Sebastev couldn’t share the White Boar’s optimism.
The Thirty-Fifth will be retreating towards the north bridge even as we stand here, he thought.
Prisoner or not, Major Ushenko will have orders to blow that bridge before the orks can gain a
foothold in Theqis.
“Back to the Chimera,” ordered Colonel Kabanov. “Time’s running out.”
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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Day 688
East Grazzen — 12:07hrs, -19°C
The Vostroyan occupation of Grazzen had at least kept the roads fairly clear of snow. The major
arteries of the city were well-used. Fifth Company made good speed through the outskirts. Sebastev
watched through a firing port in the side of the Chimera as isolated habs surrounded by open land
gradually gave way to clustered buildings. Before long, the streets were crowded with tall tenements
in the Danikkin style, their walls crumbling from two thousand years of climatic punishment.
Up ahead, getting closer with each passing second, a solid wall of flame roared and crackled as
it danced in the gusting wind. In the light from the fire, Sebastev saw ork corpses littering every
blood-slicked street and alleyway. The buildings on either side bore the scars of artillery
bombardment and lascannon fire. The Chimera began to buck as it sped over bodies lying on the
open road.
“Sergeant,” called Kabanov to his driver, “give us all you’ve got. We’ve got to break through
those flames at speed. I know they’re well shielded, but I don’t want our promethium tanks blowing
up when we’re right in the middle of that inferno.”
“Maximum speed, colonel,” replied the driver. “I’ll get us through it, sir.” The Chimera gunned
forward, diving into the blazing heat and light.
Even through the heavy shielding of the Chimera’s hull, with his cloak and hat removed and his
greatcoat unfastened, Sebastev felt like he was being baked alive in an oven.
Sebastev doubted Sergeant Samarov could see where he was going. The flames were blindingly
bright. He prayed they wouldn’t get snagged or smash into a building before they’d cleared the far
side of the blaze.
The other drivers reported that they too were racing across the burning ground. Just then, alarms
sounded from the front of the vehicle. “By Holy Terra,” shouted Samarov. “It’s as you feared,
colonel. Much more of this and the tanks will blow.”
One of the Chimera’s treads began to rattle, and Sebastev felt the vehicle pull to the left. There
was a sudden decrease in speed. “We’ve lost the left track,” shouted the driver. “We’re khekked!”
There was a deafening boom from below. Sebastev had time to yell, “Brace yourselves!” before
the Chimera flipped over and slammed to the ground on its back, the right track still running fast,
clawing at thin air as if desperate to keep running.
“Throne above!” shouted Commissar Karif. “Tell me we made it out of the flames.”
“The temperature is dropping in here,” said Lieutenant Maro. “We must have just cleared them.”
Inside the rear of the Chimera, everyone hung upside down from their seats, saved from serious
injury, perhaps even death, by their restraints. Sebastev looked over at Colonel Kabanov and saw
blood running from the man’s mouth and nose. He immediately hit his belt release, crashing to the
ceiling, which had now become the floor, and said, “Are you hurt, colonel? Answer me. Are you all
right?”
Colonel Kabanov opened one eye, and then the other. He coughed, and a fine spray of blood
misted the air. “Damned stupid question, Sebastev,” he rasped. “I’m hanging upside down. Of
course I’m not all right.”
Sebastev moved forward to help the colonel. “Maro, help me get him down.”
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Lieutenant Maro hit his own belt release and dropped gracelessly to the floor, groaning as his
head struck the metal. But he was up just as fast and moved to aid Sebastev in getting the colonel
down. “You work the belt release,” said Sebastev. “I’ll lift him down.”
Behind them, Commissar Karif, Lieutenant Kuritsin and Captain Chelnikov dropped to the floor
with varying sounds of complaint. Maro worked the colonel’s seatbelt off and Sebastev gently lifted
the man down.
By the Emperor, thought Sebastev, he’s so light. All his muscle, all his vitality… This world has
stripped it from him. If the Twelfth Army ever pulls out of this campaign, I’ll take some consolation
in the knowledge that the Imperial Navy will bomb the damned planet to dust.
Kabanov began shouting as soon as his feet hit the floor. “Hell blast and damn! I’m not some
infant to be put over your shoulder, Sebastev. Unhand me, man. The indignity of it, by the Throne!”
Sebastev stepped back, his eyes fastened to the blood that streaked the colonel’s face and
clothes. “You’re bleeding, sir.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” barked Colonel Kabanov, challenging the others with his
intense stare. “I’m the White Boar and I’m still in command of this regiment. You’ll damned well
do as I say, all of you.”
“Orders, sir,” said Lieutenant Maro. “What are your orders?”
“Get the bloody prisoner down for a start,” snapped Kabanov, pointing a shaky finger at
Gusseff. The man hung from the upturned seat into which he was still firmly strapped. Gusseff
didn’t even look at them. He simply sat upside down, his legs dangling in front of his chest, his
expression as blank as a servitor.
“I’ll get him down,” said Lieutenant Kuritsin. He stepped over with his knife drawn and cut the
prisoner’s ropes. Sebastev would have let the rebel drop to the ground, but that wasn’t Kuritsin’s
way.
“Do you pity him, Rits, wondered Sebastev? After what he did at Nhalich? Broken-minded or
not, this man turned from the Emperor’s light. How can anyone pity him?
Kuritsin looked up at Sebastev, almost as if he’d heard the captain’s thoughts. “If we’re beyond
the flames, sir, we’d better get moving. For all we know, the orks might have noticed us already.”
Colonel Kabanov spoke. “Get your kit on, all of you. I want that hatch open at once. Sergeant
Samarov, join us outside please.”
There was no answer from the colonel’s driver. “Sergeant, did you hear me?”
Sebastev moved forward towards the driver’s compartment. What he saw made his shoulders
drop. Sergeant Samarov’s blackened body hung upside down. Small tongues of flame still fed on his
flesh and clothes. The plex window of the forward view-port had cracked and broken in the heat of
the crossing. Even while he was burning alive, the Vostroyan driver had pressed on, guiding their
Chimera through to the other side. Sebastev had never heard the man scream once. He had died like
a true Firstborn, and he had saved them.
“Samarov is gone. If we make it though this, I want him put forward for the Honorifica
Imperialis.”
Colonel Kabanov’s jaw clenched as he struggled with his sadness. Samarov had served as his
driver for twelve years. Rather than voice his sorrow, he faced Sebastev and said, “Open the rear
hatch please, captain. Maro, help me to clean this blood off my face, would you? The troopers
mustn’t see me like this.”
“Yes, sir,” said Maro.
Sebastev stepped to the hatch and struck the rune that should have released it. Nothing
happened. The rune wasn’t even glowing. The Chimera had lost all electrical power. He’d have to
work the hatch free manually. He put all his strength into the effort, throwing his weight against the
manual release lever. The metal lever groaned and started to bend, but the locking bolts didn’t
move. The hatch was stuck tight.
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“What’s wrong, captain?” asked Commissar Karif. He lent his strength to the effort, but the
lever simply bent a little more. “I hope to Terra the damn thing isn’t welded shut on us. Does
anyone know exactly where on this door the locking bolts are?”
Lieutenant Maro stepped forward. “There are two, commissar,” he said, “here and here. Both are
well shielded and made of titanium. If you’re thinking of blowing your way out, I would remind you
that any type of blast will almost certainly kill most, if not all of us.”
“I was hardly suggesting that, lieutenant,” said the commissar sourly. “I’m not entirely sure that
my chainsword could manage the task, but couldn’t a power sabre slice through the bolts? Would
anyone care to try, or are we to sit in this metal coffin until the orks cut us out?”
Sebastev immediately drew his power sabre and hit the activation rune on its hilt. The blade
hummed to life, glowing and crackling with dangerous energy.
“Move back, gentlemen,” he said as he pressed the point of the blade to the seam where the
hatch met the frame of the Chimera and pushed forward. The machine-spirit of the power sabre
protested, changing its hum to an angry buzz as it slowly carved a path through the thick metal.
Smoke drifted up and sparks showered the toes of Sebastev’s boots.
“May the machine-spirit of this great vehicle forgive us,” said Lieutenant Kuritsin.
After a few moments, Sebastev lurched forward suddenly. His blade had punched straight
through to the outside of the vehicle, severing the first of the bolts. The sword gave a last loud crack
as the charge cell in its hilt died.
“That’s one of the bolts cut,” he said. “I’ll have to swap cells before I tackle the other.”
“Here,” said Lieutenant Maro, “let me take care of the last one.” He stepped forward with his
own blade drawn, hit the activation rune, and began carving his way through.
Sebastev moved back and switched the cell in his sword. Maro gave a triumphant laugh a few
moments later as his blade sliced through to the far side of the hatch. The last bolt was severed.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. He pushed the hatch open and climbed out.
As Sebastev followed, he saw that the remnants of Fifth Company had taken up defensive
positions around the colonel’s ruined Chimera. The crump of artillery echoed down the street. The
fighting sounded heavy in the north of the city. Sergeant Basch and Lieutenant Tarkarov stepped
forward to greet him. Father Olov, standing with men from Second Platoon, smiled over at him with
obvious relief and bowed his head in thanks to the Emperor.
“Good to see you’re all right, captain,” said Tarkarov. “We considered using one of the meltaguns
as a last resort, but it might have cooked you all. How is the colonel?”
Sebastev turned to see Colonel Kabanov clamber out from the hatch. Maro had made sure there
was no trace of blood on the colonel’s face, but his clothes still bore telltale stains.
“The colonel is… fine,” said Sebastev. “He’s eager to get us over that bridge. What’s our
status?”
Commissar Karif moved past them, calling for his adjutant. Trooper Stavin had been riding in
the last Pathcutter with most of the other troopers. Now he dashed forward to stand before his
commissar, relief plain on his face.
Lieutenant Tarkarov dropped his gaze as he said, “One of the Chimeras didn’t make it through,
sir.” His voice was heavy with sorrow, close to breaking as he added, “It’s Fifth Platoon, sir.”
Lieutenant Kuritsin’s voice sounded from over Sebastev’s shoulder. “Captain,” he said,
“Lieutenant Severin is asking to speak with your, sir. He… he doesn’t have long. Vox-channel
delta.”
Sebastev keyed the appropriate channel and said, “This is Captain Sebastev. What the hell is
going on, Severin?”
Severin’s voice, when it came, was strangled as if he fought back screams of agony. “Caught on
wreckage, sir,” he voxed, “tracks mangled. We’re really cooking in here.”
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“Emperor above,” roared Sebastev at the lieutenants standing close by. “We’ve got to get those
men out of there!”
“We’re in deep, sir,” voxed Severin, “pulling pins now. Grenades will be quicker. Make it easier
on the… just wanted to tell you, sir…”
“Severin!” shouted Sebastev over the vox.
“And Colonel Kabanov… honour to serve…”
“Severin! Throne damn it, man!”
There was no answer. A muffled boom sounded from somewhere within the wall of flames. The
vox at Severin’s end went dead. Sebastev roared into the air.
That’s no way for heroes to die, he raged to himself. Grey Lady, grant me dire vengeance on the
orks. By the Golden Throne, I’ll visit such a slaughter on them…
All around, the men of Fifth Company shifted uncomfortably. They’d heard Sebastev’s half of
the voxed exchange. With the absence of Severin’s Chimera, it wasn’t hard to work out what had
happened. There were troopers among them who belonged to Severin’s platoon. They’d come
across the flames in the Pathcutter transport with most of the others. As the full weight of the
situation struck them, they looked ready to drop. Sebastev knew how they felt.
That was when Colonel Kabanov stepped up to his side and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Focus,
captain,” he said quietly. “Remember what I told you: the time for mourning comes after the battle.
We have to get across that bridge. Time’s running out on us. Don’t let the sacrifices of brave men go
to waste.”
The colonel stepped forward and addressed the men. “Stand strong, Fifth Company. We’ve got a
hard fight ahead of us. I want you organised into squads at once and ready to move out on my
command. We’ve got a mission to complete for the honour of the regiment.”
As the men jumped to it, the colonel returned to Sebastev’s side and ushered Captain Chelnikov
forward. “How far from here, captain?” he asked.
“Half an hour if we double time it, sir,” replied Chelnikov, “much more if we meet resistance.
And trust me, sir, we will meet resistance.”
“The way I’m feeling,” growled Sebastev, “I hope we do. I’ll soak my hands in ork blood before
we’re done, Throne help me.”
Colonel Kabanov shook his head. “We all feel the same, captain, but it’s a feeling you’ll just
have to get a damned grip on. Our sole objective is to deliver Gusseff. This regiment’s revenge will
not interfere. My word is law on the subject. Make sure you understand it well.”
Sebastev held the colonel’s blistering gaze as he nodded.
“Good,” said Colonel Kabanov. “Are all our men assembled? This is it?”
“This is it, sir,” said Lieutenant Kuritsin. “We’ve got sixty-three men, excluding the wounded on
the top deck of the Pathcutter and the survivors of Captain Chelnikov’s squad.”
“Sixty-three,” replied the colonel. “By Terra, let’s not lose any more.” Though the bloodstains
were bright on his golden armour and the collar of his greatcoat, he seemed to have regained control
of his breathing. His coughing had stopped for the moment. “And the vehicles, lieutenant? The
