by Martin Allen
General Hostilius was roughly hauled to his feet by two burly heavy troopers as Investigator Celeris stood in front of him. Her head snapped forward as she hurled spittle from her mouth onto his face.
“It would seem that even in the bosom of the Empire, the very chosen weapons on Sol Invictus himself would turn against him.” She spat again, this time onto the floor, “We will have to make an example of you. Let the rest see exactly what fate may befall them should they continue to oppose the will of the divine. I seem to remember, what was it now…” Investigator Celeris paused looking slightly up, as though only mildly perplexed she was having difficulty remembering some obscure facet she had digested from reading she vaguely remembered.
“Ah, yes. There was a story from the unholy texts of the blasphemous religions we struggle so hard against. A method, one I think rather fitting. Nails placed in the hands and feet, with the body in the shape of a cross. Hung vertically the recipient slowly suffocates as he looses the ability to keep his body in a shape capable of breathing. The unholy adopted the shape to remind them of their deceased deity. It seems somewhat foolish to worship a God so powerless as to allow himself to be killed, but never mind, that is what they believe. I think it shall form a fitting symbol of what lies ahead.”
The troopers yanked Corvus towards the door, with no gentleness or care as to his dignity for he was, in their eyes as bad as those who they fought against in the ruins. He was now, and forever, a traitor and unholy, for he had rejected Sol Invictus.
Returning to the present General Corvus, screamed his last agony to the ruins her had been suspended in full view of. The Investigator had clearly intended him to see all that she would do and for all to see what she had done to him. He collapsed down to the final breathless darkness that comes to those that need relief from pain and the trials of this world. The void reached forward to claim he, who had sent so many to its embrace, he who had worshiped at its altar all these years by the gun and the sword. The fingers grasping round him withdrew slightly as shimmering illumination came to ease the pain. “This shape once held a message. It negated the horror of the form, and shone a light into men’s hearts. I remember it; it was one of many shapes I remember. They all had their uses, to inspire and to warn. This shape will, however briefly serve again. Now rest, for at the last thou wert my good and faithful servant.”
Red lights flashed as the claxons sounded alerting Calidius Squad to the alarm that had been raised by Investigator Celeris. The squad immediately hit the deck as one man as automatic rifle fire caused miniature eruptions of dirt near them. Each spread to the nearest piece of cover available to the withering cover fire designed to keep them pinned in place. A number of the children were spun from their feet as they stood up in alarm at the percussive sounds around them. Each member of the squad flinched at the palpable reminder of failure that each corpse became. They could do nothing but hold their position and hope that the children under the care of Balbus would escape the confines of the camp and be secreted away in the backwaters of Earth; for escape through the transportation hub was impossible and only a fool would attempt such a foolhardy errand despite the greater prize of anonymity at the other end of the journey.
“Code Red, we have been compromised.” yelled Lieutenant Gratius into his comm.-link.
Immediately the gunfire changed tack, where before there had been an overbearing inward aspect, suddenly there seemed to be a more universal element. The wisps of dust that had been kicking up around Calidius squad seemed to halt their deadly dance and the Squad quickly took advantage and moved to more secured locations.
“Hold fast, I’ve arranged back-up. Let them clear the perimeter and we can make a break for it.” hissed Lieutenant Gratius.
“How many of the rest of the Squads are with us? We could do with some serious cover if the whole Black Guard are coming for us.” asked Sergeant Curtius.
A grim smile played over Lieutenant Gratis’ face as he answered.
“All of them, Sergeant. ALL of them. They were as sick as we were with the way things were going. We are soldiers; we aren’t supposed to be slaughtering children and the elderly. They weren’t combatants, they were victims and I don’t know about you but neither I nor the other CO’s have ever really been that keen on butchers.”
“What happens next? Do we make for the Crabs?”
“Negative, they can be tracked, and will make easy prey for aerial or orbital bombardment. We wouldn’t last five minutes. We wait and hope we can punch through the perimeter. We have numbers but they have more firepower. It’s the exact opposite of how we normally operate. If you can think of anything that’s ever worked against us in the past, however briefly, I want to hear it, five minutes ago.”
The firing lulled again.
“Snipers up high? Dig in and move with the lulls? We’ve never had to take on anyone who kept moving or maintained decent cover fire. They were always more concerned with defending their homes and families.”
“Good plan, but keep what prisoners we have left with us. We didn’t betray the entire Empire just to slink off into the night with our tails between our legs. Besides if we keep a good chunk of them with us it will hopefully keep some of the heat off Balbus and the rest. We can at least give him every chance at escape. See if we can make it to the armoury, we can then try and arm some of the older prisoners and swell the ranks. They may be useless at anything but cover fire but they might get some lucky shots in.”
The squad held for five minutes that seemed like a lifetime, taking shots at Black Guards that were drawn out of position by their confederates in the other squads. Several Black Guard were felled by shots to the back as they moved to exchange their somewhat one-sided cover for more utilitarian ground that afforded protection from both the front and the rear. The deadly killing ground served its purpose as the crossfire whittled down the numbers facing Calidius Squad. Through the mist of dust created by the gunfire impacting on the dry ground and brittle walls it became clear that there was a gap from Calidius' position to that of the alley, which lead to the armoury. A quick snap of the wrist from Lieutenant Gratius alerted Sergeant Curtius to the new opportunity and the two soldiers, now traitors, made for the opening, trusting their men to follow and provide cover respectively. Shrapnel and stray rounds pinged around them as they ran half-crouched towards the inviting opening. The rest of the squad moved in the patterns they had utilised on the exodus to Rome, moving then firing. The squad as a whole was always on the move, seeking to confound any observer from predicting their future movements and obtain a trace on them.
Sergeant Curtius threw himself into the alleyway in a heap near Lieutenant Gratius as a small splash of red decorated the wall near the entrance to the alley.
"Dammit, they winged me! I never knew those bastards could shoot straight." He wheezed as he sought to halt the bleeding with the meagre medical supplies he had in his pouch. "I bloody hope a medic makes it through all that!"
"Don't worry, the medics have always been good at dodging. They'll get through." grinned Lieutenant Gratius as he moved to help the sergeant. "You, on the other hand, have a habit of getting injured in action. I think that you think that it impresses the ladies."
"I do not. I very rarely get injured," retorted Sergeant Curtius.
"Coruncanius 9, you got shot in the arm, while charging the trenches."
"That was one time. You can hardly call that a habit."
"Hortensius 7, Shot in the leg."
"That doesn't count it wasn't a military action; that was a disgruntled husband."
"OK, Pompeius 11, shot in the arse when you...."
"I thought you promised never to mention that one again, Sir," grunted Sergeant Curtius as a binding on his wound was pulled tight, easing the spread of crimson on his uniform.
"Yeah, well I couldn't resist one last shot, given the circumstances. It's not like I'll get another chance." Both men nodded grimly as they realised that it was highly unlikely in the current sit
uation that they would get out alive.
One by one the rest of the Squad tumbled into the alley, the first to arrive moving up to make room for the later arrivals to dive into shelter. Some carried minor wounds, others slightly more serious, but there had been no casualties. Lieutenant Gratius held up a hand to the children still in the line of fire cowering wherever they could find shelter, motioning for them not to move.
"Can we get a wall to one of these buildings open so they can hide while we raid the armoury?" asked Lieutenant Gratius.
"Not a problem, remember all those explosives used in Jerusalem?" the Lieutenant nodded "Well, I managed to, sort of, acquire some. I can blow a precision hole in that wall there and they can hide in the rooms all along the other side of this wall of the alley."
Sergeant Curtius grimaced as he reached into a small pouch near his spine. The pouch itself was not standard issue and looked like it had been designed specifically to be overlooked in searches. It faded into the green fatigues of his uniform seamlessly.
A wry smile played over the Sergeant’s face “You never know when a small tactical advantage might be needed, and let’s face it they really didn’t need all those explosives for one little city.”
“There is no problem howsoever complex; that cannot be solved with a suitable application of high explosives,” laughed the two men as they both quoted at the same time.
Sergeant Curtius eased his way up the alley past the panting bodies of his men adjusting the shape of the charge he was carrying at the same time. With practised movements he crafted a strange conical shape of the malleable explosives. Stopping at the entrance of the alley, just out of line of sight of the remaining Black Guard he carried on tweaking the form of the explosives he carried. Apparently satisfied, with one fluid motion he darted to the very corner of the alley and slammed the shaped charge onto the outside on the wall, darting back before the inevitable eruption of gunfire ensued.
A small red light blinked ominously in the grey mass attached to the wall, a single red eye glaring malevolently equally at the Black Guard and the children huddled opposite it. Lieutenant Gratius motioned to the children to look at him and made and opening gesture with both his hands and mouthed the word “Boom” as the opening of the hands accelerated. The children moved further into the rubble and the older ones covered the younger with their own bodies to shield them from the expected blast. Blinking steadily the red eye observed the scene impassively but an increasing frequency of beeps came from within the charge as though it had been waiting for this signal to commence its operation.
Red fire, dust and small pieces of masonry sped across the open ground around the children and several of them had to pat out small fires that had started in their hands and clothes. Small rivulets of blood ran down faces and arms where the shrapnel had scored their innocent skin. They all ran across to the newly opened hole in the wall as Sergeant Curtius made a sweeping gesture and pointed around the edge of the alley into the building. Again, although all of Calidius Squad had made it to the alley relatively unscathed, several of the children were mown down as they scampered into the more secure building. Not having been trained in evasive movements they were easy prey for the Black Guard who, now ensconced in more covered locations, knew exactly where they were heading. Small hands reached out of foxholes in agony as the last of their life’s breath ebbed away, stolen by a faceless Empire that sought control as an end in and of itself. Several flew through the air as high calibre rounds took them in the small of the back, the force of the heavy bullets lifting them and hurtling them into whatever obstacle would halt the momentum.
When the last of the children had either fallen or made it to the relative safety of the battered building Lieutenant Gratius called over his command and outlined his plan.
“They know we are pretty well supplied for ammunition and arms, so they probably won’t expect us to go for the armoury this early. They will expect either a punch through the perimeter, where we have already created a weak point or for us to go to ground. Find whatever supplies we can and fortify. So we make a break for the armoury, get whatever arms we can and then move to liberate the adult prisoners. We arm them and then come back for the kids.
Halberdier Valerius, you stay here with Vice-Corporal Ovidius and cover the children. If there are any aggressive advances comm. me and we’ll swing back and repel the advance. We will cover you no matter what; those children as a whole are currently our number one concern. Remember losses will happen and we cannot risk the group for individuals. It will involve hard decisions, but that is the way the cookie had crumbled.
As for the assault, there is currently minimal defence to the armoury, mainly due to the fact the Black Guard were not expecting this rebellion, so we hit hard and fast. Silent and deadly, we use covert engagement rules. This is despite the fact they know where we are and that we are engaged. We want them guessing as to what we are up to for as long as possible. They won’t be tracking gaps in their comm. traffic yet; the other squads are causing too much noise with the cover fire for that. They are also going to be trying to rally as many troops as possible for a concerted assault so they won’t be monitoring their existing containment at present.”
“Why don’t we just try and punch through that weak point we already have?” asked Vice-Corporal Ovidius.
“How would we react in this situation? We would be looking to set a trap on the other side of that hole so that whoever comes through it would run into a crossfire that would wipe them out. We work off the same tactics that the rest of the Empire uses so that all units can effectively co-ordinate. We have act in a way that isn’t covered in any of the tactics we have been trained in. If you can think of a way to counter what we are about to do that comes from standardised training, then we can’t do it. If something seems so unbelievably crazy we wouldn’t normally do it, tell me. It might just be our ticket out of here.”
The squad separated into three groups so as to pursue a pronged assault on the armoury. Each one was to advance to the armoury separately and not to assist the others. It was hoped that even if two of the attacks got bogged down the other would be able to slip past the defences, and then attack the opposing forces from the rear.
Sergeant Piso reached through a convenient window and dragged the patrolling Black guard backwards through the opening, throwing him back into the room of the building he had been hiding in; he waited for Vice-Corporal Metellus to slit the throat of the unfortunate trooper. Again no noise had been made and his section was making good progress. Sergeant Piso glanced out of the window again in time to see the second Black Guardsman reach for his comm. unit. A silenced round felled the Guardsman, who luckily fell into a pile of detritus, which masked both the sound of his fall and rendered his corpse hard to detect. Sergeant Piso ducked back into the structure to plan his next move.
Sergeant Bucco was breathing heavily as he hid in a similar pile of refuse, in another alleyway; he had only just avoided that last guard. He motioned for the remainder of the section to stay back. For good or for ill, here he would stand and he refused to let the rest of his men fall with him for one small error of judgement. If he had just looked to his left again he would have seen the guard round the corner. His training had impressed such an action upon him, but in the heat of the rebellion his training had deserted him, anger had lent his advance wings and now he could pay the price for his haste. Sergeant Bucco saw but one chance to escape his predicament.
Sergeant Bucco sprang to his feet and jumped towards a point equidistant between himself and the guard, but on the other side of the alleyway. His feet made contact with the wall and using all the strength in his legs, the tendons almost snapping with the exertion of reversing his lateral movement, he pushed back towards the wall he had just come from, all the time reducing the distance to the guard. Startled by the sudden movement the Guard’s rifle rose, but the weapon was too cumbersome to wield in an alley and track a target moving in such a haphazard way in some many plane
s. The sights always seemed to be just a hair’s breadth behind Sergeant Bucco. Reaching the Guard, while still airborne, Sergeant Bucco slammed his foot into the wall once more to reverse his course and gain height, his other leg snapped out to connect with the Guard’s head. The blow missed but the momentum from the wall carried his leg past the Guard’s neck and twisting his body in midair Sergeant Bucco rolled and brought both his legs together in a manoeuvre he had only seen in the Vid-feeds of Investigators in action. Rolling downwards a sharp crack a dead weight on his legs told him he had snapped the Guard’s neck. The gambit had worked; something he had only ever seen done on the screen had actually worked. Sergeant Bucco felt for once perhaps the endeavours of the squad weren’t doomed after all. The sniper round that took off his head barely took the edge off Sergeant Bucco’s elation as he was dead before his feet reached the ground.
Lieutenant Gratius swore as he counted heads outside the Armoury, only his section had made it. He had expected Sergeant Piso’s section to arrive late for Sergeant Piso was renowned for careful, plotted and stealthy advances, which ignored the need for celerity; he had expected to arrive in time to bail Sergeant Bucco out of a desperate fire fight for Sergeant Bucco was as headstrong as Sergeant Piso was careful.