I’d known times like these would follow?
Kabanov ordered his adjutant to record the general’s words. Maro dug a battered old data-slate
from a side pocket and began writing on the screen as General Vlastan said, “You are to take what’s
left of your force, excepting anyone that can be expected to slow you down, and head north
immediately to the town of Grazzen. When I say immediately, Maksim, you can be sure I mean
exactly that. According to the most recent transmissions, our forces at Grazzen are under heavy
attack from the greenskin horde. The orks have launched a major offensive there. If they reach either
of Grazzen’s bridges, our Thirty-Fifth Armoured Regiment have been ordered to destroy them. I’ll
send additional forces to Grazzen as soon as we’ve finished talking. That should help to keep the
corridor open a little longer, but you must hurry. If you don’t reach Grazzen in time, Maksim, you
and everyone with you will be stranded in Varanes. You will be lost to us. No further support will
be available.”
Kabanov shook his head in disgust. What kind of support have you offered up until now. he
thought?
“Grazzen is over three hundred kilometres from our current position, general, and we’ll be lucky
if the orks haven’t already taken the mountain pass. Just how long do you think we have?”
“It’s impossible to say, Maksim. You’ve got as long as the Thirty-Fifth can hold out against the
odds. This is your only way home. You say the bridge at Nhalich is gone. I say Grazzen is your last
chance. The DIA will roll more armour up from the south now that you’ve ousted their people from
the relay station. Nhalich West will already have put a call out for support on the east bank. Fifth
Company should leave at once.”
“Very good, sir. Unless there’s anything—”
“One second, Maksim. I’m not finished. It is vitally important that the prisoner, Brammon
Gusseff, remains completely unharmed, likewise, the case that accompanies him. You are to spare
nothing in ensuring that both prisoner and case reach Command HQ here in Seddisvarr. This
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objective is your highest priority and supersedes all other considerations. The life of every last man
under your command is secondary to the achievement of this task. I repeat: the prisoner and case are
to be delivered intact to Command HQ on Seddisvarr. Is that clear?”
“Sir…”
“These are my orders, Maksim. If there were any other way…” There was a pause before
Vlastan said, “You know I’ve always been grateful for—”
The general’s voice was cut off as the entire relay station shook. The walls and ceiling cracked
and rained dirt down on the heads of the men in the communications room.
“Artillery,” shouted Sebastev. “They’re hitting us from the far side of the river. Get the khek out
of here now! All of you!”
Kabanov felt Sebastev’s powerful grip on his upper arm as the captain hauled him out of his seat
and pulled him after the others, just in time. Another artillery shell smashed into the relay station,
bringing massive chunks of the shattered roof crashing down on top of the communications console.
Kabanov saw enough in the moment he was yanked through the door to know he’d have been
crushed where he sat were it not for Sebastev’s reflexes.
The captain still had a grip on Kabanov’s arm as they raced down the stairway followed closely
by a thick cloud of choking, grey dust. Lieutenant Kuritsin was descending at the head of the group,
shouting to the rest of the soldiers in the building as he went. “Everyone outside now! Assemble on
the east side of the building.”
Sebastev and Kabanov hit the bottom of the stairs and raced out into the open air as another
artillery round thundered into the building, shaking the ground under their feet. The thick ferrocrete
structure collapsed in on itself, transforming into a vast pile of rubble with a rumble and a great
cough of dust and smoke.
“Not Basilisks,” shouted Kabanov over the noise of more shelling.
“No, sir,” replied Sebastev as they ran. “One of their own machines. An Earthshaker would have
snuffed us all out with the first shot.”
“I need to know, captain,” said Kabanov, “did we get the prisoner out in time?”
Sebastev grunted. “Look up ahead, sir.”
There, among the Firstborn assembled on the street, Patriot-Captain Brammon Gusseff of the
Danikkin Special Patriotic Service stood eyeballing Trooper Aronov. The big scout had his knife
pressed to the prisoner’s neck. Kabanov could see the trooper was itching to use it, too.
“No one must hurt him,” said Kabanov as he slowed his pace. “Orders are orders, captain, no
matter how damned irregular they are.”
“I know that, sir,” said Sebastev, the distaste plain in his voice. “The prisoner won’t be harmed.
I’ll see to it myself.”
Kabanov was quiet as they walked. His body was screaming at him to rest, but there wasn’t time
for that. Once Fifth Company was under way, he’d lie down and close his eyes for a while. A mug
of hot ohx’ wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
Just before he and Sebastev were within earshot of the other men, he turned to the captain and
said, “Thank you for pulling me out of there, Grigorius. Damn this body of mine. I’m trying to hold
out as long as I can, but it’s getting harder. Fifth Company must make it through. For the honour of
the regiment, you understand.”
Sebastev didn’t meet the colonel’s eye. “For the honour of the regiment, sir,” he said. “But the
White Boar is the only man who can see us back to Seddisvarr. You’ve got the Emperor’s work still
to do, I tell you. I’ll assist you in any way I can.”
As they rejoined the others, Kabanov said, “Very well. You can start by getting us out of
Nhalich.”
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CHAPTER TEN
Day 687
Nhalich, East Bank — 15:S8hrs, -21 °C
Behind Sebastev, the sound of the Danikkin long guns could still be heard raining heavy shells
down on the east side of town. The shelling was sporadic. The rebels weren’t trying to level the
place; their own forces were already on their way up from the south-east with the intention of taking
it back. Fifth Company didn’t plan to be there when they arrived. More Vostroyan wounded had
already been loaded into one of the Pathcutters and were being administered to once again by
Sergeant Svemir. The able-bodied men, barely a hundred of them now, were busy loading weapons
and gear into another of the heavy transports. With so few men left to ride in them, two of the
Pathcutters would be left behind, scuttled so the advancing Danikkin couldn’t make use of them.
Lieutenant Kuritsin stepped up beside Sebastev. “I’ve got some bad news, sir.”
“What is it, Rits?”
“One of our spotters reports Danikkin armour approaching the town, coming up the southern
highway, strength unknown. At their current speed, they’ll be here within the hour.”
Sebastev was about to respond when a call came in over his vox-bead. “Tarkarov to Captain
Sebastev. One of my men watching the east reports movement, sir. It looks like orks, a lot of them.
They’re still some distance away, but they appear to be covering ground quickly.”
“Orks and rebels at the same time,” said Sebastev. “Someone really doesn’t like us. Tell our men
to speed things up. Anything not loaded within the next ten minutes gets left behind.”
“Sir,” said Kuritsin. “Colonel Kabanov ordered a squad to salvage provisions from the town.
Our own stocks are running dangerously low. Sergeant Breshek took a few men from Fourth
Platoon and went to take care of it. They’re on their way back with supplies, but with time running
out, perhaps we should send extra men to assist them.”
“Fine, send the extra men. The longer we wait, the more chance we’ll get entangled with either
or both of the oncoming foes. In fact, our chances of getting away clean aren’t looking good.”
Tarkarov’s voice came back over the vox. “Could we perhaps organise some kind of diversion,
sir?”
“I don’t think we can afford to leave without one. We don’t want our flanks harried all the way
to the mountains. We mustn’t get sucked into another fight. Our chances of crossing at Grazzen
erode by the minute. I’ll consult Colonel Kabanov.”
As Sebastev walked towards the colonel’s Chimera, vox-reports came in from his platoon
leaders. The essentials had been loaded up. The men were, for the most part, ready to move out on
the colonel’s command. Sebastev ordered them to stand by.
Sebastev knocked on the sealed hatch of Colonel Kabanov’s Chimera to announce himself. The
hatch was opened by Lieutenant Maro, who ushered Sebastev in quickly and closed the hatch behind
him. Father Olov, Enginseer Politnov, Commissar Karif, and the prisoner, Gusseff, sat in the back of
the Chimera, still clothed in full outdoor kit. Gusseff’s hands and feet were bound tight and his
mouth had been taped.
Sebastev spared him only the briefest glance before he faced Colonel Kabanov and said, “Sir,
we’re almost ready to move out, but it doesn’t look like we’re going to get away clean. Danikkin
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armour is rolling up from the south and orks are coming in from the east. Even if they don’t see us,
without some kind of distraction they’ll pick up our tracks all too quickly.”
Colonel Kabanov indicated a seat and Sebastev took it. No one, it seemed, was particularly eager
to sit next to the traitor. The seats beside and opposite him remained empty, despite the otherwise
cramped conditions. This is grave news, captain. A distraction would need more time to organise
than we can spare.”
“We could stand and fight,” rambled Father Olov.
“As much as I believe that a glorious death should be the final wish of every man, father,” said
Commissar Karif, “I’m also reminded that General Vlastan gave very specific orders. There’s little
glory in a death that leaves important tasks unfinished.”
“The commissar is right,” said Kabanov. “Besides, I’ve no intention of seeing this company
meet its end in Nhalich. Twelfth Army Command wants this traitor, and they’re going to get him.
We must be away at once. Captain, are the men loaded and ready to move out?”
“We await the last few, sir. They’re bringing essential provisions. We’re running very low, as
I’m sure you know.”
“How long before the men return to us, captain?”
Sebastev voxed the question over to Lieutenant Kuritsin, who was still outside, overseeing the
final preparations to move out. When the answer came back, Sebastev relayed it to Colonel
Kabanov. “They’ve just returned, sir. The provisions are being loaded up.”
“Good,” said the colonel, “but that still leaves us the problem of a diversion. I blame myself, of
course for the oversight. We should have rigged the power plants here like we did at Korris. There
just hasn’t been time. I don’t suppose we could…”
“I think it’s too late for that, sir,” said Sebastev, “unless you’re willing to sacrifice the few
troopers we have left with any demolitions experience. And they’d need one of the Chimeras to get
them to the target area in time. Enginseer Politnov would have to accompany them, too.”
The enginseer swung his cowled head in Sebastev’s direction. His metallic voice sounded from
somewhere in his chest. “I have no qualms about remaining to lead such an operation. My life, such
as it is, belongs to the Omnissiah.”
Sebastev nodded, but Colonel Kabanov held up a hand. “No, enginseer,” he said, “I appreciate
your willingness, but we’ve suffered enough losses. Fifth Company can’t afford to leave anyone
behind.”
“My own analysis of the situation, colonel,” replied Enginseer Politnov, “tells me that you will
lose some men, or you will lose all. Certain losses will be necessary if Fifth Company is to evade
pursuit. I have a proposition that I think will help to minimise those losses.”
In the close air of the Chimera, Sebastev found himself very aware of the mysterious clicks and
hisses that emanated from the enginseer’s body. Politnov always wore the same voluminous red
robes. Oil-stained and torn in places, they were utterly inadequate for life in the deep winter, even
more so than Father Olov’s robes, but the enginseer seemed impervious to the lethal cold. He had
little left in common with mortal men. Over hundreds of years, most of his organs and extremities
had been replaced or upgraded. Perhaps he had more in common with the Chimeras and the
Pathcutters that he worked constantly to maintain.
“Two of our Pathcutter transports are surplus to current requirements,” said Politnov. “I believe
it was the captain’s intention to scuttle them prior to the arrival of the advancing rebels. Confirm,
please.”
“It still is my intention,” replied Sebastev.
“Aside from my own distaste at the destruction of any machine, captain, I feel you would be in
error to do so. My servitors and I are quite capable of driving both of the machines south-east. At a
point between both ork and rebel parties, we will generate the sounds and visual signs of an
engagement. This will almost certainly draw the attention of the orks. Those among you who have
read Anzion’s works will already be aware that orks cannot resist a battle. They crave the
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opportunity to grow in size and strength. It is like a drug to them. I know from your strategy at
Korris, Colonel Kabanov, that you understand this well.”
Colonel Kabanov looked displeased but, when he spoke, his tone was one of resignation. “You
intend to draw the orks onto the rebels, enginseer. It’s an audacious plan. I’d even call it foolhardy.”
The enginseer was quiet for a moment, but a slight motion of his shoulders suggested to
Sebastev that the old machine-man was chuckling to himself. “It has a reasonable probability of
success, colonel. Far greater than an uncovered retreat, I assure you.”
“You and your servants are non-combatants,” said Kabanov, “I can’t order you to do this.”
“It would be a great and noble sacrifice,” said Commissar Karif, “but who will appease the
machine-spirits of our vehicles if you do this thing?”
“The machines will take you as far as you need to go, commissar. This planet has made them
fickle, it’s true. Offer due obeisance and they will get you to Grazzen. As for my life and the lives of
my staff, they belong to the Omnissiah, as they always have. I have lived a very long time. In recent
years, I have slowed. Processing takes more time. My functions include more frequent errors. My
biological systems are finally collapsing centuries beyond their natural lifespan.”
