by Gav Thorpe
‘We’re one-four kilometres from Indola, vector nine-two-zero-eight. Have you found something, Naaman?’
The veteran sergeant checked the monocular again. Two ork buggies plunged through the grass, bouncing wildly over the uneven ground, their thick tyres gouging furrows in the dirt. He could not yet make out the details, but there was some kind of heavy weapon mounted on each buggy. He rechecked the range and heading in the monocular display.
‘Confirm visual contact. Two enemy light vehicles. Wheeled. Heavy weapon-armed. Location one-six kilometres from Indola, vector eight-three-five-five. Enemy heading almost directly westwards. They will pass us about three kilometres to the south. Too far for us to intercept.’
‘Confirm report, brother-sergeant.’ The dry words of the communications protocols did not mask Aquila’s apparent delight. ‘Have calculated intercept route. No assistance required. Proceed to the twenty-kilometre patrol limit. Will inform you of engagement outcome. Good eyes, Naaman.’
‘Confirm, brother-sergeant. Raptorum est, fraternis eternitas. Good hunting.’
Naaman switched off the transmission and clipped the monocular back into its pouch at his waist. He waved the squad to their feet.
‘Continue to patrol eastwards,’ he told them, setting off from the brow of the hill.
‘Are we not going to engage the orks, brother-sergeant?’ asked Teldis.
‘That is not our duty, Scout Teldis,’ Naaman replied. ‘This is the reason we have been paired with Sergeant Aquila’s squad. We provide the reconnaissance and he provides the mobility and firepower. Would you like to try running after those buggies? I do not think they will wait for you to catch up.’
As they walked down the slope at brisk pace, Naaman felt another ‘teaching’ coming on. Eyes still scanning the landscape for signs of the orks, he took a deep breath.
‘The Astartes are the culmination of the application of precise force,’ he quoted from the Book of Caliban, written by the Dark Angels’ primarch ten thousand years before. Naaman had heard it so many times, and repeated it almost as often, he entered an almost trance-like state of recollection. ‘Through careful consideration of the enemy and the strategic situation, the Astartes commander must conclude the most effective targets for the application of that precise force. It is with offensive, pre-emptive action that the Astartes achieve victory. Central to this assessment must be the gathering of all relevant intelligence pertaining to the enemy’s abilities, resources and disposition. There are many means which can be employed in the gathering of these data.
‘From orbit, starship-based augurs can detect large population centres; the movement of sizeable bodies of troops; energy networks; vehicle columns; and static defences. On the ground, scanning devices can detect thermal, radioactive, laser, microwave and other energy-based signatures. They can detect sound and vibration, even changes in aquatic temperature and air currents. A number of such devices used in concert may triangulate their findings to determine the enemy position. Even the humble tripwire is a detector that can be employed in this information-gathering.
‘But for all the capabilities of these technological marvels, there is a singular truth that all Astartes commanders must accept. This truth is that there is no intelligence greater or more accurate than the testimony of an Astartes looking upon the enemy with his own eyes.’
His verbatim recital concluded, Naaman looked at his Scouts and saw the understanding in their expressions.
‘You, my young brothers,’ he said, ‘are the greatest and most accurate means for detecting the enemy. The Lion said that. When you become battle-brothers and are eager to engage the enemy, remember these words and pay attention to the reports of the Scouts.’
As sunset approached, Naaman and his squad moved northwards along the twenty-kilometre limit of their patrol. They had directed the ferocity of the Ravenwing against the orks twice more that afternoon, spotting two bands of greenskins moving westwards on foot. With the light failing, Naaman signalled a rendezvous point to Aquila and the Scouts set up an observation post on an outcropping of rock. With the thermal scopes of their rifles, Kudin and Keliphon kept watch as night descended. Naaman shared the squad’s ration of protein bars and they took cover from the strengthening wind in the lee of the rocks.
The growl of the Ravenwing’s engines broke the quiet dark just before midnight. With lights off, the bikers steered through the night using the enhanced vision of their autosenses. Kudin spotted the exhaust plumes of the squad as they approached from the south.
‘Squad Aquila, this is Sergeant Naaman. Confirm your approach on our position.’
‘Sergeant Naaman, this is Aquila. Confirm approach on your position from the south. One kilometre distant. Have received updated intelligence on enemy activity. Be ready to receive a briefing on my arrival.’
‘Confirm, Aquila,’ replied Naaman, curious to know what new information had come to light. Perhaps another of the Scout or Ravenwing squads searching the East Barrens had found the ork ship.
It was with some impatience that Naaman waited for Aquila and his bikers. They drove into the shelter of the rocks without comment, and attended to the maintenance of their machines before Aquila gestured for Naaman to join him a short distance away.
‘Greetings, brother-sergeant,’ said Naaman. ‘You do honour to your company and the Chapter with your deeds today.’
‘Master Belial contacted me an hour ago, with some grim news,’ said Aquila, dispensing with the customary preamble. ‘He has lost contact with three patrols on duty east of Koth Ridge. Two Scout squads and one Ravenwing land speeder have failed to report their positions. All three had sporadic enemy contacts throughout the day, increasing in frequency towards nightfall.’
‘Failure to report does not mean our brothers are dead,’ said Naaman, absorbing this sombre information. ‘There is communication interference in Kadillus Harbour, perhaps the orks have some similar device on their ship.’
‘That is a possibility,’ said Aquila. The Ravenwing sergeant turned his gaze to the north. ‘It is the brother-captain’s assessment that these patrols have discovered the location of the ork landing site. Whether due to range, interference or enemy activity, the patrols have been unable to pass on this information. Master Belial has analysed the patrol patterns and believes the ork ship to be located roughly thirty kilometres north-east of where we are. Our orders are to investigate this potential site, attempt to make contact with the Dark Angels forces in the area, and confirm the presence and strength of the enemy.’
‘We will set out straight away,’ said Naaman, stepping towards the others. Aquila halted him with a hand on the Scout-sergeant’s arm.
‘There is something else I wish to bring to your attention, Naaman,’ said Aquila. ‘A matter has been puzzling me these last few hours.’
‘Speak freely, Aquila. I will do what I can to make any matter clearer.’
‘Seeing you and your charges brought back to me memories of my own time in the Tenth Company. In particular, it reminded of something my sergeant told us: notice not that which is the same, but that which is different.’
‘A good lesson, no doubt. It is the breaking of patterns, the irregularities observed, which convey the most information. Have you seen something?’
‘I do not know if it is important or not. The orks I have killed today appear different in dress and armament in comparison to those at Kadillus Harbour. Amongst their usual garb, the orks fighting under Ghazghkull display a preference for bold patterns of black, white and red. The ork corpses I have examined after today’s encounters wear yellow and orange. I do not understand the significance of this.’
Naaman paced for a moment, pondering the importance of this discovery.
‘I have no clear answers for you, but I can add my own speculation if you wish.’
‘Please do.’
‘I am no expert on ork markings, but from what I understand, colours and symbols are often used to denote allegiance. I wo
uld take this to mean that Ghazghkull’s force has assimilated several smaller factions under his command. Perhaps these yellow-clad orks are somehow out of favour with their chieftain, hence why they were left behind to guard the ork ship? An alternative theory could be that having been abandoned by their commander, the orks left at the landing site have chosen to form their own faction and split from the main command of Ghazghkull. Ork influence is enforced purely by proximity and physical action. These orks may well have grown bored protecting their ship and are now heading west in search of loot and battle.’
Aquila tapped his fingers against the back of his other hand as he considered this.
‘I can see no argument why either of these theories directly impacts on our orders. Observations confirm that the remaining orks outside of Kadillus Harbour have been steadily moving westwards. It may be the case that the landing site is no longer contested. It would be reasonable to assume that this movement would quickly peak as those left behind realise they have been abandoned and set off after the rest of their forces. Perhaps it is this peak in activity that our patrols encountered?’
‘That is a distinct possibility. However, we should still proceed with some caution. Orks are unpredictable even in normal circumstances. Given that these orks appear to have no solid leadership, they could be roaming the wilderness at random and the movement westwards only a general trend rather than an absolute.’
‘I agree. My squad will provide a roving support while your Scouts move on the objective. Corvus vigilus. Separation to be no greater than one kilometre, standard high-risk theatre contact procedures.’
‘Confirm. “Alert Raven” formation with one-kilometre separation. We’ll watch each other’s backs.’
Aquila nodded and held up his fist in salute.
‘For the Lion!’ he barked.
‘For the Lion!’ echoed Naaman.
The Scout-sergeant called Kudin to form up the squad while Aquila moved back to the Ravenwing and passed on the plan. The bikers mounted up a few seconds later and were already roaring northwards as Naaman rejoined his Scouts.
‘We have a new objective,’ he told them as they performed their weapons checks. ‘No rest for us. We are heading north-east, night march. From this moment on, the East Barrens are to be considered extremely hostile territory. If you see anything – anything – that looks out of the ordinary, you signal the squad. You will all halt and take cover until I have assessed the threat.’
Naaman walked up and down the line, emphasising his instructions with chopping motions.
‘We keep silent. Watch your sector and trust the rest of the squad to watch theirs. No one is to open fire without my order. We will be moving at pace without lights, so equip nightsight goggles and watch your footing.’
He stopped and addressed his next words to Kudin in particular.
‘If I fall, you are to immediately withdraw from any engagement when it is safe to do so. You will then head directly back and report to our Chapter forces on Koth Ridge. It may be that some squads have already been lost. There is no asset to protect, no objective that needs to be taken and no civilians to watch over. This is a reconnaissance mission, not a search-and-destroy. Should we encounter stiff resistance, we will withdraw with whatever intelligence we have gained. It is vital, and I mean vital, that Master Belial has as much information as possible regarding ork activity in this area. The only way he can receive that information is if you are alive to deliver it.’
Kudin, Ras and Keliphon nodded their understanding. Gethan and Teldis looked worried. Naaman laid his hands on the shoulders of the squad’s youngest members.
‘These orders are precautionary,’ he told them. ‘I have been a Dark Angels Space Marine for one hundred and seventy-four years, the last twenty-six years of which I have spent with the Tenth Company. I have not achieved the rank of veteran sergeant by letting myself get killed.’
The Scouts chuckled at the poor joke but they became serious again when Naaman waved them to begin the march. He fell in at the back of the squad as they set off at a trot, breath puffing mist in the cold air. The sergeant activated the comm-link to Aquila.
‘Aquila, this is Naaman. We are on the move towards the objective. Any contact?’
‘Negative contact, brother-sergeant,’ replied Aquila. ‘You are clear for the next kilometre.’
Naaman called the squad to a halt just after dawn. They had reached the intended objective without further encounters with the orks, which vexed the Scout-sergeant. Ahead, the ground heaped up in a series of increasingly steep creases caused by some great seismic shift in a past age. The slopes appeared clear of enemy and a brief look with the monocular revealed no telltale smoke clouds or other evidence of ork activity.
‘Aquila, this is Naaman. Do you think we have passed through the ork line in the dark? I see nothing here.’
‘Naaman, this is Aquila. We are north of your position, detect no enemy. The landing site is not here. We will withdraw in the direction of Koth Ridge and report our lack of success. There is no secondary ork force.’
‘Negative, brother-sergeant. We will continue east. Better to return with solid intelligence than an absence of it.’
‘Those are not our orders, Naaman! Master Belial commanded us to investigate this gridpoint. We have done so and it is our duty to return and report the lack of significant ork forces. We will receive fresh orders from the company captain. If he agrees with your assessment, we will return and continue further east.’
‘I cannot comply with that assessment, brother-sergeant,’ said Naaman, walking away from his squad, voice terse. ‘It is a day on foot back to Koth Ridge. To return for fresh orders will delay our search by two days. That is too great a window of uncertainty. As the senior sergeant in action, I am exercising my authority to continue the patrol.’
‘Your decision is in error, Naaman. We have already lost forces without report in this region. Master Belial is depending upon us to return with our reports as soon as possible. If further investigation is needed, the company commander will issue those orders. You should make your representations to Master Belial and allow him to decide the best course of action.’
‘We have found no evidence of the enemy, nor any evidence that sheds light on the fate of our missing battle-brothers. To withdraw now is premature, Aquila. Let me make my position clear. I will lead my squad further east. I am requesting your continued fire support in this move, but if you choose to withdraw it will not affect my decision and we will proceed without support. We are the Tenth Company, we are prepared for such operations.’
There came a growl in reply. Naaman did not wish to put Aquila in this difficult position, but he was intent on discovering what had happened to the other Dark Angels patrols. If that meant the Scouts would go on alone, he was comfortable with the consequences.
‘As you say, Naaman. Persona obstinatum! I will delay withdrawal and continue in support. It will not be said that Squad Aquila abandoned their brethren of the Tenth Company. I must insist that you agree to an extension of no more than six hours. If we find nothing in that time, you must concede that there is nothing to find.’
‘You have my agreement, brother-sergeant. Thank you for indulging my curiosity and caution. The Lion’s spirit lives on within.’
‘I will raise this matter with Master Belial when we return. I do not think your behaviour befits the position you hold.’
‘I understand, Aquila, and I appreciate your candour. I will accept full responsibility for my decision.’
‘Good. Now that we have settled this, let us make sure nothing untoward happens.’
‘I agree. I hope that you are right and I am wrong, brother-sergeant.’
Naaman killed the link and walked back to his squad.
‘We will head for that first ridgeline. I want to have an observation post there by noon. Ready for march.’
Naaman glared at the rising ground ahead, as if his stare alone could force it to yield its secrets. Th
ere was more happening on Piscina than he or anybody else could guess; of that he was certain. There were more orks here, of that he was equally certain. He just had to find them.
Two hours on, Naaman and his squad were halfway to the line of hills breaking up the East Barrens. Other than the routine check-in comms, he had not conducted any further exchanges with Aquila, so it came as a surprise when the comm buzzed in his ear.
‘Naaman, this is Aquila. Direct your attention south-east of your current position. What do you see on the ridgeline?’
Naaman took out his monocular and looked along the line of hills from left to right. With the first sweep he saw nothing. Knowing that Aquila would not have contacted him for confirmation without being sure there was something to see, Naaman swept the hill again.
He stopped, adjusting the focus. There was a dark haze rising from behind the hills in the direction Aquila had suggested. It was being quickly dispersed by the strong wind pushing over the ridge, but it was definitely there.
‘Aquila, this is Naaman. It looks like heat haze and possible exhaust pollution. Is that what you are seeing?’
‘Confirm, brother-sergeant. The location appears to correlate roughly to the position of the East Barrens geothermal site.’
‘Another energy plant? What would the orks want with that?’
‘I would not hazard an opinion on the subject, brother-sergeant. It is a confirmed ork presence. We should withdraw and report.’
‘It could just be smouldering buildings, burnt while the orks advanced. We haven’t confirmed anything yet, Aquila. It is only a few kilometres away.’
‘Is there any point in debating this, Naaman?’
‘None, brother-sergeant. Let us go and have a look.’
The comm crackled loudly as Aquila sighed.
‘All right, Naaman. We’ll take the lead, follow us up the ridge.’
‘Confirm, brother-sergeant. We are heading off now.’
The Scouts crossed the broken ground at speed, dispersed in a wide formation, weapons ready. Naaman kept glancing in the direction of the mysterious haze to confirm its location. After they had covered a little more than a kilometre, he called the squad to an abrupt halt. There was something strange about the scattered smoke. He used the monocular again to fix on the drifting cloud. It was darker, heavier. The wind did not seem to have altered, so the greater concentration of fumes meant one of two things. Either the source was growing stronger, or the source was coming closer…