Annihilation Squad, page 12
‘This doesn’t look fun,’ mutters Brownie, standing just behind me. I ignore him, focussing my attention on the landing place as the metal gangway soars down, clanging against the twisted platform. The Colonel turns and points at us, then heads off down the ramp.
‘Come on Last Chancers, time to die!’ I shout, breaking into a run.
With my boots thudding on the metal walkway, I hurl myself down the boarding ramp at full tilt, following the Colonel into a shattered office building just to our left. Glancing over my shoulder I see Brownie following, the heavy stubber slung over one shoulder, and Erasmus running behind him with loops of ammo belt.
Lorii leaps across a pile of bricks and slams into the wall next to me, breathing hard. She glances out of the jagged frame of a window just behind me, lasgun held ready. The others follow quickly, taking up covered positions in this room and the one next door.
I glance down at the rubble we’re crouched on, and notice skeletal fingers protruding from underneath a twisted metal roofing beam. Putting it to the back of my mind, I scoot forward to kneel beside the Colonel, who’s peering out of a doorway to the front.
‘The orks hold the west quarter,’ he says, pointing off to the left. ‘This is a counter-attack to push them back. I want the heavy stubber up in that roof two hundred metres down the road, half the squad to its right, the other with you circling left.’
I nod and point to Brownie, Erasmus, Kelth, and Oahebs.
‘You’re with the Colonel, straight ahead, don’t slow down,’ I say. ‘The rest of you, follow me.’
Without waiting for an acknowledgement, I put my head down and slide out of the door, keeping close to the wall. A squad of Armageddon guard, gas masks on, trench coats flapping, crosses the street about seventy metres further on and I head after them, running across the road into the building opposite. Finding myself in a large, corrugated-metal warehouse choked with smashed crates and splintered pallets; I head across, scrambling over the debris.
Scuttling from building to building, we cover about two hundred metres in the next few minutes. I’m breathing hard; my heart is hammering in my chest as I crouch at a corner, peering left and right, my whole body tense. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to relax and focus. There’s sporadic firing from our right, and the crump of mortar shells falling not far ahead. To our left, past a fallen archway, a Leman Russ tank smokes fitfully, its tracks thrown, the turret dislodged from its ring. Ahead, a multi-storey building has collapsed across the road, filling it with rubble and chunks of masonry. I duck back when I see a flitting movement just beyond the mound.
Easing my head back around the corner, I look over the rubble, scanning to the left and right. I hear a barked order; it’s obviously one of our squads.
‘Come on, the Colonel will be waiting,’ I say, heading forward at a jog, lasgun held in both hands.
Reaching the pile of rubble, I drop to my stomach and pull myself forward, ignoring the scrapes and scratches from the jagged debris cutting through my fatigues. Reaching the crest, I see three mortar teams huddled behind a sandbag wall, inside a large shell crater. Looking further ahead, I can see more movement, orks massing in a couple of half-demolished storehouses about three hundred metres away. The mortars are laying down constant fire on their position, but it’ll only be a matter of time before the orks take their chances and head forwards.
Scrambling over the rubble, bricks and crumbling mortar cascading down over my boots, I make my way over to the mortar squad. Their sergeant glances around at the noise, laspistol ready, and then relaxes when he sees us. It’s at that moment that I dearly wish we had a comms-set to communicate with the Colonel, or somehow find out what’s going on. Looking down the side street to the right, I can see the position of the others, the nose of the heavy stubber poking out from a large crack in the wall on the third floor, the position covered from above by a slope of cracked roof.
‘Wait here,’ I tell the others, and they fan out into cover on either side of the road. I run down the street towards the Colonel, ducking instinctively as a shell screams overhead; it explodes on the far side of the block. Running into the ground floor, I see Oahebs by the door, lasgun resting against the frame.
‘Where’s the Colonel?’ I ask, and he jabs a thumb over his shoulder towards the next room on.
I walk through and the Colonel’s there, talking to Kelth. He looks over at me.
‘We’re down the street near the mortar battery,’ I tell him. ‘There’s a good number of orks ahead, getting ready to attack. We’ll be better off in front of the mortars to give them some protection.’
‘Very well,’ he says with a nod. ‘This will be our fallback position if we need to retreat. Have your team secure the left side of the approach, we will be up shortly.’
I turn and start running back to Lorii and the others, hoping that the Colonel gets a move on. It’ll be over very quickly if the orks advance on us before we have any support. Jumping down into the cracked plaster behind a wall, I glance around at the others. I point to a building across the junction and gesture for them to move up. As I do so, I see a couple of squads of Guardsmen coming up to our position from the rear. I recognise their lieutenant from the barge. Not wanting to exchange pleasantries, I head after the rest of the team before they get within talking distance, running at a crouch across the ruptured ferrocrete.
‘What are they waiting for?’ asks Kin-Drugg, looking at the orks. There’s a fair few of them now, under bombardment from the mortars, splinters and shrapnel scything through the buildings and across the road. ‘They’re getting a pasting just sitting there.’
I shrug, not knowing the answer. I don’t really care, as long as they hang back for a few more minutes. Ahead and to the left is a stairwell, leading up to the remnants of the floor above. I lead the others up, directing them to move along the level which seems to stretch for about fifty metres up the street. I poke my head out of a window, the glass crunching underfoot, to see what’s going on. The sound of orkish chanting carries to me over the distant explosions and rattle of fire. They’re definitely working themselves up for something.
‘Any way up at the far end?’ I ask Fenn. He turns to me, face as white as snow, blinking slowly. He opens his mouth and then shuts it again without saying a word. ‘Come on, this is the urban jungle. It’s just the same, only you’ve got rubble for undergrowth and walls for trees. Pull it together!’
He stares blankly at me for a second and then recognition lights up his eyes. He blinks a couple more times.
‘No,’ he says finally. ‘There is no way up at the far end, unless they climb on each other’s backs.’
‘I want you down there, with grenades ready in case they try to get underneath us,’ I tell him. ‘Have you got that?’
He nods and turns away, to be replaced by Lorii.
‘You’d better see this,’ she says, and her expression makes my stomach knot.
I follow her along a ledge that leads out to the remnants of a bridge that once crossed from this building to the opposite side of the road, some ten metres away. The tangled wreckage of metal lies on the street below us. I can hear a loud rumbling, and creeping forward on my belly, stick my head out to look at the ork position. I can see them swarming through the buildings now, but it isn’t that which is causing my heart to skip a beat.
Grinding along the road is a huge armoured vehicle, larger than a Leman Russ, three turrets pointed at the mortar section down the road. Its iron-rimmed wheels crush masonry and corpses under its weight as it rolls forward, oily smoke fuming from a cluster of exhaust stacks at its rear, filling the street with a reeking stench. Crude banners flap from flagpoles attached to its main turret.
‘Battle fortress!’ I turn and shout to the others. Glancing back, I see the orks pressing in behind it, using its bulk for cover. A mortar shell lands just in front of it, kicking up chunks of ferrocrete that bound harmlessly off its thick hull. The stutter of heavy stubber fire echoes down the street as Brownie opens up, bullets zinging of the metallic beast and cutting through the orks to either side.
‘Hold your fire,’ I say, making myself relax my grip on my lasgun, massaging some life back into my hand. ‘Fenn, Kin-Drugg, I want covering fire against the infantry when we attack. Lorii, ready with grenades.’
She nods, pulling two from the pouches at her belt.
‘Wait for my signal,’ I say, my voice an urgent hiss, as I see Fenn crouching down, bringing his lasgun up to his shoulder.
With a great belch of flame and smoke, the battle fortress’s main gun opens fire. A split second later the wall of a building across the street explodes outward in a shower of steel splinters and ferrocrete shards. The two secondary guns open up, raking the ground line with large calibre shells, tearing more pockmarks into the road and surrounding buildings. Sitting in hatches thrown back, two orks man heavy autoguns, their staccato firing interrupted frequently as the crude guns jam.
The battle fortress rumbles to a stop just beneath us. Orks move forward around it like a green wave breaking across a rock. The main gun fires again and I can feel the pressure wave slapping across my face, only a couple of metres above it. The sound makes my ears ring, as it echoes off the inside of the half-ruined room.
‘Let’s do it!’ I shout over the din, bringing up my lasgun and firing off shots at the nearest cupola. It swings the gun around towards me and bullets rattle along the brickwork just below me, causing me to duck back. After the expected pause when the weapon jams again, I lean back out, this time putting two shots into the ork’s head as it bends down, examining the breach of the gun. It slumps forward. All around me the others are opening fire, a torrent of lasbolts tearing into the orks that clamber around the immense vehicle.
Fire from the others and another mortar salvo join the attack, heavy stubber and lasfire cutting down half a dozen orks. Their bodies are flung into the air by the detonation of the mortar bombs; dirt and limbs scatter across the road and the hull of the battle fortress. Firing off another few shots in rapid succession, I lean back out of harm’s way and check on the others.
Fenn is throwing a grenade underarm into the room below us; it bounces off the twisted remnants of a metal stairway. The growling cries of wounded orks follow the bang of the grenade’s detonation. Kin-Drugg is snapping off shots left, right and centre, and I can already see a discarded power pack next to him. Each of those is good for forty shots, so he’s been busy. Lorii’s close by, crouched a couple of metres behind me, waiting for my signal.
A series of explosions ripples along the wall in front of me, and shards of ferrocrete fly inwards, grazing my face and tearing at my uniform. I look at Lorii and give her the nod. Leaning back out, I rake the second cupola with fire, only to discover that the ork’s already dead, its finger tightened on the trigger, spraying bullets wildly into the air as the turret turns and it flops to one side. Lorii jumps past me, dropping down the metre and a half to the top of the battle fortress’s roof. I sling my lasgun over my shoulder and follow.
Keeping low, we scuttle to the two hatches, readying our grenades. Lasbolts skip off the armour in bright flashes, and bullets scream past within centimetres of my face. With another glance at each other, we each toss two frag grenades in. With a running jump, I leap back, grabbing hold of a twisted bridge support jutting from the wall. Wrapping my legs around it I reach up a hand, which Lorii grabs, and I swing her up.
Below us, as we hurl ourselves behind the shattered wall, the grenades detonate. Shrapnel scythes through the interior of the battle fortress. The secondary guns fall silent and the huge tank begins to lurch forwards again. I guess the driver has either died at the controls or has decided it’s better to keep moving. The main gun booms out again, the shot sailing high into the distance, the gunner’s aim spoiled by the sudden movement. If it gets away, it’ll roll over the position at the end of the road with no trouble.
‘Again?’ says Lorii and I nod, pulling another grenade from my belt.
‘Kin-Drugg, get your arse over here, and give me your grenades!’ The ex-grav chuter pulls back from the edge of the floor where he’s been firing down into the orks, and legs it towards me, keeping his head down. I see that he’s limping, blood streaming from his right leg.
‘It’s no bother,’ he says between gritted teeth, noticing the line of my gaze. He hands me a grenade and shrugs. ‘It’s the only one I’ve got left.’
He makes his way back to his firing post and pulls his lasgun round. A second later, the ferrocrete explodes underneath him, and a whole section of the floor gives way with a crash and the screech of torn reinforcing rods. He’s alright though, I can hear him shouting and shooting. Fenn glances down and then jumps over the edge after him.
‘Looks like we’re going downstairs then,’ I say to Lorii, scuttling out onto the remnants of the bridge and then leaping down onto the top of the battle fortress as it crawls forwards. An ork sticks its head up through the nearest cupola and I ram my boot into its face as Lorii moves past, headed for the front of the tank. I slam the hatch shut, and then drop to my stomach as a bullet grazes my left shoulder. Crawling forwards, I hang over the edge of the track guards.
The clanking of wheels deafens me, but I see an air grille just to my left and smash it in with the butt of my lasgun. Throwing the grenade inside, I leap away, flattening myself against the hull as the orks around the tank fire up at us. Flames billow out of the exhausts and my ears are suddenly torn apart by the shrieking of metal grinding on metal as gears topple off, and the engine is torn to shreds.
The battle fortress slews to the left for a few seconds, crushing orks beneath it, before crashing into a building and coming to a stop. Debris showers down around me, but I can’t stop myself grinning. It makes all those days spent on the ship with our mock tank worthwhile.
The sound of a shell, much heavier than a mortar bomb, whines overhead and a moment later the road just behind the battle fortress erupts, tossing orks into the air and causing the immobilised tank to shudder. As the smoke clears, it reveals a deep crater. I can just imagine the forward observation officer’s next words. Concealed somewhere around here, he’ll be saying, ‘Fire for effect.’
It’s time to get the hell out of here.
Lorii has the same idea, leaping clear and disappearing into the building where Kin-Drugg and Fenn are. I imagine I hear the distant boom of massive artillery pieces, though I doubt it’s true, and I jump down, stumbling over the ork bodies littering the road.
‘Run!’ I scream at them, slapping Lorii on the back to get her moving.
Kin-Drugg has one arm around Fenn’s shoulder. His trousers are soaked with blood from his injured leg. I grab his other arm, and between the two of us, we race towards the Colonel’s position. Bullets skip off the walls and whistle around us as we put our heads down and sprint as best we can over the uneven surface.
Hurling ourselves through a shattered window into the street, we pick ourselves up and start across the roadway. A second later, there’s an immense series of detonations. The building explodes into dust under the artillery bombardment, and the shockwave hurls us from our feet again. For several seconds the salvo continues, the floor shaking under the impacts, the air filled with choking smoke and dust. After the tumult dies down, it starts raining body parts. Green-skinned gobbets of flesh and dark blood spatter down onto the street around us, ash sticking to the gore as it settles slowly.
Kin-Drugg pulls himself up to a sitting position and looks back across to where the street had stood. The buildings are now nothing more than a crater-pocked wasteland about two hundred metres across.
‘Why couldn’t have they done that ten minutes ago?’ he moans, grasping his leg tightly, spitting in pain. ‘Bloody artillery crews.’
‘What, and have the infantry complain they don’t get any fun?’ I say, mopping crap from my face with a dusty sleeve.
I hear a trumpet in the distance, signalling a general advance, and within a minute, squad after squad of troops are pounding down the street to reoccupy the position the orks were in. We sit there as the platoons march past us at the double, gazing around in astonishment. A shadow falls over me and I look up to see the Colonel silhouetted against the yellow sky.
‘Where did all these late fraggers come from?’ I say, pushing myself to my feet and picking up my lasgun.
‘It was good that we stalled the ork advance,’ he assures me, looking across now at the hundreds of men moving into place.
I wonder. There are at least two companies here, I suspect less than a dozen Last Chancers would not have made much of a difference. Still, better to be busy than bored, I suppose.
Heading east across Infernus Quay, we pass hastily rebuilt barricades and emplacements, and thousands of Guardsmen digging in for the next ork assault. We take it in turns to help Kin-Drugg. We steadily make our way up through the centre of the complex and to the higher ground to the east. There’s a medical station about halfway up the slope of one of the hills and we stop there to get treatment for Kin-Drugg. Sitting him down, we all turn and gaze east and north towards the ork lines.
You can easily see them out in the ash wastes, even a few kilometres away. The ground is swarming with them: huge mobs camped out in the harsh dunes, buggies and bikes roaring back and forth. The smoke from the fires and engines casts a pall for kilometres in every direction.
As we watch, something draws our attention to the horizon. They start out as specks, and at first I think I’m imagining it, but as the orderlies come and take Kin-Drugg, I stand there watching the distant shapes. As the minutes pass they grow larger, changing from specks to blobs. To be able to see them at this distance, they must be immense.
‘Gargants,’ says Fenn, shielding his eyes against the glare. ‘Massive war engines, larger than a Warlord Titan. Three of them by the looks of it, plus a load of battle fortresses.’
