“Leaving only the north bridge intact,” said Colonel Kabanov as he wiped his mouth and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. “From your map, captain, it looks like we’ve quite a distance to go once we hit the edge of the city.”
Chelnikov nodded. “True, sir, but once we’re back behind our own defensive lines your vehicles can ride the highway straight up the riverbank to the bridge. It hasn’t been mined yet. We still need the highway to move our armour.”
“How much armour?” asked Sebastev.
“The Thirty-fifth has twelve tank platoons guarding all the main roads towards the bridge. General Vlastan sent out five further tank platoons to support us. They arrived last night. I wish I could believe the general would have offered that support in any case, but I’d say that decision had everything to do with ensuring the delivery of your package, captain.” As he said this, Chelnikov nodded towards the bound form of Patriot-Captain Gusseff. Once again, the man had been tied tightly in his seat.
“I don’t know what’s so important about that bastard, sir,” said Chelnikov, “but Twelfth Army Command is going to great lengths to get him. It’s not like General Vlastan to send armour detachments out from his precious defensive regiments at Seddisvarr. I can’t tell you what it did for morale when our men saw all those Leman Russ tanks and Basilisk artillery platforms rolling over the bridge from the west.”
Sebastev glanced at Brammon Gusseff. The rebel sat staring into space as if in a trance. The more time Sebastev spent around the man, the more unsettled he became. From time to time, Gusseff’s body would shake with muscular spasms that he seemed unable to control. It wasn’t due to the cold, because the shakes were often localised to a single limb. Then there were the man’s eyes, one moment, sharp and calculating, the next, filled with panic, flashing from left to right like those of a trapped animal.
“I don’t know what’s special about him either,” said Sebastev, “but I’ll tell you this: the man is damaged goods. There’s something wrong with him, aside from being a traitor to the Imperium, I mean. He’s suffering from some kind of mental problem.”
“He’ll suffer a lot more than that when the interrogators start working on him,” spat Commissar Karif. The commissar had opted to ride in the colonel’s Chimera on the way into Grazzen. Every available space was needed in the remaining Pathcutter now that Chelnikov’s men had joined them.
“I suggest we focus on how we’re going to get through the ork lines, gentlemen,” said Colonel Kabanov. “The prisoner’s worth is a matter for others to assess. All we need to know is that we’ve been tasked with his delivery. Captain Chelnikov, since you’re familiar with the city, perhaps you’ve got some ideas?”
“Well, sir,” said Chelnikov, “no matter where we try to push through, it isn’t going to be easy. Major Ushenko has fought orks on a dozen worlds, sir. Before Danik’s World he had a reputation as something of a specialist, as I’m sure you know.”
“I know it well,” replied Colonel Kabanov with a smile. “I was lucky enough to fight alongside him during the skirmishes on Qietto and Merrand. Throne, that was a long time ago.”
“Major Ushenko says he hasn’t seen greenskin leadership like this before, sir,” continued Chelnikov. “We don’t know who this ork warlord is, but he’s unusually well organised and consistent.”
Chelnikov pointed to the eastern half of the city and said, “When I left to rendezvous with your company, the orks had already encircled our forces, pressing us back towards the river, forcing us to give up most of the territory beyond the industrial belt. As you can see, this highway cuts through the city between the industrial and residential sectors; that’s where we were holding when I left. The highway has proved an excellent killing ground. It’s too broad for the orks to cross without getting chewed up by our heavy bolter nests, and their vehicles can’t cover the open ground without taking fire from our tanks, Sentinels and lascannon batteries. The result is an impasse all along this road. I’m hoping it’s still holding, but we’re heavily outnumbered and, as I left, I heard that the orks were consolidating their forces for a big push. Major Ushenko believes the ork warlord will place himself at the head of a major charge. If that’s true, it could provide a rare chance to eliminate him. Of course, Fifth Company has other matters to contend with. I apologise for digressing, colonel.”
Colonel Kabanov shook his head. “Not at all, captain. I wish Major Ushenko good hunting. But, from what you’ve said, we’ll have to push straight through the ork lines and cross the highway on our journey to the north bridge. Correct?”
“Correct, sir. It’ll will leave our backs open to the orks, and it will put us directly in the firing zone of both sides, but Major Ushenko has planned a little welcoming party for us.”
“Just what kind of party are we talking about, captain?” asked Sebastev.
“We should follow this road here from the south-west edge of the city, heading north-east towards the bridge. There are ork infantry squads entrenched in buildings on either side of the road, facing north-east across the highway, engaged in a firefight with platoons from my company. What the orks don’t know is that we have Basilisk artillery in the city parks here, here and here.”
Chelnikov pointed to open areas on the map not far from the Vostroyan defensive frontline. “On receiving my signal, our Basilisks will begin shelling this part of the city. It should wipe out most of the ork infantry assembled in the area. If it doesn’t kill them, it’ll force them to keep their heads down, at the very least.”
Kabanov nodded for the young captain to go on.
“A moment later, the guns will stop firing. That will be our cue to race for the open highway. I emphasise the word race, gentlemen. We need to cross the killing ground at top speed. My comrades on the far side can only afford to hold their fire for a very short time. We can’t give the orks a chance to cross and engage at close quarters. As for our crossing, I’m hoping the weather will cloak us from plain sight.”
“Once again,” said Colonel Kabanov, “this damned winter is both a blessing and a curse.”
Chelnikov nodded. “Once we’re safely behind our own lines, my men and I will rejoin our company. You’ll be assigned a guide to take you to the north bridge and get you across to Theqis as quickly as possible.”
Colonel Kabanov scrambled for his handkerchief again and began spluttering into it. Sebastev spoke on his behalf. “Thank you, Captain Chelnikov. So long as the artillery barrage clears our path, it sounds like we’ve every chance of getting through.”
“By the Emperor’s grace,” said Commissar Karif. “Let us hope the balance of the fighting hasn’t shifted in the time you’ve been away, captain.”
Chelnikov turned to face the commissar. “I fear the same thing, but I can assure you that our orders from Seddisvarr left no doubt concerning the general’s commitment to receiving your prisoner. My company has been ordered to lay down their lives, if necessary, to ensure that this man reaches Twelfth Army Command. You should have heard Major Ushenko’s reaction to that. We’ve got men from the underhives in our company who’d never heard language like that.”
“I can understand the major’s feeling well, captain,” said Sebastev. “Not one of my troopers is stupid enough to believe the corridor back to Theqis would have been kept open for us if we hadn’t secured the prisoner in Nhalich. The Emperor smiled on us that day.”
Colonel Kabanov had regained control of his breathing and asked his adjutant for a flask of hot ohx’. The smell of the salty drink filled the compartment as he drank. “Throne, that’s better,” he said. “Would any of you like some?”
Sebastev felt he could use a mouthful, but before he could say so, Sergeant Samarov began shouting from the driver’s seat of the Chimera.
“I have a visual on Grazzen,” he yelled over the noise of the engine. “We’re getting close, colonel. The city is… the city is burning, sir.”
And so it was. As Fifth Company’s vehicles rolled onto level ground
at the bottom of the Varanesian foothills, reports started coming in from each of the drivers. The city of Grazzen was lit from end to end with raging yellow flames. The thick snowfall and the violence of the howling winds did nothing to put the fires out. The latter actually seemed to be fanning them and pushing them westward.
Kabanov’s command Chimera pulled up at the front of the column. The rear hatch dropped and Sebastev clambered out, quickly followed by the others, all dressed for the freezing cold.
“What the hell…?” gasped Lieutenant Kuritsin at Sebastev’s side.
“Emperor, no!” said Captain Chelnikov. “Are we too late?”
“Very clever,” said Commissar Karif, “incredibly so for a mere ork, don’t you think?”
“I’m not sure I follow, commissar,” said Lieutenant Kuritsin.
Commissar Karif stood with his hands in his greatcoat pockets. “It seems the ork leader needed a little something extra to motivate his troops. We all know that orks are rarely as stupid their reputation suggests. The ork infantry would’ve been reluctant to cross the highway without any cover. From what Captain Chelnikov has told us, the heavy bolters of the Thirty-Fifth were waiting to chew them up. Their losses would have been very heavy. So how does one force a reluctant army to charge an entrenched enemy? Excluding the employment of commissars, of course,” he said, smiling.
Colonel Kabanov nodded. “Light fires behind them.”
Everyone gazed at the burning city. The flames lit the low bellies of the clouds with an angry orange glow.
“Big fires,” said Sebastev.
“Very effective,” said Commissar Karif with a nod. “Not only does it push the troops forward en masse, but it cuts off any notion of retreat at the same time. I’d call that a very strong motivator indeed. I’d consider employing it myself under extreme circumstances.”
“The Thirty-Fifth must be getting hit hard out there,” said Chelnikov through gritted teeth.
“Perhaps, captain,” said Colonel Kabanov, “but at the same time, the fires have pushed the orks into the open.
“The highway you spoke of will be waist-deep in their dead, I’ll wager. There’s still everything to fight for.”
“What about us?” asked Lieutenant Kuritsin. “What does this do to our plans?”
“We keep heading for the highway,” said Colonel Kabanov. “If we can get through those fires safely in our transports, we can keep heading for our own lines along the same north-west road. We may have to fight through the ork lines without Basilisk support, but we’ll be coming from the rear. The element of surprise is still with us.”
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.”
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.”
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 t
he 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.
[Imperial Guard 03] - Rebel Winter Page 20