by Guy Haley
‘We will get you through,’ said Bruta. ‘I swear.’
Exertraxes looked from man to man, weighing what each had said. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We take the pans.’
‘I have these.’ Bruta beckoned his lieutenant, who was standing guard at the tent flap. The man walked over, and unrolled a cloth on the table. ‘Sandscum amulets, made from lorelei crystals. They stop us from seeing the ghosts, very effective. They will offer some protection from the ork witch.’ He looked to Exertraxes. The Atraxian thought for a moment then nodded.
‘Very well, give them to all the men who will have them. I leave it to their individual consciences whether or not to be involved with such… practices.’
‘Go then,’ said Bruta.
Bruta’s lieutenant nodded, scooped up the cloth and left the tent.
‘Perhaps now…?’ suggested Cortein.
‘Yes, yes, the full orders,’ said Exertraxes irritably, and took out a sealed envelope, crisscrossed with warding patterns inscribed there by Sanctioned Psyker Logan. ‘No doubt you have some inkling of them already, that we are to draw the orks into attacking us, sow confusion, attempt to isolate and destroy the ork witch engine while the main group assails the forward quarters of Hive Meradon.’ He said, distractedly, as he broke open the seals, ‘Supposition is ever the sport of idle men…’ His voice trailed off as he read. From outside Bannick caught Ralt protesting loudly about the amulets.
‘…n’t do Ganlick much good did they? No thank you,’ he heard. Then Exertraxes spoke again, bringing Bannick’s attention back into the tent.
‘Ahem,’ said the Atraxian. ‘Very well. As you know, we are to assault the hive surface town.’
‘Our full orders?’ asked Cortein.
‘See for yourself.’
Bannick took and read the paper aloud. ‘“Seek and destroy ork super-heavy walker [Titan//Class 3] designated Gargant.” Nothing new there,’ he said. ‘“Eliminate targets of opportunity. Take and hold workshop Alpha 143. Await relief.” That’s it? Aren’t we going to link up with the rest of the battlegroup? For how long are we supposed to hold out?’ asked Bannick, passing the sheet on to the other officers in the tent.
‘Until we are relieved,’ said Exertraxes firmly.
‘They mean until we are dead, do they not?’ asked Bannick. He and Cortein stood on the hill overlooking the camp, taking the opportunity to stretch their legs. They watched the bustle of men below them preparing for battle, replenishing fuel and munitions from the flatbeds. The tractors and supplies were to wait here, under sandscum guard, until further orders came through. The relief on the faces of their crews was obvious, no matter how they tried to hide it.
‘Probably,’ said Cortein. ‘I’m not going to lie to you. We are to be a valuable diversion and keep their ork witch occupied while the hammerblow falls on the main front. If we are unlucky, then we will all die. That’s war.’ He shrugged, then gave Bannick a tight smile. ‘You appear concerned. I’ve been in tighter spots than this before. You yourself have cheated death already this week, it can become a habit.’
‘Perhaps Vorkosigen’s reading of the tarot is right,’ said Bannick, following the progress of the tech-adept as he checked the weapons of the Baneblade below. He experienced a sudden shiver of unease at the memory of the screens with their identical spreads. ‘Perhaps I am the doom of Mars Triumphant.’
‘Mars Triumphant is old, far older than is easy to understand,’ said Cortein, looking out over the desert. They were dead men walking the pair of them, unable to hold each other’s gaze for long. ‘All things must come to an end, and its time will come eventually. The important thing for us is to concentrate on delivering a couple of shaped lorelei charges into the guts of that ork witch Titan, fry it and the mind controlling it; with that down the brass can concentrate on the rest of the ork army and that device. We can worry about surviving afterwards. Anything should happen, keep your head down, keep your wits about you, you’ll be all right.’
Bannick liked to think he’d become accustomed to Cortein, his morals, his overwhelming sense of duty, his air of command tempered by his concern for and comradeship with his men, his sharpness, but there was something different about him today. ‘Cortein, you don’t think you’ll live this out, do you?’
Cortein turned to look at him, his look black, and Bannick worried he’d spoken out of turn, then turned back to the desert, where the night was setting in in earnest. ‘Brasslock told me that the machines know. They know when their time has come. Before he was taken, he told me that Mars Triumphant was preparing to die. He was very angry on the barge when the orders came through for immediate deployment. He wanted to give its spirit some time to prepare, he wanted to pray with it.’
‘Do you think it’s true? Does she know?’ asked Bannick.
Cortein shrugged. ‘Mars Triumphant has guarded me now for these last thirty years. Everything she does is not so easy to explain by the push of buttons.’
Bannick became aware of the cog nestled next to his aquila. He nodded. ‘Once, I was a less faithful man,’ he said. I did not believe that the Emperor really watched over us all.’
‘You do now?’
‘Not entirely, though more than I did, for certain. But I find it hard to believe that a machine is capable of such spiritual feats, no matter how old, or powerful its spirit. Such superstition is for bondsmen and tech-priests. The Emperor is our lord, not the Omnissiah, but if I can change my mind about one thing…’ He shuddered as a chill passed over his back, and the image of Mars Triumphant, huge and growling as if it studied him, came into his mind. ‘I can change my mind about that too.’
The vox in Cortein’s respirator crackled, message slurred by the remaining static in the air. ‘Cortein! Cortein, come in!’ panic overwhelmed the interference; Bausillak, the Atlas commander.
‘What is it?’
‘Valle sir, it’s Valle! Green fire! His head, it’s burnt up, sir, it’s… Oh Throne! he’s dead sir, he…’ Shouting and the sound of fire-suppressant cylinders being let off crowded his voice.
Cortein clicked the vox off. ‘You get that, Bannick?’
‘Yes.’
‘Damn ork witch.’ He spoke back into his vox again. ‘Bausillak, keep it quiet. You let anyone else know, I’ll shoot you myself.’ He made an adjustment to his vox settings. ‘Epperaliant? Epperaliant come in.’
‘Sir?’ came the commsman’s voice.
‘Did you ask Astropath Valle to send out a message?’ he demanded.
‘No, sir, why?’
‘To your knowledge, has he attempted to contact HQ?’
‘No, sir, not so far as I knew. Orders said no contact until just prior to the assault,’ said Epperaliant. ‘He knew that.’
The bustle in the hollow below sounded suddenly inadequate, insectile, the quiet sounds pathetic in the vastness of the desert.
‘They know we’re coming.’ Cortein swore. ‘Perhaps you are right about Vorkosigen’s tarot, Bannick. Maybe after tomorrow, we’ll get the opportunity to ask the Emperor ourselves.’
Chapter 26
Kalidar IV, Hive Meradon Surface Town
3355397.M41
‘Incoming, incoming! For the Emperor’s sake, pin down that squad of tank hunters before we lose another Chimera!’ Epperaliant shouted over the vox.
The Baneblade ground through the surface town of Hive Meradon, buildings semi-ruinous from the ork conquest, streets deep in sand. Ork defenders assailed them from all sides, but the Baneblade thrust like a spearpoint deep into the deserted settlement, trailing Atraxian Heavy Infantry in its wake.
A torrent of fire poured all over the Baneblade, streaking tracer bullets and corkscrewing rockets ricocheting madly from all over its hull. The giant tank trundled forwards, Bannick dealing out death to countless orks with its heavy bolters, hands twitching over the sticks. Ralt sat in Ganlick’
s old position, collapsing buildings with the demolisher cannon like houses made of cards, Radden up top whooping as he let the main armament fly again and again. A loud detonation sounded, and through one of his gun augurs, Bannick caught sight of a tower toppling to the ground.
‘Exertraxes! Quadrant 4B, our left flank, ork AT squad moving in close.’ Epperaliant shouted.
Bannick swung the left pair of bolters out, raked the building as he went past, sending their mass reactive munitions through windows, forcing the ork rocket teams back, and then they were past; he hoped it would be enough to allow the heavy infantry to finish them off. His gun arrays were cluttered with targets, and he struggled to manage both sponsons effectively on his own.
‘Keep your fire accurate and brief, Bannick! You’re burning through your ammunition,’ shouted Cortein. All of them shouted, the noise in the tank the worst Bannick had ever experienced; without the internal vox phones on his ears, he’d not be able to hear anything.
The super-heavy pushed on. They’d overwhelmed the light defences at the edge of the surface town with little difficulty. Bruta had been correct, the segment of the town facing into the dust sea had barely been fortified. Hive Meradon sat on a scarp, the trailing edge sinking into quickdust land and the Pans, the front rising into cliffs a hundred metres high, the main hive shaft bored right through the centre of it. The main ork defence line was along the cliffs. Although the cliffs provided a natural wall, they fronted hard desert, the only direction from which heavy armour could safely approach. The Baneblade and its small strikeforce, having braved the quickdust to the rear of the scarp, had evaded their main redoubts and trenchlines.
Now they crunched their way through the town. As at Modulus, the surface above Meradon’s subterranean bulk was covered with a sprawl of mostly low-rise buildings, thick, windowless walls sloped against the planet’s ferocious weather. They rose higher in the quadrant they were aiming for, a manufacturing and servicing area for the large foundry vehicles the Kalidarians used to sift the surface sands for lorelei. The factory the orks had co-opted to manufacture their potbellied Titan and heavy walkers was at the heart of it.
The Baneblade flattened small buildings as it went, going right through the larger ones. Sheets of hardened plastics, girders and rockcrete bounced from its hull, shaking the vehicle. In its wake, treading the trail of destruction, men of the Atraxian Heavy Infantry walked, supported by their Chimera APCs, eyes out for ork ambush teams either side of the way. More and more orks were flocking towards the Baneblade, and the forty infantry remaining seemed pitifully few. Far to the rear, the company of Leman Russ battle tanks sat behind a lake of quickdust, operating as substitute artillery, shelling the surface town mercilessly, blasting orks and buildings alike while the sandscum operated like phantoms around them, goading ork buggies, infantry and bikes, luring them away from the town into dust traps and ambushes.
Cortein had control of the forward heavy bolter turret, letting off light bursts as targets presented themselves.
‘Epperaliant, prepare the notification. We are approaching our target.’ Cortein pressed the vox. ‘Cortein to HQ, Cortein to HQ, We are in the surface town, repeat, we are in the surface town. Approaching secondary target.’
Epperaliant sent of a series of encrypted data packets, confirming that the attack was on time and they were in position.
That done, they were on their own.
Below, Meggen laboured alone, supplying both heavy cannon as best he could. Even with two men down, Bannick marvelled at the efficiency with which the crew made the tank work: Radden mercilessly picking high value targets, blasting clanking ork walkers and light tanks into scrap, Ralt tossing the demolisher cannon’s shells into the bases of occupied buildings, Outlanner guiding the vehicle round obstacles that Bannick would never have seen, Epperaliant doing half a dozen things at once, gathering information, sending out datasquirts, fielding and prioritising incoming communiqués and acting as a de facto tac officer for the whole taskforce. Vorkosigen hunted out problems and locked them down as quickly as they arose. They were elite tankers, the best of the best, man and machine operating in concert, and Bannick was proud to be one of them.
They’d come through the dustpans unscathed, the sandscum’s lizards picking out a safe route for each vehicle, their odd senses attuned to the area’s unpredictable eruptions of gas. Bannick had watched geysers carry sparkling cargos of dust and steam high into the air, their range increased by the low-G environment so it seemed the plumes would reach orbit, and he remarked to himself again that despite its deadly nature, Kalidar had its fair share of beauty.
He doubted he’d miss it if he survived long enough to leave.
He reduced a squad of ork anti-armour infantry coming in from the left to puffs of red mist and gristle. No matter how many they killed, the orks came on, firing wildly and roaring, no hope of penetrating the tank’s ceramite and plasteel armour, yet attacking all the same. Bursts of light from explosions and weapons fire flashed through the slit windows situated round the cabin, strobing the dimly lit command deck with dazzling regularity.
‘Steady now! Three degrees left, Outlanner, we’re losing our bead on the factory,’ warned Cortein.
The Baneblade gained a broad square littered with the detritus of orkdom – stinking pits of ordure, crude shacks, slave pens – Mars Triumphant ground over it all, heading to the factory and yard. Behind a high wall, ork heavy walkers congregated like fat lords at a bar.
‘We don’t stand much of a chance against that many,’ muttered Epperaliant.
‘We only have to kill one!’ shouted Radden over the vox, and laughed.
‘Keep calm, Epperaliant,’ said Cortein. ‘Status report!’
‘There are two operational here, three under repair or construction, I’m getting energy spikes indicating two more elsewhere.’
‘Is our main target there, is the Titan among them?’
Epperaliant scanned his bank of instruments, checked the pyskanum equipment bolted to his desk. ‘No, sir. The auspex can’t pin the Titan down.’
‘Dammit! Where is it? We should be able to see it!’
A heavy walker tottered and wobbled as it pedalled round to face the Baneblade, head bobbing comically. Another blew black smoke from its engine units as orks and gretchin swarmed aboard.
The active walker levelled its guns at the tank.
‘Prepare for impact!’ shouted Cortein.
A tattoo of hammerblows rocked the Baneblade as the ork heavy walker gatling cannon opened up. Klaxons blared, sparks flew from instruments. Bannick’s right flank lascannon became unresponsive.
A rocket launched itself from the heavy walker’s left shoulder, lumbering into the sky on a pillar of dirty flame, but Mars Triumphant was too close, and it overshot them, impacting deep in the surface town somewhere behind, its shockwave flattening buildings in a broad circle. Debris rained down on the tank.
The heavy walker lumbered forwards, crushing the wall round the factory yard, and the second followed, both spitting wildfire at the super-heavy tank.
‘We can’t take this!’ shouted Vorkosigen, and shot a black look at Bannick. ‘The tarot was right!’
Radden howled with glee as he decapitated the trailing heavy walker with his cannon. It waddled round in circles, crushing everything about it.
‘There are at least two remaining, Radden, and we have no idea where that basdack ork Titan is! Contain your jubilance,’ growled Cortein.
‘We’re not going to survive this,’ said Ralt.
Light flared. A bolt of indigo energy punctured the sky with a roar as air ionised into plasma. It struck the lead heavy walker square on its flat shoulders, cutting it in half diagonally. Flame welled up from within its guts, and it exploded with titanic violence that made Bannick’s teeth rattle.
Epperaliant looked up, excited. ‘The Navy! Sir, the Navy are on the
comm…’
‘How did they sweep the orks out of orbit?’ asked Bannick.
‘Praise be to the Emperor that they’re there at all,’ said Cortein. ‘Put them over the vox, Epperaliant.’
‘Commander Spaduski of the heavy cruiser Emperor’s Lambent Glory, glad to speak with you, Honoured Lieutenant Cortein,’ crackled a voice. ‘Our main battlegroup is engaging the majority of the ork fleets out in the belt junction. With them out of the way, we are free to strike. Imperator Exultis! Our lance batteries are at your disposal. We might not be able to engage the primary target yet, but that’s no reason for us to sit up here on our hands.’
Cortein spoke. ‘Please, commander, carry on as you were. Target those heavy walkers, we’ll send you precise bombardment coordinates.’
‘On its way,’ said Epperaliant.
‘With the Navy at our backs,’ continued Cortein, ‘we’re in with a fighting chance.’
‘Will proceed. Emperor protect you all, Spaduski out.’
Epperaliant sent data helping the ship target its weapons more accurately, bringing beams of high energy stabbing down onto the factory, obliterating the dormant heavy walkers. Orks came running from the burning remnants of their war machines and the factory. Bannick and Cortein cut them apart with their heavy bolters.
‘Sir, datasquirts coming in, the rest of the battlegroup have engaged to the south of the city.’
A lull in the battle followed as orks were drawn away to face this larger threat.
‘Exertraxes, are you there?’
‘Cortein.’
‘Our secondary objective is accomplished, thanks to the Navy, but we have yet to find the witch engine. With that still operational and the witch alive, the main attack does not stand much chance of disabling the ork device.’