Hero of the Imperium, page 61
I managed to ditch Sulla as we passed her platoon and she dropped into her seat, and I settled into my own at the front of the passenger compartment, close to the door of the cockpit. I didn’t anticipate having to go up there, but since our abrupt arrival on Simia Orichalcae I’d got into the habit of sitting close enough to the flight deck to be able to intervene in person if the pilot got jittery.
‘Commissar.’ Captain Detoi, the company commander, nodded a polite greeting and resumed discussing administrative trivia with his subaltern. I returned it and fastened my crash webbing. A moment later a faint vibration transmitted itself through the hull and the frame of my seat and I aimed a reassuring smile at Jurgen.
‘We’re on our way,’ I said. He nodded, his knuckles white. There was very little in the galaxy which seemed to perturb him, but travelling by shuttle or atmospheric flyer most definitely qualified. I found it mildly ironic that a man who’d stared into the faces of necrons and daemons without flinching could be so thoroughly put out by something so mundane, but I guess everyone has their weak spot. Jurgen’s was a tendency to motion sickness, which made itself manifest every time we hit atmosphere. Fortunately he generally breakfasted lightly before a drop, seeming to feel that throwing up in front of the rest of the troopers would undermine the dignity expected of a commissar’s aide.
The familiar lurching sensation in the pit of my stomach told me that we’d dropped clear of the troopship at last, and a moment later the main engines ignited, nudging me gently in the small of the back.
With nothing better to do, I thought I might as well get whatever rest I could and closed my eyes, only to be roused a few moments later by what at first I took to be the usual buffeting which always shakes a shuttle entering an atmosphere.
‘Commissar.’ Detoi was shaking me gently by the arm. ‘Sorry to disturb you, but I think you should hear this.’
‘Hear what?’ I asked, the palms of my hands beginning to tingle, as they often do when things are about to go horribly wrong. By way of an answer he tapped the comm-bead in his ear.
‘Open channel D,’ he suggested. I raised an eyebrow. That was the Tallarns’ assigned command frequency and normally we’d have no business monitoring it.
‘I wanted to know how their deployment was going, so they wouldn’t be getting in our way once we got down.’ Detoi seemed completely unabashed, clearly having formed as low an opinion of the desert fighters as the rest of us. At least they’d be stuck on the other side of the planet once we deployed, though, so that would be something.
‘And?’ I enquired, retuning my own unit as I spoke.
Detoi flipped a strand of lank blond hair out of his eyes. ‘Most of them have cleared the starport. But the stragglers seem to have run into some kind of trouble.’ By this time I was able to hear for myself and was forced to agree with his assessment. It sounded as though Asmar’s command team and a fair few others were in the middle of a firefight. Who with, though, was anybody’s guess.
‘Better prepare for a hot drop,’ I said, and Detoi nodded. While he began issuing orders I retuned the comm-bead to the starport control frequency, which seemed to be choked with panicking voices.
‘Say again?’ Our pilot sounded incredulous, always a bad thing in a Navy veteran with Emperor knows how many combat drops to his credit.
A quavering voice, unsteady with stress, responded. ‘I repeat, abort your landing. Remain circling until we know what we’re dealing with.’
‘Frak off.’ My relief at the pilot’s pithy response was profound. If we followed that instruction we might just as well be towing a sign saying ‘shoot me down now.’ Our best chance was to hit the ground fast, where we could deploy the troops and find something for them to shoot at.
‘You will comply, or face charges.’ The voice sounded on the edge of breaking; no doubt whoever it belonged to was having a very bad day. Well tough, I was about to make it worse. I cut into the channel, using my commissarial override.
‘This is Commissar Cain of the 597th,’ I said. ‘Our pilot is acting with the full authority of the commissariat. We are landing, and any further attempt to prevent us from engaging the enemies of the Emperor will be regarded as treasonous. Is that clear?’
‘Absolutely,’ the pilot agreed cheerfully. Words apparently failed the traffic controller, as transmissions from the tower suddenly went dead. ‘Better hang on back there, we’re going in hard and fast.’
‘Acknowledged,’ I said, making sure my crash harness was fully fastened and cutting into the general comm-net to warn everyone else to take the same precaution. Jurgen was looking even less happy than usual, so I checked his too, just as the dropship lived up to its name and began a vertiginous plunge towards the planet below. ‘Any idea what the problem is?’
‘The Tallarn command team and one of their platoons is pinned down here,’ Detoi said, producing a data-slate on which a plan of the starport was displayed. ‘They seem to have been ambushed as they left the main cargo handling area.’
I studied the plan. It was a good site for an ambush, there was no denying that. The Tallarns were pinned between the perimeter wall and a complex of warehouses, which would split them up and force them into a series of freefire zones if they tried to break out. I tapped the line of the wall.
‘Why don’t they just blast through this and retreat across the landing pads?’ I asked.
Detoi shrugged. ‘It’s thirty metres high and ten thick. It’s supposed to contain the explosion of a shuttle crash. Nothing they’ve got could even dent it.’
‘Great,’ I said. That meant if we came down on a pad ourselves we couldn’t go to their aid without being bottlenecked by the same gate they’d been ambushed at. We’d blunder straight into the same trap. But my high-handed dismissal of the starport drone had committed us. By now the news that the celebrated Commissar Cain was on his way to rescue the stranded troopers would most likely be halfway round the city, so leaving Asmar and his men flapping in the breeze wasn’t an option. Not if I wanted to stay on the lord general’s invitation list at any rate, and being permanently deprived of his chef’s cuisine would be a severe blow, so I had to think of something else fast. I scanned the surrounding terrain. ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s a monastery,’ Detoi said, looking puzzled. He pulled up some data on it. ‘The Order of the Imperial Light.’ A faint grin appeared on his face. ‘Rather ironic, considering the local conditions.’
‘Quite,’ I said. ‘What’s this around it?’
Detoi shrugged. ‘Vegetable gardens, according to the plan of the city in the briefing slate. Didn’t you read it?’
I hadn’t, having found better things to do with my time aboard the Emperor’s Benificence (which generally involved a pack of cards and other people’s currency).
‘Open ground, in other words.’ Well, relatively open. I relayed the co-ordinates to our pilot, who received them with undisguised enthusiasm. ‘I think we’ve just found our drop zone.’
‘Works for me,’ Detoi said. He switched frequencies again, to our general command channel. ‘Listen up everyone, we’re hitting dirt in two. It’ll be hot, so look alive.’ A flurry of activity broke out across the passenger compartment as troopers donned their helmets and snapped fresh power cells into their lasguns. In deference to the temperatures we expected to find when we landed, they’d left their greatcoats and fur hats in their kitbags, but most, I was relieved to see, had kept their flak armour on through force of habit. That was good. It showed they were still on the ball despite having expected a routine deployment. Whatever was waiting for us on the planet below was in for a big surprise, I reflected grimly.
Come to that, so were the monks. Our shuttle lurched a couple of times, making Jurgen swallow convulsively, then the sudden pressure of the landing thrusters kicking in hit me in the base of the spine. My aide’s knuckles whitened even more, although being Jurgen it would probably be a little more accurate to say they became a paler shade of grey. Then the whole hull shook, a couple of deafening bangs and a metallic screech echoed through the passenger compartment, and we came to rest.
Loud metallic clangs and a rush of cool, sweet air told us the boarding ramps were down, and with a roar like surf crashing on a beach, second company rushed to meet the enemy.
THREE
‘Incoming fire has the right of way.’
– Old artilleryman’s maxim
My first impression on leaving the shuttle was one of confusion, although to the credit of the troopers they all snapped into their immediate action drills as smoothly as if we were on exercise. Squads of them were fanning out, looking for trouble, ignoring a herd of squawking crimson-robed anchorites who were milling around as though the sky was falling (although, to be fair, I suppose from their perspective it just had). I could only hope they’d all had the presence of mind to run as soon as the shuttle appeared overhead instead of standing there waiting to be squashed like the rather unpleasant pulpy thing I’d just put my boot through.19
‘Third platoon mounted up and ready to go,’ Sulla reported, as a roar of engines heralded the appearance of half a dozen Chimeras which bounced down the port aft loading ramp and made a terrible mess of what was left of the crop we’d just landed on. Her head and shoulders were visible protruding from the turret of her command vehicle, easily distinguishable from the others by the cluster of vox antennae on top of it, and she waved cheerfully as she caught sight of me and Detoi. I raised a hand in return, though more to forestall any precipitate action on her part than to be social, and glanced at the captain’s data-slate again.
‘The hostiles appear to be concentrated here and here,’ he said, bringing up icons to indicate their positions, and I nodded. The Tallarns were still boxed in, but making a fight of it for all that, and the messages we were receiving on their tac frequency were a good indication of where the enemy, whoever the hell they were, had set up their firing positions. ‘They’ve called for reinforcements, but the bulk of their forces left by the main gate, so…’
‘They’re still at least twenty minutes away,’ I finished, and Detoi nodded.
They could shave a good five minutes off that by cutting straight across the starport, of course, but they’d run straight into that damn gate and just make sitting ducks of themselves. I considered the layout of the streets, and could tell by the faint grunt of satisfaction he emitted that Detoi had come to the same conclusion as I had.
‘We’ll take them here and here,’ I said, indicating the two main streets the heretics had effectively turned into shooting galleries. It was a fair bet that they’d set up their trap intending to butcher any Tallarns trying to break out, and that they’d be completely unprepared for a counter-attack in the opposite direction.
The captain nodded. ‘We’ll need to secure the flank too,’ he pointed out. I concurred, having already seen the danger. If they became aware of our forces approaching from behind they might try to break away to the left, into the city, before being caught between us and the Tallarns. The other way was effectively blocked to them by the wall of the starport, which was actually working for us in this instance.
‘Send Sulla,’ I suggested. ‘Her people are ready to go.’ The flanking force would take a couple of minutes longer to reach their objective, so it made sense to send the platoon which was already mounted up and ready to roll. More to the point it would keep her sidelined, I hoped, where her tendency to reckless bravado would have less chance of getting somebody killed.
‘Works for me.’ Detoi nodded crisply and transmitted the data from his slate. ‘Third platoon, secure the flank. First and fifth, you’ve got the main boulevards. Second, take the side streets by squads, sweep up anyone trying to get past our main thrust. Fourth, secure the perimeter, don’t let anyone out who isn’t one of ours until the noise stops. Hold anyone who looks like a civilian for questioning, shoot anyone bearing a weapon. Any questions?’
He was good, I had to give him that. The platoon commanders acknowledged, a faint note of disappointment just discernable in Sulla’s voice, and Detoi turned to me.
‘What about you, commissar?’
‘I’ll take the flank,’ I said, having considered my options carefully, raising my voice above the howls of third platoon’s Chimera engines as they ploughed their way out of the monastery garden. There was no sign of a gate, but then there wasn’t much left of the wall either, the minor earthquake caused by a couple of kilotonnes of dropship impacting the ground having taken care of that quite nicely. Most of the shrine appeared to be intact, though, which I was pleased to see, as hacking off the ecclesiarchy tends to lead to more doleful sermonising than I care to sit through. The tracks of Sulla’s command vehicle bit into the rubble and scattered it, and then she was gone, her quintet of squad transports bouncing in her wake.
Detoi looked doubtful. ‘If you’re sure that’s wise?’ he said.
‘I am,’ I assured him. ‘Sulla’s a good officer, but inclined to be impetuous.’ He nodded, all too aware of this tendency. ‘I’m not saying she might do something rash, but it’s vital she holds position in case the enemy bolts. Knowing I’m around might prove to have a moderating influence.’ More to the point, it was going to be a great deal safer sitting things out on the flank than it appeared, if our assessment of the enemy’s state of preparedness was wrong. Charge headlong down a narrow fire lane? Not if I could avoid it.
‘You’ll need to move fast to catch up,’ Detoi said, clearly conceding the point.
‘Not a problem,’ I said, tapping my comm-bead. ‘Jurgen. We’re moving out.’
By way of an answer the roar of a powerful engine echoed from inside the cargo hold and a Salamander bounced down the exit ramp, slewing between the Chimeras like a predator among grazers. Jurgen swung it to a halt beside me, raising a spray of mud and vegetable slime which caused the nearest monks to dive for cover just as they’d plucked up the courage to approach us and ask what the hell was going on, and crushing what remained of a small greenhouse to splinters under its tracks.
‘Right here, commissar,’ he said, phlegmatic as always, only a faint grimace that might have been the prototype of a smile betraying his relief at being back on terra firma.
‘Good,’ I said, clambering into the rear compartment and checking the pintle-mounted bolter I normally try to ensure is fitted to whatever vehicle is assigned to me. It might not seem like much, but the extra firepower has saved my neck on more than one occasion, and if nothing else it lets me look as though I’m doing something positive while getting away from trouble as fast as possible. ‘We’re attaching ourselves to third platoon.’
‘We’ll catch them,’ Jurgen promised, gunning the powerful engine and sending the little scout vehicle hurtling in pursuit with all the alacrity of a startled pterasquirrel. Inured by years of experience to his unique and enthusiastic driving style I kept my feet, striking a heroic pose at the bolter for the benefit of the troopers who had still to mount up.
‘I don’t doubt it,’ I said, clinging a little harder to the pintle mount as we bounced over the line of rubble which used to be a wall, and made the easier going of the street.
It was only then that I had time to take stock of our surroundings and got my first good look at the capital of Adumbria.
My first impression was one of gloom, which was hardly surprising given the perpetual twilight which held sway here. The buildings seemed to hang low over our heads, deep shadows falling between them, accentuated by the warm glow of light from a few of the windows. It was only as I got used to the conditions here that I came to realise that most of them were as elegant and well-proportioned as those of any other Imperial city, and that it was merely the endless evening which produced that illusion.
The streets seemed surprisingly empty until I checked my chronograph and realised that, despite the half-light which pervaded everything, it was the middle of the night according to the local custom.20 That was something anyway; there would be fewer civilians around to be caught in the crossfire. Come to that, anyone still in the area after hearing the all-too-obvious sounds of battle in the distance was probably involved in the insurrection in any case, so we wouldn’t have to worry much about collateral casualties. My spirits lifted at the thought; every innocent servant of the Emperor killed by mistake diminishes the whole Imperium, and, more to the point, would dump a pile of extra paperwork on my desk.
‘There they are.’ Jurgen accelerated past a startled-looking local praetor on a motorcycle who seemed commendably, though foolishly in my opinion, eager to investigate the source of the disturbance, and I waved casually as we moved ahead of him. No doubt the sight of a clumsy-looking armoured vehicle overtaking him, let alone one with an Imperial commissar in the back, was something of a shock, but the scout Salamander wasn’t my vehicle of choice for nothing. Its powerful engine gave it a respectable turn of speed which, allied with Jurgen’s formidable driving abilities, could get me out of trouble almost as fast as my reputation could get me into it in its more inconvenient moments.
Fortunately, there seemed to be little other traffic and most was moving in the other direction at speeds which would no doubt have attracted the notice of our praetor friend under any other circumstances, but they’d be netted by fourth platoon’s cordon before they got much further so I paid them no mind. In any case, I doubted that they’d prove to be anything other than what they seemed: local workers and cargo handlers on the late shift who’d noticed what was going on and were getting as far away from it as possible. A couple of groundcars were pulled over at the side of our carriageway, the dents in their bodywork and the angry expressions of their drivers mute testament to Sulla’s single-minded determination to close with the enemy, and I began to think that I’d made the right decision to hold her leash in person.
