Chimeras?”
Kuritsin shook his head. The heat caused irreparable damage to their treads. Ours is the only one
that suffered a fuel tank incident, but the others are practically fused to the road. The Pathcutter is
still operational, but it suffered heavy damage. It can manage little more than a crawl. Its width
restricts it to travelling the open highway. We’ll be much faster on foot, but that doesn’t help our
wounded.”
“By the saints, that’s grim,” sighed the colonel. “We need all the speed we can get. I want all
able-bodied men moving forward on foot. We can’t slow ourselves down. The Pathcutter will just
have to lag behind. If we reach the bridge and get the traitor across, perhaps there’ll be time to hold
the crossing open for our wounded. It doesn’t give them much hope, I know, but I’d say it’s the best
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we can do for them. Captain Chelnikov, follow Lieutenant Tarkarov over to First Platoon and guide
them out, please. The others will follow.”
“At once, sir,” said Chelnikov.
As the other officers moved off, the colonel shot out a hand and stopped Sebastev. “Listen to
me, Grigorius,” he said in a low voice. “Keep it together. Do you understand me? I know you’re
eager to punish the orks, but the mission comes first. You need to understand that. You’ll be in full
command soon.”
“I’ll do what’s needed, colonel,” said Sebastev. “Let’s just get you to Seddisvarr, so the medicae
can restore you. If you need me to step in for a while, that’s fine, but it’ll be temporary, I assure
you.”
Kabanov shook his head. “You never change, do you, Grigorius? I guess that’s why Dubrin
chose you: stubborn to a bloody fault.”
Before Sebastev could respond, the colonel moved off, calling for his adjutant to get the rebel
prisoner up off his knees and marching alongside the others.
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Day 688
East Grazzen — 15:02hrs, -21 °C
The surviving men of Fifth Company crouched in the lee of a crumbling hab-stack, checking
their weapons, and fixing bayonets to their lasgun barrels in preparation for the imminent order to
push forward. An icy wind whipped along the street, tugging at their tall hats and the tails of their
red greatcoats. Captain Sebastev peered out from behind a pile of rubble that had once been the
building’s south-east corner and scanned the road ahead. He’d never seen so many orks in his life.
The streets were absolutely teeming with them, an impossible press of massive green bodies waving
every conceivable type of blade or blunt weapon in the air. Tattered banners bearing the Venomhead
clan crest whipped in the icy winds. Many of the largest orks wore trophies from their victory at
Barahn: grisly necklaces made of human skulls that seemed impossibly small compared with the
heads of the monsters that wore them. Some of the largest orks boasted bulky augmetic limbs that
ended in spinning blades or gleaming pincers. The roaring and jabbering of the terrible horde
threatened to drown out all but the loudest sounds of Vostroyan artillery and gunfire.
Captain Chelnikov had led Fifth Company up through the streets, heading north-east towards the
bridge with all due haste, but the closer they got to their goal, the harder it became to move without
drawing unwanted attention. So far, they’d been lucky. Ork aggression was utterly focused on the
enemy directly in front of them. The men and machines of the Thirty-Fifth Regiment bore the brunt
of the ork attack with bravery and resilience, but they wouldn’t last much longer. They were being
pressed back further and further with little hope of slowing the orks’ forward momentum.
If Fifth Company hoped to gain the bridge before the orks forced its destruction, they’d have to
break through the enemy lines from the rear and move ahead of the greenskin advance, and they’d
have to do it soon.
As his men crouched in positions of hard cover, Colonel Kabanov moved forward to consult
with Sebastev. “This is it, captain. We have their backs. If we can break through the line up ahead,
we’ve got a solid shot at making the bridge in time to cross.”
“I can’t advocate a simple charge, colonel,” said Sebastev. “The moment they notice us, all the
orks in the vicinity will turn to engage. They always fixate on the nearest target.”
“There must be thousands of them,” said Lieutenant Kuritsin. “If I can raise a nearby Basilisk on
the vox, perhaps I can arrange some kind of artillery support. That would go a long way to clearing
our path. Captain Chelnikov might be able to help with that.”
“It’s worth a try, lieutenant,” said Colonel Kabanov. “Grab Chelnikov and get to work. He’s
with Lieutenant Tarkarov’s men. As for you, Sebastev, I want you to recommend a man to take
responsibility for the prisoner. It may be that none of us get through the ork lines alive, but if even
the slightest gap opens up, I want our prisoner rushed through it and carried over that bridge. If
you’ve got a fast man that you trust, make him known to me now. Lieutenant Maro will continue to
look after the traitor’s case.”
Sebastev didn’t have to think on it for long. There, by the far corner of the building, talking
quietly with Sergeant Basch, was the man he had in mind.
“That would be Aronov, sir,” Sebastev said with a nod towards the big scout. “He’s particularly
capable.”
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The colonel voxed a summons over to Aronov, and the scout jogged over to their position. After
a smart salute, he crouched beside his superior officers. “What can I do for you, sirs?”
“The captain here has rather good things to say about you, trooper,” said the colonel. “He seems
to think you might be the man for certain special duties.”
Aronov grinned. “The captain’s a famous liar, sir.”
Colonel Kabanov grinned back. “Is he, indeed? Well, he’d better not be lying this time, because
I’m about to give you a very important job. This is absolutely top priority, trooper. I need you to
guard the Danikkin prisoner. If you see an opening in the ork lines during the fighting, I want you to
take the prisoner and run for the bridge. This man,” the colonel indicated Gusseff with a thumb,
“must make it to the west side of Grazzen. We’re talking about duty and honour here, trooper, not
just that of Fifth Company’s, but of the entire regiment. Are we clear?”
Aronov nodded. “Like good rahzvod, sir. How much trouble is he likely to be? Is he suicidal?
Will he try to run during the fighting?”
It was Sebastev who answered. “He’s been strangely compliant since leaving Nhalich. I don’t
think he wants to die. So, no, I don’t expect him to give you trouble. You can knock him out and
carry him if you think it necessary, but no broken bones and no permanent damage.”
“You take all the fun out of life, sir.”
“I know I do, trooper,” replied Sebastev, “it’s in my job description. Now grab the prisoner and
get ready. We’ll be push—”
Vox-chatter cut Sebastev off mid-sentence. It was Commissar Karif. “By the Throne! We’ve
been spotted. Ork warbikes coming in from the east at high speed. Get to cover, damn it. I need
heavy weapons over here, now! Colonel Kabanov, Squad Grodolkin is under heavy fire. The orks on
the street ahead are turning, sir. They’ve noticed us.”
The commissar had attached himself to Squad Grodolkin and taken up position guarding the
company’s east flank. The sound of ork stubbers came from that direction.
“Don’t get cut off from the rest of the company, commissar,” voxed Colonel Kabanov urgently.
“Move this way. We have to hold together.”
“It’s too late, sir,” voxed Commissar Karif. “My squad is pinned down. The orks are spilling
down the streets on either side. Wait! I think I see a way out, sir. I’m going to try something.”
“What are you going to do?” voxed Sebastev. “Commissar?”
There was no answer.
“Warp damn and blast,” spat Colonel Kabanov, “we’ve lost him.”
“Squad Grodolkin, respond,” voxed Sebastev. “Anyone from Squad Grodolkin, respond at
once.”
Again, there was no answer.
“Khek! It’ll be a matter of seconds before those orks come round that corner, colonel. We fight
or die.” Sebastev pulled his bolt pistol from its holster and drew his power sabre from its sheath.
“Rits,” he shouted, “where’s the damned artillery barrage?”
Kuritsin looked over. Captain Chelnikov was busy talking into the lieutenant’s back-mounted
vox-caster. “All the Thirty-Fifth’s vox-channels are choked with traffic, sir. We’re having trouble
getting through to anyone. Captain Chelnikov is trying the command channel, but the weather is
cutting our range.”
Orks appeared on the road that ran east, just a score of them at first, boots pounding the black
rockcrete as they raced towards Fifth Company with their cleavers held high. Then, behind them,
hundreds more spilled out onto the road from the adjoining streets.
“Engage the enemy!” bellowed Colonel Kabanov, standing to unsheathe his own power sabre. In
his right hand, his hellpistol cracked and an ork at the front of the charge tumbled to the ground,
headless. “Try to press north. Don’t be drawn away from our objective. We must gain the bridge at
all costs!”
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“For the White Boar!” added Sebastev. His men lifted their weapons into the air and roared.
Then Fifth Company broke from cover, rushing north up the street to meet the massed orks. The
enemy on their east flank came straight on, and soon Fifth Company was surrounded, fighting
desperately for their lives in a sea of massive green bodies.
To Sebastev, this looked like it might be the end of them.
But it’s not over yet, he told himself. If we fall here, we’ll sell our lives dear, by Terra. Maybe,
just maybe, we can open a path for Aronov and the bastard rebel.
As the orks charged down the street, Karif looked around desperately for the best position of hard
cover he could find. Instead, he spotted a dark crevasse in the road, a tear in the rockcrete surface
that had probably been caused by a Vostroyan Earthshaker round during the Thirty-Fifth Regiment’s
attempted defence of the town. The impact on the street had punched a hole straight through to the
sewers beneath. Inky blackness had never looked so appealing to Karif.
“Sergeant Grodolkin,” he shouted. “We’re going down that hole at once. Choose three men to
cover the descent of the others.”
So Grodolkin had chosen, quickly and calmly, and three men had stayed above, fighting to their
last breaths so that the rest of their squad could escape into the sewers.
The orks hadn’t followed. In part, Karif was relieved, but he was also concerned. It suggested to
him that they’d spotted Colonel Kabanov and the rest of the company and had opted to engage them
instead. He offered a quick prayer for the safety of those men as he led Squad Grodolkin along the
tunnel, trusting his instincts, secure in the knowledge that his training on Terrax had prepared him
for almost anything.
He tried his vox-bead again, but communication with the other squads had been lost the moment
he’d leapt into the hole.
Sergeant Grodolkin walked beside him in silence, radiating intense anger over the deaths of
good men. The sergeant was big and broad shouldered, and had lost an eye at some point in his past.
It was difficult for Karif to imagine that this dangerous man was as respected for his beautiful
paintings of the Emperor’s saints as for his combat prowess and solid, squad leadership abilities.
“Those men died bravely,” said Karif. “We’ll honour them at the proper time.”
Grodolkin didn’t respond.
The tunnels were dark, and still stank of sewage despite long years of disuse. Trooper Stavin
walked on Karif’s left, carrying a promethium lamp in one hand and his lasgun in the other. The
orange glow of the lamp threw dancing shadows on the curved black walls of the tunnel.
The heavy boots of Grodolkin’s squad, just six men left, caused echoes that raced ahead of them
into the darkness. Karif cursed the noise, and hissed at them to step lightly. As they pressed forward,
however, the sounds of battle overhead became louder and covered the noise of their passage. Tanks
and artillery platforms could be heard booming and rumbling through the metres of rockcrete
between the tunnel’s ceiling and the streets above.
“I hope the others are all right,” whispered a trooper behind Grodolkin.
“I’m more worried about us,” replied another in hushed tones. “They’ve got the White Boar with
them. He’ll get them through. But I’ve never liked tunnels.”
Sergeant Grodolkin grunted and turned. “Shut the khek up, you two, or the commissar will
execute you on the spot for poor discipline.”
Karif turned and scowled. “Listen to your sergeant. I’ll cut the head off any man that gives us
away to the foe. Is that clear?”
“Rahzvod,” said one.
“What?”
“Rahzvod, sir,” he repeated. “It’s clear.”
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The sound of metal clanking on stone echoed down the tunnel towards them. By reflex, every
man dropped into a crouch with his lasgun raised. Nothing happened. After a moment, Karif ushered
them cautiously forward. Soon, they could hear scratching and chittering sounds from up ahead.
“Douse that khekking lamp, trooper,” said Grodolkin.
Stavin hesitated only long enough for Karif to say, “Do it, Stavin.”
When the lamp was shuttered, it became clear that there was another light source ahead. At a
bend in the tunnel just a hundred metres away, the stone walls glowed softly with a pulsing light that
suggested a naked flame.
Karif didn’t dare speak out loud. Instead, he signalled the others to prepare for an engagement.
Remember your Anzion, Daridh, he told himself. Remember what you read in the man’s books.
Orks can’t see in the dark any more than we can. The noise up ahead doesn’t sound like your
average orks. They’re not sneaky or subtle, but it may be ork stealthers like those we encountered in
Korris. What in the warp are they doing up there?
The Vostroyan squad numbered nine men, including Stavin, Sergeant Grodolkin and himself.
Karif decided their best chance to minimise casualties lay in a full and sudden frontal assault,
catching the enemy right in the middle of whatever business they were about.
Using hand-signed battle language, he communicated to Grodolkin and his men that he believed
the sounds to be coming from ork saboteurs. With more gestures, he readied the men to rush
forward as one, firing on the foe as soon as they were within sight.
The Vostroyans nodded their understanding and moved into assault formation under the
