by Braden Campbell, Mark Clapham, Ben Counter, Chris Dows, Peter Fehervari, Steve Lyons
The landing pad was covered in ork fortifications and firepoints, and the gunships would be hard-pressed to make a safe landing. With all the orks and their fortifications cleared away, the landing pad would be capable of receiving much larger ships, from bulk cargo craft to troop transports. That was the purpose of the Ultramarines’ mission – to seize the spaceport, and open up a way for the Astra Militarum to land their troops directly in the centre of Skemarchus. Already units of soldiers were grinding into the edge of the city, supported by the rest of Third Company, but it would take them months to make headway fighting room to room through the outskirts. With a spaceport under Imperial control, armies could be sent into the heart of the city to begin forcing back the orks on multiple fronts.
If the spaceport was captured. If Chaplain Cassius and the Sternguard could break the greenskin hold, and open up the gates of Skemarchus.
The Stormraven swept over the landing pad. Scurrying orks shot by in a blur as they ran to take up firing positions. A few anti-aircraft rounds thunked into the hull and the Stormraven bucked.
‘Ten seconds,’ Otho’s voice came again. ‘Deploying ramp.’
Donatus felt the Stormraven rearing and slewing under Otho’s control – the pilot had trained with the Chapter’s Techmarines, and his skills on the controls were as honed as Donatus’ behind a bolter. Donatus felt a spark of admiration for him, for though he might not be named in Cassius’ sermons he was needed just as keenly if the Ultramarines were to wrench victory from the greenskins. As the Third Company’s best pilot he had been assigned to transport the Sternguard, the most resilient and disciplined of the First Company’s veterans.
The rear ramp of the passenger compartment swung open. The fuel-heavy air of Skemarchus swirled in with a roar. Brother Felidus hefted his storm bolter and fixed it to the mount on the open rampway, aiming the weapon out of the back of the gunship. The pilot tilted the gunship onto its tail as the front retros fired and Felidus opened fire at the greenkins running for cover, stitching explosive bolts across the stained rockcrete of the landing pad.
‘We’re down!’ voxed Sergeant Tatianus.
‘We are moments behind you,’ replied Chaplain Cassius over the strike force’s vox-net. ‘Heed the word of Guilliman! As it is written, so it shall be!’
The lower edge of the ramp touched down. Brother Adelmo was first out, firing as he jumped down onto the landing pad. Donatus and Tatianus followed, ducking low, Felidus’ heavy bolter fire hammering above them.
The nearest cover was a massive steel docking clamp covered in bright ork graffiti, with a clutch of severed heads hanging from a crossbeam. A grimacing ork vaulted over the clamp and Donatus ran right at it.
A normal soldier would run from the enemy and seek safety, but a Space Marine knew that fleeing was the best way to give the enemy a chance to kill him without worrying about a return shot. Donatus raised his bolter, leaning into the stock as he ran, and let a tight cluster of shots fly. Three bolter shells smacked into the ork, ripping through its patchwork armour of blue-painted steel and detonating inside. The ork’s chest was burst open and the xenos pitched face-first onto the rockcrete, dead before it hit the ground, lungs blown out through its back like shredded crimson wings.
Donatus slid into cover beside Adelmo. Behind him, Felidus was hauling the heavy bolter towards them.
‘There’s too much fire,’ Otho voxed. ‘I’m covering from above, where I can go to evasive.’
‘We wish you clear skies, brother!’ Sergeant Tatianus replied.
In battle the Sternguard served as an anchor point, a walking fortification, that would hold the whole line intact while the rest of the Ultramarines prosecuted the battle plan. Roboute Guilliman had seen the need for such Space Marines to be organised together and deployed as one to maximise their effectiveness, and thus the doctrines of the Sternguard were found in the pages of Codex Astartes. Now they were the first down, the Ultramarines battle line would form.
The other pair of Stormravens touched down and the Third Company Ultramarines jumped out, spreading their fire in all directions, stuttering disciplined volleys at any ork in sight. Cassius landed just as a group of greenskins charged at the Ultramarines, the aliens eager to reap the glory of cutting down the intruders.
Half of the orks died as they leapt the barricade they had been sheltering behind. One was blasted to crimson mist by a burst of heavy bolter fire from one of the Stormravens. Others were shredded by bolter shells. Cassius ran forward, crozius in hand, and slammed into the lead ork.
The greenskin was an oversized brute clad in armour scraps and tattered xenos hides. Its left forearm had been replaced with a huge claw with blades like a set of industrial shears. The claw jabbed forwards and Cassius met it with his crozius. The weapon’s power field discharged and the claw shattered, its blades spinning off, broken and scorched. The ork bellowed and Cassius rammed a fist into its mouth, splintering its teeth.
Cassius brought the crozius up into the ork’s ribs. Another greenskin tried to get behind the Chaplain but the Ultramarines were spreading out around Cassius and one of them put a bolter round through the ork’s spine. Cassius tore the crozius out again, bringing entrails and shards of broken rib with it, then slammed the weapon down to hit right between the huge ork’s eyes.
Donatus heard the cheer that went up from his battle-brothers as the front of the ork’s face caved in. It slumped to its knees, and Cassius smashed the crozius into the side of its head. The recharged power field discharged again and the upper half of the ork’s skull was obliterated, spilling brains like wine from a chalice.
More anti-air fire was streaking overhead, dangerously low. It was too high to threaten the Ultramarines on the ground but the Stormravens were in danger of being picked off. The pilots took them up higher where they could weave out of the orks’ gunsights and support with strafing runs from the air. The Ultramarines made for the cover near the Sternguard, continuing to fire on the few orks that showed themselves.
‘He could have stood back and let the bolters take those greenskins down,’ said Donatus. ‘No need to risk himself.’
‘But then, what would we have to cheer?’ replied Adelmo.
Cassius ran over to the Sternguard. Donatus saw he was already liberally spattered with orkish gore. ‘Sergeant Tatianus! We have our foothold. Now we must exploit it.’
‘Your plan?’ asked Tatianus.
‘We must not lose momentum. Keep pushing forward. Advance and sweep the greenskins from this spaceport.’
‘If we establish a firebase here then we can capture the spaceport point by point,’ said Tatianus. ‘Use our heads. Break them down a piece at a time, capture the pad then move on methodically. If we charge ahead we could become surrounded.’
‘Hold back, and become swamped with reinforcements? The Codex is clear, sergeant. We must not hand the enemy the initiative.’
‘Reinforcements are exactly what we should be worried about, Chaplain,’ Donatus interjected. ‘If we are caught in the open when they arrive, we will be done for, and we are fools if we think the greenskins do not have them close to hand.’ He pointed over the steel bulk of the docking clamp, towards the far edge of the landing pad past control towers and refuelling stations. ‘See? That factorium is lit up. It’s at full capacity, I can feel its fires from here. The orks have had weeks to build their war machines. The Sternguard tactic is sound in this situation, Chaplain: win each patch of ground and ensure we are not exposed to the counter-attack.’
‘You speak out of turn, brother,’ said Cassius. ‘I am the commander of this strike force. I know the Codex as well as any here and it is Guilliman’s own fury that will win this battle, not a slow and tortuous advance that invites the greenskins to strike back.’
‘It only takes a single bullet to turn a battle,’ said Donatus. ‘A round well placed can do what all our anger cannot. Find the right target and the greenskins will crumble.’
‘Then until you find that targ
et, brother,’ replied Cassius, ‘this battle will be fought my way.’
The Chaplain turned to the Ultramarines sheltering in the cover of the docking clamp, sniping with their bolters at the greenskins trying to outflank them. ‘Brethren! With fury and steel the greenskin shall be swept aside! Give them not one second to gather their strength! With me, brothers, and show these vermin what rage burns in the sons of Macragge! Charge!’
Cassius jumped up onto the leg of the docking clamp, and for a moment he was silhouetted against the fires of the forge across the landing pad. The Ultramarines followed him, vaulting out of cover and breaking into a run as Cassius led the way.
‘Damn,’ spat Tatianus. ‘Sternguard! Advance and support!’
The Sternguard followed the bulk of the force out of cover. The landing pad was an open space of battered rockcrete broken up by makeshift orkish defences. Some were barricades of fuel drums and rubble, others were based around the control towers and the structures that studded the landing pad. The cityward side was bounded by an enormous foundry, a glowering fortress that flared orange in all its windows and cavernous doorways. It was bad ground to take, covered by overlapping fields of fire from the orkish strongpoints. As the Ultramarines charged, the ork gunfire fell, spraying showers of rockcrete shrapnel, pinging off power armour and streaking from all sides.
One of the Stormravens swooped low, anti-aircraft fire pinging off its hull. It strafed one of the ork fortifications, knocking broken xenos bodies from the jagged battlements before a heavy burst of fire threw sparks from its underside and forced the pilot to pitch the nose upwards and out of the firing arc.
Cassius led the charge into the ork stronghold, using the seconds the pilot had bought him to take the fight to the orks inside. He scrambled up the welded metal detritus that formed the front wall, the bolter fire of the Ultramarines behind him raking across the battlements. One of the Ultramarines carried a missile launcher and he dropped to one knee, took aim and loosed a missile that ripped a sizeable bit out of the top of the fortifications. Cassius swung himself up into the gap and Donatus could see the flash of the Chaplain’s crozius as he battled the orks inside.
‘Watch our backs!’ ordered Tatianus as the Ultramarines followed the Chaplain onto the battlements. Donatus glanced behind them to see a cadre of orks running from between cover, hoping to leap on the Ultramarines with cleavers and cutting weapons that looked like oversized welding torches.
Donatus raised his bolter. He didn’t have time to swap ammunition – regular bolter shells would do. Eight or nine orks were in the force charging at the Sternguard and if they got among the veterans they could overwhelm them.
Donatus fired into the fuel tank one of the cutter-armed orks carried on its back. The tank exploded and liquid fire blossomed orange, flowing over the orks. Donatus let loose another volley, cutting down an ork who had avoided the worst of the flames, as Felidus’ heavy bolter hammered fire into the remainder.
‘Keep moving,’ voxed Sergeant Tatianus. ‘Don’t get left behind.’
In a few moments the Ultramarines had seized the position. The orkish fortification was little more than a ring of makeshift barricades surrounding a noisome fire pit and heaps of bedding. It wouldn’t hold. Donatus ran up to the front side and joined the Ultramarines that were finding loopholes and firing positions among the wreckage.
‘Brother Otho!’ voxed Donatus. ‘What do you see?’
‘It’s like an ants’ nest,’ replied Otho through the crackle of the vox. From his point of view in the Stormraven, the Third Company pilot could see far more than the battle-brothers on the ground. ‘Greenskins swarming everywhere. I can’t come down low, they’ve got Throne knows what mounted around the control tower. Talon Beta has already lost an engine.’
Donatus recognised the call sign of Cassius’ second Stormraven. The three gunships overhead were being mauled by the greenskins’ anti-aircraft fire, and were struggling to keep up with the Ultramarines as they charged across the landing pad.
‘Watch the forges,’ replied Donatus. ‘Stay high.’
‘We cannot tarry here, brethren,’ said Cassius. Donatus guessed a fair portion of the ork corpses littering the fortification had been claimed by the Chaplain’s crozius and combi-flamer. ‘These walls were put up by greenskins and they will not hold.’
‘Take down those guns,’ said Donatus. ‘We cannot afford to lose our gunships.’
‘Such aggression from the Sternguard?’ asked Cassius. ‘Are we not to burrow in and wait for the orks to come to us?’
‘I have no less fury than you, Chaplain,’ replied Donatus. ‘Now you have brought us this far, we cannot go back. We must press on, for all it costs us.’
‘Brother Donatus!’ snapped Sergeant Tatianus. ‘This is not the time to–’
Tatianus’ words were cut off by the screech of a rocket exhaust. A split second later the explosion hit home, the shockwave hammering into Donatus as the side of the stronghold caved in. Flame burst and the blackness of churned rubble ripped over the Ultramarines, blotting out the reddish light of the weak sun.
Donatus came to rest on his back, his autosenses fighting against the sudden darkness. Edged in the greys of his augmented darkvision, he could see a good chunk of the fortification had been blown in, scattering welded plates everywhere. Ultramarines were picking themselves up and running to take aim at this new threat. Donatus got to his feet, running through the mantra he had been sleep-taught as a novice to check himself for injuries. No bones broken, no organs torn, no penetrative wounds piercing his power armour. He still held onto his custom bolter, and held its preysense scope up to his eyepiece.
A short way across the landing pad was an orkish ammunition dump, well-stocked with crates of rockets and bullets. The scope painted bright reds and yellows around the muzzles of the heavy weapons toted by the orks holding the ammo dump – rocket launchers and a heavy shoulder-mounted cannon, scavenged and repurposed from the defenders of Skemarchus who had fallen when the orks invaded. The Ultramarines’ charge had brought them into the range of the greenskins’ big guns and now the cannon opened up, raking the breached fortification with massive-calibre fire.
Sergeant Tatianus ran through the eruptions of fire, through the smoke and darkness. ‘Leave this place!’ ordered the sergeant. ‘Eastwards, and find cover!’
Donatus followed Tatianus and the other Ultramarines leaving the shattered fortification. Another rocket streaked by, wayward in its aim, detonating against the far side of the fortification and throwing another shower of dust and wreckage into the air. Debris boomed and clattered down. Donatus paused to help another Ultramarine who was supporting a battle-brother – the wounded warrior’s leg was twisted at an unnatural angle and even through the darkness Donatus could see the sheen of blood pouring from his knee.
The three made it to the nearest cover looming through the dust cloud – a series of raised coolant pipelines, already well ruptured by gunfire. Viscous coolant sprayed from the pipes and pooled around Donatus’ feet. The wounded Ultramarine was placed against a solid-looking pipe junction.
Donatus had familiarised himself with the other battle-brothers in the strike force. The wounded Space Marine was Brother Scevola, being aided by Brother Vibius. Both were from Squad Senekus of the Third Company.
‘It’s just my leg,’ growled Scevola. ‘Two good trigger fingers and a mouth to curse the enemy, that’s all I need.’
Half the strike force, including the Sternguard, had made for the cover of the pipe junctions. The other half had headed in the opposite direction to a series of half-collapsed machine sheds. Among racks of decommissioned shuttle parts, Cassius and the rest of the strike force were organising themselves into a firing line to suppress the orks still firing rockets and cannon fire at them.
‘We still need to take that control tower,’ said Donatus as he rejoined the Sternguard. He saw Brother Adelmo was not with them. The Deathwatch veteran had been separated from the Sternguard s
quad, or had fallen.
‘And silence those damned big guns,’ said Felidus.
‘Cassius!’ Tatianus shouted into the vox as another volley of rockets howled overhead. ‘We cannot push forwards. The enemy has the field and he can bring fire on us from every direction. Consolidate and move by sections, one side covering the other. If we charge on, we’ll be torn apart.’
‘The greenskins will swamp us if we hold back,’ came Cassius’ reply. ‘It is the fury of Macragge that will win this day!’
‘If the orks try to cut us off then we will mow them down,’ replied Tatianus. ‘If we charge again, we will leave the fury of Macragge bleeding on this landing pad!’
Donatus glanced up above the coolant pipes. More gangs of orks were sprinting across the open space, hauling heavy weapons and ammo boxes towards the command tower and ammo dump. The Ultramarines could use the split in their force to their advantage, one side moving to the next patch of cover while the other suppressed the worst of the ork fire with bolter volleys. It would be tough and bloody work for every step, but it was better than charging across the expanse of rockcrete again.
But Donatus was not in command. He was not the spiritual guardian of the Ultramarines, with a duty to preserve the wellbeing of their souls as well as secure victory. This was not his choice to make.
‘If the greenskins want blood,’ Cassius cried out, transmitting to the whole strike force, ‘then we shall give it to them! We shall leave this whole place swimming in it! But it is not the blood of mankind that flows this day. Drown Skemarchus in xenos blood! Smother its fires with greenskin flesh!’ The Chaplain leapt clear of the cover of the machine-shops, the volleys of ork gunfire leaving him untouched as if he were charmed.
Donatus admitted to himself it was inspiring to see the young warrior leading from the front, brandishing his crozius like a standard raised high for the rest of the Ultramarines to follow. He could feel those fires in himself stoked by Cassius’ example, too, in spite of all the passages in the Codex exhorting him to stay calm on the battlefield.