by Martin Allen
“Yes, you may be excused”
Lieutenant Gratius realised that this assignment was a direct call to action and for some reason he would be called upon to fight a major action on Sol Invictus itself. This was an eventuality unheard of prior to the ascension of the Empire. Gratius could understand the possibility of a military action of this type on an outlying world, or even a relatively “safe” world which had been getting ideas above its station, but Sol Invictus itself? Why would the planet seek to cede from the Empire which it ruled?
Sergeant Curtius noticed the troubled look on Lieutenant Gratius’ face when he returned from the briefing and immediately called the squad to attention. He knew even before the Lieutenant spoke that what was coming was bad, very bad. The squad had been lucky so far - no major actions and it was well overdue for a test to its mettle. He had wished it would take a little longer so he could instil into his squad some of the “unofficial” survival techniques he had learned in order to deal with eventualities in the field. Now this would have to be done ad-hoc in the field. Ideally the squad would have had a minor battlefield role first, then graduate to a central venture. Sergeant Curtius dreaded to think what months of fighting in a barely concealed foxhole would do to this squad and what that meant to his survival chances.
As the briefing unfolded every mouth in the squad hung open further and further, they too were astounded by the possibility of action on Sol Invictus itself. Prisoner transportation had been done by the squad before, so that was not in itself a worry, but the sheer scale of the operation was unprecedented. The mention of the target, brought but one worried question.
“Sir? We’re going to destroy a target on Sol Invictus, Sir?” The query came from Servillius Cornicen, his voice warbling as the treble came to his tone.
The question was answered and the real gasps came when the level of armament was detailed. The Squad consisted of 1 Lieutenant, 1 Sergeant to whom reported two Corporals, each of which had 2 Vice-Corporals reporting to them. To each Vice- Corporal were assigned 2 Sectios (one of which to each Vice-Corporal had a heavy weapons specialist assigned). Each Sectio numbered 9 men with the exception of the ones with heavy weapons specialists which numbered 10. Each Sectio would be equipped with 2 long range suppressed sniper rifles, 5 suppressed assault style rifles, 2 heavy ground based machine guns which would have to be dug in before use, and a missile launcher. The heavy weapons specialists would carry a Plasma Cannon, which fired a superheated ball of plasma that exploded on contact and travelled faster than the speed of sound. The Vice-Corporals, Corporals, Sergeant and Lieutenant would all carry suppressed assault rifles with energy ammunition dispensers as well as hard rounds. All side arms would be suppressed. In addition, all personnel would carry combat knives, grenades, mines, demolition explosives, riot batons or cattle prods and tazers. Each Corporal would be assigned an armoured personnel carrier, which would alternate carrying the two Sectios assigned to the Corporal.
“Sir, are we starting a war on the Empire itself?” asked Sergeant Curtius in private after Lieutenant Gratius had completed the briefing.
“I know no more than I have already told the men, I have merely tried to plan for the worst, I, as I know you do, plan to bring as many of my men back from this alive. The presence of an Investigator means that a surgical strike against a specific target is unlikely therefore we must plan for overwhelming firepower. I know we will be supported by a number of Leviathan class tanks and aerial support from bases on-route. This means that this is a major action but I have been given no Intel on what we may face. I do not intend to enter into a protracted military involvement while the squad is equipped only for scout missions.”
“But sir, the amount of demolitions explosive alone could bring down most of a city; do we really need all that for one target? Especially as the Black Guard will be dealing with the target itself?”
Lieutenant Gratius rested his head in his hands, “It was ‘advised’ by the Investigator. I feel this target many be troublesome at best. The escort duties alone will tax the capabilities of the men and there is the threat from insurgents seeking to free the prisoners.”
“But who would dare attack the Empire on Sol Invictus itself? They cannot get through the Transportation Hub without clearance or come through with weapons; Sol Invictus is the most secure planet in the Empire. Why would they even bring prisoners here?”
“We cannot escape the possibility that the prisoners are from Sol Invictus, and that is why the mission is classified. Think where the convoy of prisoners starts, miSra, in that area alone there are the sites of many of the old-world religions, some of which have never been fully eradicated. The wars in that area prior to the rise of the Empire mean that there is the possibility of arms caches throughout our route which may have been uncovered by insurgents hoping to free movement members or friends and family who have been captured. The terrain is inhospitable at best in many places. Remember it took humanity thousands of years to leave the African continent and even then only a few managed it prior to the invention of proper logistics or seaworthy vessels.”
“I don’t like it Sir. It smells all kinds of wrong.”
Amatius Balbus left the briefing to collect his equipment excited and not a little afraid. Would he be found wanting in this action for the glory of Invictus? This was what he had always wanted, a chance to prove himself in the service of the Empire. Had not Invictus heard his prayers, not only for a major action in which he could distinguish himself but also for the souls of his squad mates. The involvement of the Investigator had guaranteed that they would all attend the services at the Temple. Even should he perish Balbus knew that his soul would be deemed worthy for that one service, for he had committed no sin. He wandered back to his bunk with his equipment humming one of the more upbeat hymns about sacrifice for the greater good of the Empire.
“You can stop humming that right now; we’ll get enough of it in Temple tonight,” muttered Gabinius Gurges, a Halberdier in the first Sectio. Balbus was in the forth Sectio, which provided cover for the others, not having a heavy weapons specialist like the 1st and 3rd Sectios.
Balbus was disappointed that this opportunity to shrive their souls was so easily dismissed by his comrades; surely they could see it was for their benefit? That this would fortify their arm against the ungodly if they were found worthy in the eyes of Sol Invictus? How could they dismiss the affection of such a power in the universe which would also lead them to live better and more purposeful lives? The ingratitude wounded him.
Gurges had always hated true believers; they would evangelise and ram their worthless beliefs down his throat and all he could do was take their insufferability. If he did not they would undoubtedly report him to the Trado of Doctrina, the Investigator arm of the Empire, and be committed to the pyres; for even his service in the guard would not save him from that. It was a pity; he had hoped to see if there were any sheltered females on this planet looking to annoy their parents by entertaining his affections. The mere sight of a lowly Halberdier in the bed of middle-class girl would send a father into apoplexy, an event many girls with chips on their shoulders secretly wanted to occur. There was also the chance that many of the items in his personal belongings, discretely acquired, could fetch a good price on Sol Invictus, given the inflation between here and the outer reaches of the Empire. Sol Invictus did not produce enough to support the appetites of the planet, the raw materials having been leeched generations ago. The outer worlds now provided all but a few essentials for the consumption of the Capital planet; this meant that directly sold items from the outer worlds would be sold for many times their original worth. The best commercial opportunity of his military career and he had to waste it sitting in a Temple. The priests were the worst type of scoundrels, demanding a “Temple” discount for anything he wished to sell them, that discount could be as much as 75%. He would not make much of a profit that way. Perhaps he would have the opportunity either en-route or after the mission to complete his own
personal transactions. Gurges came from a small planet named Artorius 4; this planet had been named after an ancient hero from the island his parents had been born on. Gurges was unsure why the fabled Arthur was such a hero; he had after all led his nation to defeat and ruin and managed to get himself killed by his own bastard son. The sense of honour that pervaded the entire story rankled - as only one character in the story seemed to actually posses any honour and he was thrown out by Arthur. It seemed if you wanted to be a hero and be remembered you had to take what you want. Gurges had applied that self same logic to his own life and become someone who dabbled in a little of this and a little of that, with varying degrees of success. He had joined the Guard in order to get free space travel, a commodity that was entirely out of his price range, despite the savings he had squirreled away. The prospect of intergalactic dealing appealed to the merchant in him and he had enlisted as soon as he hit the required age. The prospect of citizenship would not hurt in his trade deals either. Gurges smiled inwardly as a thought crossed his commercially orientated mind. The prisoners would invariably have secreted various family treasures about their person for emergencies; it was not beyond the wit of man to see that some of those treasures found their way into his pockets, either by trade for extra rations, or simply by raiding the bodies of those who attempted escape. It had been made clear in the briefing that all those who did would be eliminated with no questions asked. All he had to do was get to the corpse first and he could have his pick of what they carried. Gabinius could emerge from this assignment a rich man, as long as he could avoid the worst of the fighting and survive. This was easier for him than many of the other members of the squad as he was a designated sniper and would be stationed in the safest areas of the battle to provide accurate cover fire as the rest drew fire with wild sprays of automatic fire. It was one of the main reasons he had put so much effort into being an extraordinary shot, so he could be as far away from the fighting as humanly possible.
Chapter 4
The Imperial Thunderbird bomber released to General Hostilius’ command for the purposes of creating a breach in the dug-in front line of the rebels exploded showering his own troops with shrapnel, causing screams of agony to ripple back over the com systems he had been using to prepare the assault. They had missile launchers? He had not been informed they had access to such firepower. The intelligence stated that they had assault weaponry and explosives only. He had now lost the only Imperial Heavy Bomber on the planet. To ask for a replacement and countermeasures was sure to seem not only like a sign of weakness but a judgement from Sol Invictus himself. A secondary explosion rocked Hosilius’s secondary bunker as the payload of the bomber reached the ground and detonated. Hostilius checked the command computer to assess the impact.
“By Invictus!” He breathed.
The payload had spread from the explosive decompression resulting from the missile’s impact then rained a variety of bombs down on the very troops that Hostilius had been concentrating for the assault on the rebels.
At ground zero of the crashed bomber the scene was utter chaos. Men devoid of limbs called out from under sandbags and titanium-steel girders and plates. Concrete blocks trapped the limbs of those that had them and craters marked the landscape for miles around. The dead were littered like rag dolls, their blood mingling with the soil to make a grotesque slush guaranteed to make even a hardened soldier retch uncontrollably. The living rushed to attempt to assist those that were incapable of retreat, medics in their white edged armour knelt by those the triage rules deemed to be saveable, giving what aid they were able before motioning to stretcher-bearers to move the stricken back behind the lines for more comprehensive attention. They then moved to the next scream of agony. Incalculable body parts and fragments thereof littered the ground making the going slippery and treacherous, for this was where the Empire had concentrated its troops as a precursor to its major push against the rebels.
General Hostilius sat back from the command computer exhausted. Who-ever had launched the missile attack on the bomber had not only known exactly where to hit the bomber to cause the maximum devastation on the ground but had also known WHEN to hit it, so as to spill its contents onto his troops massing for the attack. No commander would have initiated such a suicidal attack if there were a risk of compromising his own troops in that way. He pulled his service pistol from the holster at his side and pressed it to his temple. When the Investigator found out about this latest blunder, his fault or not, he would be condemned to the pyres of the Inquisition for sure. Then again, the pyres of eternal torment for the crime of suicide could be infinitely worse.
Corporal Aulus Triarius oversaw the loading of the sub-orbital flyer with his two Sectios, as the senior of the two Corporals he was assigned the most experienced troops. This was a double-edged sword. While he would be able to count on his men to do the better job of the two phalanxes he would also be ordered to take the more complex assignments. In this he was grateful for the command of Lieutenant Gratius as he was ever a careful, even cautious Commanding Officer, who valued the lives of his men over a limited tactical advantage. As a career soldier the idea of what was essentially a police action rankled at him. He was used to eliminating enemy combatants, and was extremely good at it. The prospect of eliminating unarmed civilians, even those found to be guilty of various crimes against Sol Invictus and the Empire was outside of his experience and training. It was one thing to shoot someone who was facing you and trying to kill you, but to shoot an unarmed man, or even Invictus forbid, a woman, was another entirely. While his squad was better turned out than the previous day, it was still a shabby sight to behold; Triarius hoped that the Investigator would not oversee such a menial part of the operation personally.
Triarius hailed originally from Pulvia 8, a small agricultural world, closely linked to Sol Invictus by trade links and the citizenry was widely considered to be amongst the most placid in the Empire. Deemed placid and soft, they occupied a warm moderately weathered world that grew ample crops with seemingly little effort from the farmers. Triarius had not been a genetic descendant of Pulvia, but the child of a Patriarchal Guard Corporal and he was proud to have reached the same rank as his father. Life had been fair and settled, for in his childhood rebellions were not as widespread as they had been for his adult life. That was until, while at a wedding at the local Temple, both his parents had been killed by an extremist suicide bomber. The bomber had not been from Pulvia, but a separatist world on the brink of the Empire’s reach. It had never been released as to how the separatist had managed to either obtain explosives or get them through the Transportation network undetected. Being sixteen, Triarius had signed up to the Patriarchal Guard the very next day, lying about his age, determined that no such killing would happen under his watch if he could help it. Blonde haired and blue eyed, he was an ideal of the Empire’s racial purity ideal, containing none of the stereotypical racial characteristics associated with the more troublesome religious movements - except for the Christians who seemed to be as homogenous as the Empire itself, something they exploited shamelessly. He was six foot two and well muscled, but not grotesquely so for he valued speed and the ability to actually hide behind cover without leaving some crucial part of his anatomy sticking out to be shot, or leading to his discovery. At twenty-four years old, he was of an average age for a Corporal, but given he had lied about his age he had more experience than most and had seen heavy action on a number of Hell-worlds that had tried to achieve cessation from the Empire. All had been ruthlessly starved into submission, with the surviving population cast into the pyres of the Inquisition.
Triarius’ phalanx moved to the flyer more slowly that he would have liked but given the weight of the equipment that they carried he was not surprised; he had never been given access to such overwhelming firepower on one mission in his career, not even in heavy actions. The marching speed of the troops would however be accelerated from the point of arrival as rations, spare ammunition and extraneous kit
would be stored in armoured personnel carriers when the squad on marching shifts. The armoured personnel carriers were on their own formidable pieces of equipment and given their high level of composite armour were nicknamed “Crabs.” The fusion reactors in their core provided enough energy for the use of external turreted machine guns that materialised their ammunition, as well as carrying a manufactured supply for emergencies. Their armour could withstand all but a direct artillery strike or a shaped anti-armour charge/mine from beneath. The tyres were run flat, a technology from before the rise of the Empire, but had been vastly improved as the materialisation technology had been wired to materialise entire wheels if they were lost or damaged. There was almost no way to immobilise the carrier by destroying the wheels themselves. There was a vast array of sensors built into the carrier, infra-red, ultra-violet and various other types of sensors Triarius only vaguely understood, LIDAR, RADAR, SONAR and microwave and radio communications all fed into a central computer which could communicate with all other carriers and co-ordinate attacks. Each carrier could in an emergency serve as a command post should central command go dark, enabling a strike force to operate independently. He would feel much more secure when he had the carriers at his disposal.
Finally, when his phalanx had shuffled onto the flyers under the shouted orders of his two Vice-Corporals, he himself moved to board the flyer. The ramp was designed to allow the fast deployment of a variety of military forces, from infantry to vehicles. As a result, it was shallow and given the pack he was carrying, he was grateful for that small mercy. He stowed his kit in the designated holding areas secured by webbing, so that the acceleration and deceleration of the flyer did not sent the cargo flying around the troop compartment. Straightening his back, a couple of cracks echoed out as air bubbles in his spine dissipated, bringing instant relief. The constant demands of portage would, he knew bring problems later in life but this was a small price to pay for the protection of the innocent from the extremists that threatened the Empire.