Chapter 23: Chapter 3 Part 3
Chapter 3: On Death's ground
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Part 3
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Imperial lines
Pavonian Heartlands
For two hours, there was little to do but watch the slaughter. The Ork horde threw itself against our lines, mortars and all kinds of direct fire heavy weapons along with whole regiments of infantry did their best to turn the Xeno into green paste, rinse and repeat. A normal enemy would have broken a long time ago – there were very few known species that could sustain and find the Ork's tactics acceptable – the Tyranids came to mind, a few really nasty Xeno types that were hopefully exterminated during the Great Crusade. The only other thing that could rival this madness was a full blown Chaos invasion, complete with hordes of demons – something we might have to deal with sooner rather than later.
Unfortunately, the slaughter wasn't a one sided affair. While a relatively small portion of the mobs that impaled themselves on our lines were armed with projectile weapons, in absolute numbers there were tens of thousands of them using the other Xenos as live shields. Their accuracy was terrible too, however if you sent enough bullets downrange, you would eventually hit someone, by sheer luck if nothing else. The exchange rate was ridiculous – tens of thousands of Orks were gone with a few hundred injured Guardsmen and the last time I checked – our dead were in the lower double digit range. Yet, the green screaming maniacs kept coming. Soon, the Guard had to abandon the first line of trenches after mountains of corpses cut their firing lanes to almost nothing and Orks using their dead as cover came perilously close to reaching the first line of defence. The mortars and heavy weapons went to maximum rate of fire to cover the orderly retreat and whole regiments pulled back to the second line of trenches and bunkers. We lost a few more people shot in the open by lucky Orks before the retreat was complete and once a large number of the Xeno swarmed the abandoned position, the charges built in for precisely this purpose detonated. The whole front-line lit up in hundreds of simultaneous explosions and thousands of Orks ceased to exist in a blink of an eye.
They kept coming and dying. A smarter enemy would have been wary about us pulling off the same trap when the Guard had to abandon the second trench line – the Orks didn't care. They swarmed the abandoned positions and for a second time died by the thousands for no gain. Then a third and a fourth before their armour formations approached.
We saw it all in high definition thanks to hundreds of Servo Skulls spread all over the front providing intelligence and scanning for stealth units – either unusually cunning Orks or more likely and dangerous – Eldar raiding parties. Speaking about those particular Xenos, since dawn they had made themselves scarce – and instead of feeling relief, I waited for the next shoe to drop.
"Do we have eyes on the Warboss?" I asked while scanning the various sensor feeds. Nearby, Anteas stood with closed eyes and if you didn't know better, you might think he was asleep. Instead, he was scanning the Warp for any really unpleasant surprises – like Eldar assassins or demon incursions.
"Negative. Whatever they're burning for fuel is crating a fume cloud above their armour formation that confuses even the warships's auspexs." A young captain reported after consulting with our resident Martian, who incidentally handled the communications with the Blood Raven's Battle Barge in orbit.
"The Xeno armour is coming too close. If we have to handle them the hard way, we'll suffer unacceptable losses." I concluded. The Colonel nodded in relief – unfortunately, there were in fact certain Imperial commanders, Inquisitors too, who would be all too eager to get to grips with the enemy and damn the consequences. Those nice folks, especially if they were among the Commissar corps would be all too eager to shoot anyone disagreeing as a defeatist. "Magos, sent my compliments to the Captain along with request to remove as much of the Xeno armour as possible without demolishing our own lines." I addressed the Senior Techpriest attached to the General's staff. He was forwardly deployed today for one reason only – to facilitate communications with the warship in orbit.
The Martian answered with a stream of Binary that was hopefully a confirmation of my orders and I returned my attention to the hololith. Once upon a time, the Imperial forces of all branches worked much closely together – everyone, from the lowest of the low privates, up to Generals, Fleet Commanders and Astartes Commanders. Then the Great Heresy happened and making sure that a turned commander couldn't take with them a large contingent of the Emperors military became more important than close coordination and unified chain of command. It worked more often than not, though the downside was obvious – it was always paid in lives by the poor bastards on the ground. What I had to order right now – that was a prime example. Even General Alexander didn't have the authority to order orbital strikes, even if the warship in orbit was part of the regular navy instead of a Adeptus Astartes Battle Barge. At best he could make it a request, one that the Captain wasn't bound to take seriously. It was even worse, when tactical orbital strikes were needed by regimental or even battalion level formations.
An order from an Inquisitor on the other hand, one authenticated from the senior Martian on the ground? That was a different matter.
"Order received and confirmed. Praise the Omnissiah! Orbital bombardment imminent!" The Martian spoke in more or less clear High Gothic. It was obvious that the cogboy was gleeful even through his mechanical speech.
"Spread the word – have everyone brace for close in orbital strikes." My words were redundant. Colonel Barnabas was already busy screaming orders.
Servo Skulls went to ground, any tank that wasn't already sealed buttoned up along with any other crewed vehicle and every soldier not busy pumping shot after shot into the advancing Orks went behind the deepest, sturdiest cover they could find and closed their eyes. It wasn't a moment to soon either. A few of sensor probes were still up giving us a great view of the Ork horde. The dust, smoke, Ork spores and whatever else hung above the battlefield making aerial and orbital surveillance problematic got stabbed by blinding lances of pure energy thicker than a Leman Russ. Their very passage cleared the sky for kilometres around and when they hit, the soil vaporized at the impact, before anything on the edge of the strike turned into plasma. The resulting release of energy blinded the Servo Skulls and once the screens cleared, multiple mushroom clouds rose from the heart of the Ork horde. The ground below our feet rumbled and shook from the bombardment and finally, the shock-wave washed over the bunker carrying the roar of the explosions. Even at this range, it was almost deafening endless crescendo. For the poor bastards in the trenches, it had to be pure hell.
"Bombardment complete. The Litany of Fury is moving station to better cover the Chaos incursion." The Martian reported. He sounded like he had whatever passed for a boner for his cogboy kind.
"Colonel, I recommend you release all artillery batteries. Concentrate fire on the front leading right at the regiment in front of us. Let's make this the most heavy contested area on the battlefield." I nodded at the Librarian at my back. "We're going to meet the Warboss - if its still alive I don't believe it would be able to decline our invitation."
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The sensor feeds were bloody enough. Yet, as we approached the front, I stood on top of the Chimera we rode and I could say one thing for certain – those image didn't do it justice no matter how good the cameras were. The whole horizon was gone – replaced by angry pillars of smoke, dust and raining debris. In fact, everything about ten kilometres away from the front was one giant, if dying firestorm. The energy discharge and everything it threw in the atmosphere had another side effect too – black storm clouds formed fast above the bombarded zone.
"Enemy armour in sight – they're driving right over their own corpses!" A Vox operator reported.
"All units, pull back to the last trench line. Artillery support is available at this time. Thirty Sixth Golgotha Infantry Regiment has priority on fire missions. Be advised, Aeronautica assets will begin danger close bombing runs against Xeno armour assets…"
As we approached, concealed tanks came to life along with the Chimeras carrying their infantry support. The great majority of them were Leman Russ variants, however a Baneblade unit was available as the final reserve and an armoured fist to be deployed once we had eyes on the Warboss or the situation went to hell. Even a Blood Raven Predator platoon should be ready on the far flank.
I hoped that all of this was an overkill because the bombardment took out the Warboss.
A few minutes later, I found I wasn't that lucky.
"Priority target sighed! Coordinate...argh..."
"Heavy Xeno infantry assaulting grid L-23. A huge Ork is leading them..."
"That's our target. Colonel Barnabas, Inquisitor Veil. Priority target located – grid L-23. Release the rest of the armour reserve. We're moving to engage as well. The Emperor Protects!"
Too soon, the Chimera brought us around a small, tree covered hill that had snipers and artillery observes crawling all over it and I saw the Ork onslaught with my own eyes. As far as I could see, there were green armoured behemoths, many of them hefting crew served weapons as if they were toys. They were busy rampaging through the trenches while Guardsmen either shot them as fast as they could press the trigger or fought a losing melee battle. Dug in tanks raked the Orks with bolters and high explosive shells, heavy weapon teams shot them with auto-cannons and lance batteries until their weapons glowed from the heat, bombers screamed above us and shot at everything big and green that moved, yet the Xeno didn't stop coming.
A single blood splattered and scorched Ork towered above that carnage. I saw it grab a screaming Commissar with a claw that looked large enough to lift up tanks and it cut the man in two with in a shower of blood. Then the bloody bastard threw the Commissar's torso in the air – the poor bastard was still screaming, and closed its huge armoured jaw around it.
Fury and revulsion burned in my chest at that gruesome sight. "This thing needs to die, now!" I hissed. "Driver – ram that Ork! Anteas, give us an opening!"
I felt the Warp stir behind me and the Librarian's whole form lit up with eldritch fire. Despite the cacophony of the battle, I could hear Anteas deep soothing voice as he began to chant prayers to the Emperor. Runes and circuits built in his powerhammer glowed with golden light.
"As you say, sir!" The driver sounded less than thrilled, however apparently he decided that charging a rampaging Ork Boss was less hazardous to his health than disregarding even a suicidal order from the Inquisition – smart man.
I drew my chainsword and carefully opened my mind eye to the Warp. Prayers and chants meant to focus my power fell off my lips and sickly sweet energy raced through my veins. My sight sharpened, my heartbeat quickened to unhealthy level and the world around me began slowing down even as the power within me grew. I pointed my sword at the Warboss and purple lighting danced over its Adamantite tipped teeth. The Chimera below us roared as the driver put it into high gear and we charged the green monstrosity.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone