also aware of the subtext, even before Donali helpfully spelled it out for me, that if they got so much as a sniff of treachery they’d be on our backs with guns blazing before you could say ‘fubar’.
So as you can imagine, I was feeling somewhat under pressure as the force of which I was titular head left our compound and entered the city, so much so that I wasn’t even able to enjoy the unique position I found myself in.29
As I said before, I’d had the sense to let Kasteen and Broklaw make the tactical decisions, as their experience of city fighting was rather more practical than mine, so I was pretty confident we had the right mix of resources to achieve our goal. Reasoning that the ground would be pretty chewed up by the time the artillery had finished (which I could attest to from personal experience after my time with the 12th), they’d suggested going in on foot, with a troop of Sentinels for heavy fire support. That sounded good to me, as the walkers would have a devastating psychological effect on the shell-shocked survivors of the barrage, or, at least, I hoped so. Taking the Chimeras in close was right out, their tracks would be shredded in moments once they entered the rubble, but if they held back on the perimeter after debarking their troopers, their heavy bolters would certainly encourage any rebels still inclined to make a fight of it to keep their heads down.
We’d debated about bringing in an armoured unit too, but decided against it. A couple of Leman Russes would have made little difference against dug-in infantry, especially after Mostrue’s Earthshakers had finished doing their stuff. And it would have meant bringing another regiment into the operation. Given the delicacy of the situation, I wanted to keep the opportunities for fouling things up to a minimum, and my paranoia was tingling again, warning me not to spread our plans any further than we needed to. Besides, tanks would have slowed us down, and the key to this operation was speed. Especially if I wanted it to be all but over by the time I arrived.
‘The harder and faster you go in, the better,’ I concluded my briefing speech, breaking off to glare at Sulla, who’d whispered something to her neighbour and giggled. ‘Are there any questions?’
There weren’t, which meant the plan was either brilliant or so fatally flawed no one could spot it, so I made one of the standard encouraging speeches I’d been trotting out by rote since the head of my old scholar had presented me with my scarlet sash and told me to get lost, and dismissed the sergeants and officers who started to trickle back to their squads. I caught Lustig’s eye, and he grinned at me. I’d made sure his squad were assigned to the centre of the battle line, as I thought getting stuck into a proper stand-up fight would be good for their morale. Gunning down the PDF loyalists had left a sour taste in their mouths, I knew, although they were good enough soldiers to have appreciated the reasons for it. A couple had been to talk to the chaplain, but all in all, they’d held up remarkably well. I knew if they were left with time to brood on it, though, their morale might start to suffer, so it had seemed prudent to take steps quickly before the rot had a chance to spread.
‘I take it you approve, sergeant,’ I said. One of the most important things I’d found over the years, and which I try to instil in my cadets these days, is that you should always take the time to talk to the troopers as individuals. You’ll never make friends of them, except possibly a couple of the officers if you’re lucky, and you’ll never get the job done if you try, but they’ll follow you a damn sight more readily if they think you care about them. And what’s far more important, at least to me, is that, if they start to think of you as one of their own, they’ll watch your back when the shooting starts. I’ve lost count of the number of times one of the grunts around me has taken out a xeno or a traitor who would have put a round in my back before I even noticed them, and I’ve returned the favour, too, which is why I’m well into my second century while the graveyards are full of by-the-book commissars who relied on intimidation to get the job done.
‘It’s a good plan, sir.’ Lustig nodded. ‘My boys and girls won’t let you down.’
‘I’m sure of that,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t have asked for them otherwise.’ A faint flush of pride worked its way up past his jaw line.
‘I’ll tell them you said that, sir.’
‘Please do.’ I returned his salute, and looked around for Jurgen as Lustig strode off, his shoulders set. There shouldn’t be any morale problems with his squad now, I thought. My aide was nowhere to be seen, so I walked towards the door, past the row of chairs where more than a dozen officers and noncoms had been sitting a few moments before. If I knew Jurgen, he’d be in the vehicle park, conscientiously checking over our Salamander.
‘Commissar.’ I turned, momentarily startled by the voice at my elbow. Sulla was still seated, her face flushed with uncharacteristic nervousness. She juggled the briefing slate in her lap.
‘You have a question, lieutenant?’ I asked, keeping my voice neutral. She nodded rapidly, swallowing a couple of times.
‘Not exactly. Sort of...’ She stood, the top of her head level with my eyes, and tilted it back slightly to speak directly to me. ‘I just wanted to say...’ She hesitated again, then blurted it out in a rush. ‘I know you haven’t formed a very high opinion of me since you joined us, but I appreciate you giving me a chance. You won’t regret it, I promise you.’
‘I’m sure I won’t.’ I smiled, a warm expression calculated to boost her confidence. ‘Your platoon was my first choice for this mission, because I know they can get the job done.’ In truth, it was Lustig’s squad I wanted, for the reasons I’ve already gone into, and the rest of the platoon just came along with them. But she didn’t have to know that. ‘Integrating the two old regiments into a new unit has been tough on everyone, especially those of you who were thrust into positions of responsibility you weren’t prepared for. I think you’ve coped admirably.’
‘Thank you, commissar.’ She coloured visibly, and trotted out with a slightly uncoordinated salute.
Well, that was an unexpected bonus. If I was any judge, she’d be so keen to justify my non-existent confidence in her that she wouldn’t be making any more trouble, at least for a while. Despite the prospect of imminent combat, there was a definite spring in my step as I went to find Jurgen.
The first part of the plan went like clockwork. We formed up in the main vehicle park, two full platoons, which I thought would be enough for the job, plus the Sentinels, which hissed and clanked their way over the rockcrete to join us like vast robotic chickens. And if you think they look ungainly, try hitching a lift on one some time. I’ve been in boats in a storm and felt less motion sick. Mind you, when the alternative is being ripped apart by orks, I’ll take an upset stomach any time. If you think that sounds a little on the puny side, remember the xenoists only numbered about a dozen squads themselves, so we had them pretty well outnumbered even so, and given the delicacy of the diplomatic situation, I didn’t want to go in with any more troopers than we needed. Besides, I was counting on the artillery barrage to take most of them out, so the firepower we had seemed more than enough for mopping up with.
And before you ask, yes, I suppose dropping shells on a part of the city we’d been sent to protect did seem a little paradoxical to us at the time, but it was all a question of expediency. To my way of thinking, anyone still in the target area was there by choice, and any civilians who hadn’t fled were either traitors themselves or so stupid we were doing future generations a favour by removing them from the gene pool.
I mounted the command Salamander Jurgen had procured and looked out over our expeditionary force, feeling a surge of pride in spite of my obvious trepidation. The infantry squads were mounted in Chimeras, the two platoon command ones standing out from the rest by virtue of the vox antennae that clustered their upper surfaces. Sulla’s head and shoulders protruded from the top hatch of hers, a pair of earphones protecting her from the engine noise. Seeing me look in her direction, she raised the mic in her hand.
‘Third Platoon ready,’ she reported.
‘Fifth Platoon ready.’ Her opposite number, Lieutenant Faril, echoed her words. A dogged, somewhat unimaginative commander, he none-the-less had the respect and confidence of his troopers, largely due to a dry sense of humour and an earnest concern for their welfare, which meant he was unlikely to press too hard if they ran into stiff resistance. I’d selected him precisely because of this, knowing he’d wait for the Sentinels to back him up if things got sticky instead of throwing his troopers lives away taking stupid risks. Some casualties were inevitable, of course, but I wanted to keep them to a minimum. If the regiment’s first clash of arms resulted in an easy victory, it would boost their confidence and consolidate morale, whereas a high body count could easily undo all the hard work we’d done getting them back into fighting trim.
‘All squadrons ready.’ That was Captain Shambas, head of the Sentinel troop; we had all three squadrons with us, which gave us a total of nine walkers. Considerable overkill, given the quality of the resistance we were expecting, but there’s nothing like overwhelming fire superiority to give you a sense of self-confidence.
‘Confirm.’ Broklaw’s voice joined the others in my combead. He was in another Salamander, which, like mine, had been fitted out as a command unit. I was more used to the lighter, faster scout variant, which was always my vehicle of choice (I prefer to be able to outrun trouble if I have to), but under the circumstances, I wanted to be able to keep a close eye on things. Besides, the command version had a heavy flamer fitted, which might come in handy in the brutal close-quarter fighting I expected through the rubble of the Heights.
Which reminded me...
‘Artillery units commence firing,’ I said. A moment later, the ground beneath our treads started to tremble as Mostrue’s Earthshakers began living up to their name. I swept my gaze around, tallying the assembled task force. A dozen Chimeras, nine Sentinels, and two Salamanders. I drew my chainsword and gestured towards the gate.
‘Move out!’ I ordered. Jurgen gunned the engine, and we lurched into motion. Inured to his robust driving style by years of familiarity, I kept my balance with little difficulty. Broklaw’s driver moved smoothly in behind us, and I could see his head and shoulders in the open rear compartment; he caught my eye and waved. Kasteen, I knew, would dearly have loved to take command herself, but had stepped down in favour of her subordinate. After all, he too deserved a chance to prove his mettle, and technically, the operation was too small to be overseen by someone of her rank anyway. I was pleased she’d given way without prompting, though, and I could tell Broklaw appreciated it. It was another example of the way the regiment was beginning to function as it was supposed to.
Kasteen was there to see us off, though, along with everyone else who didn’t have pressing duties to attend to, or who thought they might get away with skiving off for a few minutes. A cheer went up from our comrades which, for a moment, managed to make itself heard above the roar of engines, the din of the Sentinels, and the rolling thunderclaps of the Earthshakers.
As we hit the streets, the city was in turmoil. We’d kept our plans secret, of course, so none of the natives had a clue what was going on; they scattered in front of us like frightened sump rats, and Jurgen gunned the engine as though it were capable of the speeds he usually drove at. Ahead of us, a plume of dust and smoke marked our destination.
I flipped vox channels to the tactical net. The loyalist PDF units were being told to stand down and let us through, which came as a relief, although ill-disciplined rabble that they were, many were arguing or demanding to know what was going on.
‘Major.’ I switched back. ‘It’s all yours for the moment. Try to save a couple for me, eh?’
‘I’ll do my best.’ Broklaw waved as Jurgen peeled us away from the rest of the convoy, mowing down a couple of ornamental shrubs and a litter basket as we swung off the broad boulevard into a narrower cross street which would take us to the industrial area.
The muffled crump of the shells detonating was audible now, the shriek and whine of their passage presaging each explosion, and the noise cleared the street for us far more effectively than any Arbites siren could have done. After a few moments, and several lurching turns any driver but Jurgen would probably have flipped us over attempting to execute, the buildings around us were unmistakably industrial in nature. Still that Emperor-forsaken xenoist-style architecture, admittedly, but sufficiently grubby for their purpose to be obvious.
‘Broklaw to command.’ The major’s voice was calm and competent. ‘Cease barrage. We’re in position.’
I was glad to hear it. I hadn’t even begun my makework errand yet, and he was already on the verge of clearing the traitors out. Jurgen began to slow the Salamander, and, with a sense of déjà vu, I could see a PDF officer stepping out in front of us, his hand raised. Manufactoria rose all around us, tall enough to shadow the streets, but apart from the man in uniform, there was no sign of life. That struck me as strange, as the work shifts should still have been in full swing.
‘Commissar,’ Jurgen said, his voice uncertain. ‘Can you hear firing?’
As the engine idled down, I realised he was right. For a moment, I found myself wondering at the acoustics, assuming that what I was hearing must be echoes of the firefight up in the Heights, which a series of crisp exchanges in my combead told me had already broken out. Then I realised it was coming from somewhere ahead of us, inside the line of the PDF cordon marked on the mapslate in front of me.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked, glaring down at the officer. He looked a little panicky.
‘I’m not sure, sir. We had orders to hold, but there’s dozens of them. Have you brought reinforcements?’
‘I’m afraid we’re it,’ I said, playing for time. ‘Who are you holding against?’
‘I don’t know. We were pulled out of barracks last night, and told to cordon off the area.’ He didn’t seem any older than the officer I’d shot, I noticed with a sudden flare of apprehension, and the rapid tumble of his words told me he was on the verge of panic. Whatever I’d blundered into was heading for the sump, that much was obvious, and I cursed my luck; but it was too late to back out now. ‘We were just told to secure the area until the inquisitor’s party got back...’
Merciful Emperor, this was just getting better and better. Clearly, whatever stones Orelius had been turning over had revealed more than the shadowy conspirators he was chasing were happy with, and they were determined to make sure no one lived to pass on their secrets.
‘Did he say what he was after down here?’ I asked, and the officer shook his head.
‘I didn’t speak to any of them. Only the captain did, and he’s dead now...’ His voice began to rise, hysteria bubbling below the surface. I jumped down to stand beside him, feeling the rockcrete jar beneath my boot-heels, and tried to project all the reassurance and authority I could.
‘Then I take it you’re the officer in charge, lieutenant.’ That got through to him. He nodded, a short, myoclonic twitch. ‘So report. Where did they go? When? How many? What can you tell me?’ His jaw worked for a moment, as though he were trying to force it to function. Gunfire and screams continued to echo between the buildings.
‘There’s a warehouse. Back there.’ He pointed to one of the structures. A las-bolt cracked from one of the upper windows, passing between our heads, and struck the side of the Salamander. I ducked, pulling him down to safety, while Jurgen rotated the sturdy little vehicle on its tracks to bring the hull-mounted heavy bolter in line. It roared in response, gouging away part of the wall, and reducing the sniper to an unpleasant stain.
‘Thank you, Jurgen.’ I returned my attention to the young officer. ‘And the inquisitor went in there?’
‘They all did. Just before dawn. We were told to let no one in or out until they came back.’ That would have been about ten-and-a-half hours ago, by my reckoning, and something told me Orelius wouldn’t be returning any time soon.
‘How many of them were there?’ I asked. He thought for a moment.
‘I saw six,’ he said at last. ‘Four men and two women. One of them seemed a bit peculiar.’ That would be Rakel the psyker, I assumed.
‘What about the hostiles?’ I prompted him. He shook his head.
‘They’re everywhere, dozens of them...’ His head twitched nervously from side to side as he tried to keep the entire street in view.
‘Where? Inside the warehouse?’
‘Mostly.’ He stood up, about to flee, and another las-bolt caught him in the shoulder. He fell back, shrieking like a child.
‘You’ll be fine,’ I told him after a cursory glance at the injury. One thing you can say for being shot by a las-bolt is that they cauterise the wound they cause, so at least you won’t bleed to death from a glancing hit; a fact that has saved my own miserable life on a couple of occasions. I looked back down the street, trying to spot where the fire had come from, and caught sight of some movement behind a pile of shipping crates. I pointed. ‘Ours or theirs?’
‘I don’t know! Emperor’s blood, it hurts–’
‘It’ll hurt a damn sight more in a moment if you don’t stop frakking me around!’ I shouted suddenly. ‘Your men are dying out there! If you can’t start behaving like an officer and help me save them, I’ll finish you off myself!’ That was the last thing I was going to do, of course, the way he was yelling he’d draw the enemy fire off me like a champion when we moved, but it did the trick. I could see the coin drop behind his eyes as he suddenly remembered what had happened to the last PDF unit to get in the way of a commissar.
